The Greatest Game I Ever Witnessed: A True Soccer Story

There once was boy who wanted to play soccer.  Actually, it was because his sisters played the year before and they got new soccer balls.  He was a bit jealous.  Nevertheless, with little soccer experience he played on a team with other 9 and 10 year old boys.  He was the biggest boy on the team and possibly the most athletic.  Other boys may have had more soccer skill, but none could match the passion he brought to the game.  

The coach had him playing defense.  If you are unsure of which boy I mean, you just need to watch a game he played.  In defending his goal, he was always around the ball.  That’s where he could be found. He was sometimes criticized by his co-defender for not staying on his own side of the field.  Even the coach would need to remind him of where his position was.  

Still, when the playoffs came, his play kept other teams from scoring.  The boy’s uncle and his family came to see him play.  The boy played amazingly.  He seemed to be everywhere at once.  Besides defense, the coach used him for throw ins, corner kicks, and occasionally, goal kicks.  

The uncle, being a soccer coach, asked why he wasn’t playing offense with his leg strength and obvious aggressiveness on the field.  Another parent quickly agreed with the benefit of the boy playing offense.  However, he noted that if it weren’t for the boy’s defensive play, they would not have reached this deep into the playoffs.  

The day of the finals, there was a noon time hard fought contest that the boy’s team won.  They were to play the winner of the other game being played at an adjacent field.  This game went into double overtime.  Due to the lateness of this second game, the final match was postponed an hour for the boys to rest up.  

The first half of the championship competition was in favor of the other team.  The boy played valiantly with save after save.  However, there was a freak play when the ball deflected off his block and into his own goal to make the score 1-0.  The boy’s face reflected horror and embarrassment.  Still, there was no one on the team or any of the parents that felt any malice toward him.  They knew that if it weren’t for him the score could be 4-0.  My heart dropped but I silently urged him to forget it and keep giving his all.  The score at half-time remained at 1-0.  

The boy’s team was able to swing the pendulum in the second half.  They were always on the attack.  The offense had close shot after close shot.  The boy made block after block, steal after steal.  Nearing exhaustion, both team sparred with the determination of heavy weight boxers.  

Then came the play where the boy lost his balance a short distance from the goal.  Since he was defending the goal, the ball was right in front of him.  Unwittingly, he put his hand on the ball as he got up.  Penalty---hand ball.  The other team gets a free kick so close to the goal.  The team rallied and held their ground.  The score remained 1-0 with time slipping away.  

A mere minute later, the other team kicked the ball up and, instinctively, the boy put his hands up to protect his face.  Another hand ball.  

The boy’s face showed the tears welling up as our eyes met.  He was trying to hide his feelings, but I instantly felt every emotion rushing through his body.  I prayed to God to let me bear it for him.  He didn’t deserve this.  Not after the fervor, the effort he displayed.  It wasn’t right for someone so young to have so much talent, to play with such passion and suffer these injustices.  The boy composed himself and continued to amaze me with his abilities.  

The battle raged on as the seconds ticked down.  The fans were at a fever pitch you would be hard pressed to find at any professional title game.  Each spectator was willing their own strength, their own souls into these kids.  Both teams demonstrated supreme ability, resilience, and determination.  However, the boy’s team had the upper hand and you could see fear creeping into the eyes of the opponents.  

Everyone knew it was just a matter of time before the score would be tied.  But time was ticking away.  

Then it happened.  The whistle blew and the game was over.  He lost 1-0.  Then he collapsed to the ground in disbelief and exhaustion.  His face registered sadness, disappointment.  His chance to atone for his mistakes was gone.  Now he had to live with this game.  Our eyes met again as his tears began to fall.  My heart was broken.  Oh God, what can I say to this young man that has inspired me so?  

Parents from both teams went to tell him what a good game he played.  Trying to hide his tears, he politely thanked them.  In his drained, dehydrated state he began to feel physically sick.  After he was given plenty of fluids and a chance to rest up, the championship trophies were presented.  He received the biggest applause when his name was called.  

He has a bright future that I hope he sees.  He is one of those kids I was always jealous of growing up.  He is one of the ones that seem to have everything and can do anything.  I hope he realizes the talent he has and continues to grow it.  

To this day, I am moved when I think of this young man and the heart that he played with.  Oh, that I will live my life with such fervor.