The Boy Who Used to Run

There is always this lovely and special sound a football always makes when playing it on the field and most especially when it cleanly hits the back of a goalpost net. That sound, I have not heard it in years, but I still feel it because my body still remembers every detail about it.

The last time I was completely, genuinely alone was in. The physical way was back in my second school day because I was the sport prefect. Training after classes, every Friday match against other nearby schools by invitation, interclass matches, that particular exhaustion that comes after, and my legs start aching and my lungs argue about it after running and kicking balls. That time, I was not thinking much about the future or money. It was just school and football; next move.

And then, I graduated from secondary school, and life began to make different demands. And all my schedules were very uptight with things that were very urgent. One day of not playing football turned into a week, a week turned into a month, and a month turned into years. Nobody took football from me; it is still in my body because I can feel it as I write this post. I just kept on choosing other things over it, and now it has turned into something I used to love doing.

What I am missing is not the game itself. But that person is way inside it. I can use both legs, so I play 7 and 11. And at times I play a free role. There was this version of me that used to be actively present on the field back then, not thinking about anything else. Just there.

Do I think I will return to football? At this moment, I can't give an answer because it's been so long. I'm not sure if I can lift my body like I usually did back then, and my schedule and environment have not learned to create a time on their own. But I still find time to watch live matches or highlights. Because, to me, it is still more like recognition that gives me a sense of belonging.

Thank you for reading.

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