yes, i will raise my chalice for this man
while it has been many moons since my hey days as a player in football (soccer [football {soccer}]) , the nugget of passion in me has never left.
hackey sack, ridiculously cramped dorm hallway pick up games, kicking garbage on the street: they all help, but none of it really can substitute for the real deal, being out there in the field and fighting for something bigger than all of us. as a result i frequent youtube, for documented stories of glory and passion. what i'm about to share with you however, takes the cake.
i played wingmen for the while and then was a fullback, but for a small time in the in between, i was a goalie.
doesn't matter if you've been in the box for 10 minutes, or 10 years, but when you're a goalie, there's a thought that at least passes through your head once: you want to be that badass that charges out of the box and fucking SAVES the day with the game saving goal. as in scoring the goal.
surely, a fantasy, and nothing more. the logical result of a man sequestered and sentenced to be a protector, ball and chained to his small kingdom delineated by nothing more then roughly cut grass and fading paint.
but the world turns, winds change, mountains crumble and rise, and every eon or so, one who is different arises, and shatters our idea of what is and what can be.
without further ado:
hackey sack, ridiculously cramped dorm hallway pick up games, kicking garbage on the street: they all help, but none of it really can substitute for the real deal, being out there in the field and fighting for something bigger than all of us. as a result i frequent youtube, for documented stories of glory and passion. what i'm about to share with you however, takes the cake.
i played wingmen for the while and then was a fullback, but for a small time in the in between, i was a goalie.
doesn't matter if you've been in the box for 10 minutes, or 10 years, but when you're a goalie, there's a thought that at least passes through your head once: you want to be that badass that charges out of the box and fucking SAVES the day with the game saving goal. as in scoring the goal.
surely, a fantasy, and nothing more. the logical result of a man sequestered and sentenced to be a protector, ball and chained to his small kingdom delineated by nothing more then roughly cut grass and fading paint.
but the world turns, winds change, mountains crumble and rise, and every eon or so, one who is different arises, and shatters our idea of what is and what can be.
without further ado: