Reflective slightly sad boy plays football in the rain.
Boulder-black clouds tumbled inland, the tops of the tallest buildings ploughing and gouging them as they passed low overhead. Every few seconds, brilliant vermillion cracks bridged the gap between the sky and the ground and thunder shook them both. The thunder didn't rumble, the lightning was so close that it was an instant deafening explosion.
I was standing in the goalmouth, ignoring the pummeling, driving rain. I squinted out at the rank of form 7 boys. One lone teacher, outnumbered, friendless, against the elements, bracing myself for attack.
With sickening speed the largest boy made a run to my left, 'how could sutch a fatty fat fat run so fast??' I barely had time for these thoughts to form in my mind when he struck the ball squarely and cleanly slightly on the bounce and sent it fizzing inches above the waterlogged concrete towards my low right.
With the instincts of a powerful jungle cat my footwork shifted, everything slowed down to a fraction of normal speed and I saw the leather cannonball scattering raindrops into a tunnel shaped wave as it span towards me. There was instant silence and I could see myself, face set in grim determination, lit starkly by a finger of lightning that had struck a tower next to the pitch.
'Noooooooooooooooooooooooo (breath) ooooooooooooooooo'
With the reflexes of the death-dealing desert Cobra I dived (dove?) righ, hurling myself into the path of the thunderbolt shot, straining every sinew to reach it, my body flying parrallel to the ground for fully 18 feet (this is Hong Kong, normal people can do that here), no thought for the fact that my momentum would surely carry me on, straight into the steel upright that formed the right hand post. HE MUST NOT SCORE!
'Nooooooooooooooooooooo'
Paul Robinson is my HERO! a Tottenham legend after 1 year.
Today I played footie with some old students in a violent thunderstorm. It was a great way to release after having to say goodbye, again, to my oldest friend as she went back to England.
I was standing in the goalmouth, ignoring the pummeling, driving rain. I squinted out at the rank of form 7 boys. One lone teacher, outnumbered, friendless, against the elements, bracing myself for attack.
With sickening speed the largest boy made a run to my left, 'how could sutch a fatty fat fat run so fast??' I barely had time for these thoughts to form in my mind when he struck the ball squarely and cleanly slightly on the bounce and sent it fizzing inches above the waterlogged concrete towards my low right.
With the instincts of a powerful jungle cat my footwork shifted, everything slowed down to a fraction of normal speed and I saw the leather cannonball scattering raindrops into a tunnel shaped wave as it span towards me. There was instant silence and I could see myself, face set in grim determination, lit starkly by a finger of lightning that had struck a tower next to the pitch.
'Noooooooooooooooooooooooo (breath) ooooooooooooooooo'
With the reflexes of the death-dealing desert Cobra I dived (dove?) righ, hurling myself into the path of the thunderbolt shot, straining every sinew to reach it, my body flying parrallel to the ground for fully 18 feet (this is Hong Kong, normal people can do that here), no thought for the fact that my momentum would surely carry me on, straight into the steel upright that formed the right hand post. HE MUST NOT SCORE!
'Nooooooooooooooooooooo'
Paul Robinson is my HERO! a Tottenham legend after 1 year.
Today I played footie with some old students in a violent thunderstorm. It was a great way to release after having to say goodbye, again, to my oldest friend as she went back to England.
posted by Mr.Thomas at 19:53
8 Comments:
So c'mon.... don't leave us in suspense!! Did you save the goal??? Or did u crash yer head into the goalpost???
Hope your visit went well superbro, don't b sad. ;-)
oh man...why couldnt me+mike played football with your kids when we were over last time! ^-^ woulda been so much fun *hehe*
HO! two lovely people. James (the gentleman) Lee and Karen (the baron)Thomas. I know James! Next time okey mate! Well kaz, the answer is. . .both the ball, me and the post all met. Everybody cheered and it was NOT a goal.
Still a bit glum. Today another downpour in HK, thunder and rain and floods.
Finger of lightning not lightening, Mr English Teacher. According to the dictionary, lightening =
light·en·ing n
the process or time during late pregnancy when the fetal head begins to descend into the mother’s pelvis resulting in a lessening of pressure on the diaphragm
I'm sure the fetal head didn't descend into the mother's pelvis next to your pitch, or that would have been interesting.
Chyaaah! Yan! Well actually,. . . . that's exactly what did happen!
The 'finger of lightening' is a metaphorical device, I felt relieved, as might a prospective mother in the circumstances you described. However, in order to avoid any confusion I've changed the spelling.
Diving on concrete?
Physically hitting the post with your own body??
Sure sounds like the next thing that would happen is a lessening of pressure on the diaphragm...
Good one!
he shoots...he scores. You funny dez!
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