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Brit Brinson [Dia of the Dead Dia of the Dead (epub)
Cody Goodfellow [Radiant Dawn Radiant Dawn (epub)
Cate Tiernan [Immortal Belove Immortal Beloved (epub)
Carl Ashmore [Time Hunters 01 The Time Hunters (epub)
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ATatePackVacation121023 1226 id

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.One Saturday morning, and I can’t now remember the name of our opponents, the ‘C’ team were in action again.At half time we had been losing six-nil and the only question was whether our opponents would get to double figures or not.It was a typical ‘C’ team game, a mismatch; the other side were much bigger and much more surefooted than us.For most of the second half we chased the ball like a starving pack of dirty mongrels after a rat.If, by chance, one of us did get the ball, the rest would be yelling: ‘pass, pass, give it to me! Pass it!’ All of us, in our daydreams, were stars.To be fair, we were all so starved of the rush that comes with being in possession of the ball that our desire to get the briefest touch of it was understandable.***A drizzly grey Saturday morning.The game is being played entirely in our half of the field.No sooner do we kick the ball away than it comes straight back at us.That is, until the moment when Rory hoofs a mighty clearance high in the air, up towards the left wing.There are three people with any chance of getting near the ball as it lands: Deano, who has been living in his own world somewhere in the middle of the field, their defender, and me.I’m left-footed and having been assigned the position of left back had loyally stuck to it, even when I was entirely on my own in that particular muddy patch of the field.All three of us chase hard and Deano wins.This isn’t too surprising, because he is actually quite athletic and does orienteering for Leinster.What is astonishing, however, is what happens next.The ball is descending fast towards him.Since I’m pretty close, he probably should try to head it, or even better, chest it towards me.But everyone on our side knows what would be the result of that.Deano may be fast but he’s got no co-ordination.The ball is going to bounce off him and fly away in an almost random direction.As the ball lands, Deano swivels, sticking out his leg with his foot held up, making an L-shaped cup to catch it in.The momentum of the ball is deadened.Perfectly.It rolls to the side, right in front of me, about two yards away.There is an audible gasp of awe from some of our players, although perhaps that is just in my head.I nearly stop running in surprise.Deano sprints off ahead of me, down the left wing.I look up to see the defender hesitate.Should he cover Deano or come for me and the ball? The problem is, none of his teammates are close; they’ve all been caught out, pushing up, looking for their own moment of glory, a goal.With a look of resolution, the defender bursts into action and charges towards me.I boot the ball past him and it’s not a bad pass in that at least it doesn’t hit the defender or go out of play.Then I tear off towards their goal, while the defender turns to chase the ball and Deano.This is fantastic.We are in the opponent’s half, with a real chance of scoring.All their team are streaming back; our own players are standing still, watching, wondering.Is it possible? Can it be that we have played so sweetly for once that it is us bearing down on their goal?My legs are driving me on, my breath is ragged.I’ve got to get to the goalmouth.Deano laughs aloud with excitement as he kicks the ball onward and chases it.Their defender can’t keep up with him.So it’s up to their goalkeeper, who starts to come forward.He must have spent the entire game until now trying to keep warm on his own.He is tentative, crouched.Deano kicks the ball again, to the side of the goalkeeper, away from the goal.He’s trying to take it around the keeper, but I wince, it’s too close.They both chase the ball towards the left-hand corner flag and Deano gets there first.He hoofs it across towards me with a cry ‘Liam!’, and then he falls on his back from the twisted shape he had to make to get the ball over to me.This is the moment: a muddy spinning ball, coming fast, almost, but not quite, going into the goal.It takes one bounce, then another and it’s here.I’m here.I’m in front of an open goal, a yard away.No opponents are anywhere near.The goal beckons.I’ve seen it so often on television: the triumphant moment when the net stretches, receiving the ball [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]