The day I scored 5 goals
It happened many years ago, on a hot summer evening, in a football field in the suburbs of Chennai. Although, cricket captures the imagination of most of India, there are few of us in those billions who thrive to match the football fanaticism more observed in other hemisphere's of earth. There were about 12 of us who shared an interest to kick the football around, and we decided to make it a daily event. The teams were decided for the season, which lasted for may be less than a month, and it was a matter of pride to be there and win the games.
I had played soccer in a much bigger environment than this, and considered myself technically superior to the rest. But, little did I foresee that the physical strength of my opponents would put rest to my skills. We were down 5 goals to nil by the end of the first hour; considering that the game used to go on until the sunset, which was more than hour away, it gave my team ample to either make a triumphant comeback or be thrashed to oblivion. A moment of provocation by a good friend, a fiery opponent at that moment, instigated me to use my head, literally, to break the shackles. A long throw in, I rushed in to the near post, and smacked a header to the top of the invisible (cause we used two stones as the goal posts) net. We celebrated as though I had scored the winner, rather it was relief that we were not going to be white-washed, and may be a hope that we might emerge out of his hole unscathed.
Realizing that the ariel route had its potency, a couple of more set pieces from corners and throw ins, resulted in a hat trick of goals for me. Then, came a couple of moments of brilliance with my foot and we were even at 5 goals each. By then game had lasted for nearly 150 minutes, nobody cared anymore if I scored 5 or one dozen, exhaustion had descended up on us with soothing stillness . Though this instance will never ever occur in my footballing career, which continues to last, the memory of it is bound to repeat itself more often. Today, when BBC wrote about Ferenc Puskas and Co. illuminating Wembley nearly sixty years ago with a 6 goal barrage, tongue in cheek, I decided to blog in my mark on history too.
I had played soccer in a much bigger environment than this, and considered myself technically superior to the rest. But, little did I foresee that the physical strength of my opponents would put rest to my skills. We were down 5 goals to nil by the end of the first hour; considering that the game used to go on until the sunset, which was more than hour away, it gave my team ample to either make a triumphant comeback or be thrashed to oblivion. A moment of provocation by a good friend, a fiery opponent at that moment, instigated me to use my head, literally, to break the shackles. A long throw in, I rushed in to the near post, and smacked a header to the top of the invisible (cause we used two stones as the goal posts) net. We celebrated as though I had scored the winner, rather it was relief that we were not going to be white-washed, and may be a hope that we might emerge out of his hole unscathed.
Realizing that the ariel route had its potency, a couple of more set pieces from corners and throw ins, resulted in a hat trick of goals for me. Then, came a couple of moments of brilliance with my foot and we were even at 5 goals each. By then game had lasted for nearly 150 minutes, nobody cared anymore if I scored 5 or one dozen, exhaustion had descended up on us with soothing stillness . Though this instance will never ever occur in my footballing career, which continues to last, the memory of it is bound to repeat itself more often. Today, when BBC wrote about Ferenc Puskas and Co. illuminating Wembley nearly sixty years ago with a 6 goal barrage, tongue in cheek, I decided to blog in my mark on history too.
posted by journeyman at 6:34 AM
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