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
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