A place where a lost reader finds out what happens when a chick that owns no knowledge and no interest regarding football tries to write a story, and guess about what? (and damn, haw I miss Hebrew..)
I
A brown eyed boy was bored.
This was an unusual situation; he rarely had time to be bored before, there have always been work waiting to be done, but not today.
Playing with his knife remembering with pleasure how his father just a few hours before cut with a similar one a live throat, they had the old goat for supper, wondering when his own piece of steel will have her portion of blood, his eyes suddenly laid on a piece of wood in the corner.
The wood was pleasant to touch, and it’s color warm in contrast to the knife.
The steel began its work, shaping a new form.
Thinking of the stones the old man threw to bring rain and luck, the shape became more and more round. The boy tried to roll it.
It moved in an awkward way, its elliptic shape wasn't of much help, so he started shaping it again.
It became a ball, and it rolled beautifully.
First he rolled it with his hands, and then his feet came along.
He heard his father’s steps, and in order to protect the boy’s skin from the heavy hand of education the ball went to hiding.
A few weeks later his father was away, but another browned eyed boy was visiting.
While laughing and running they suddenly saw the wooden ball.
A new game began it's existence.
II
Many centuries had passed, the sky was different and so the land, boys were bored much more often, as the year was 1848.
A blue eyed man was angry.
He loved rules, and today they were obviously absent, well actually they existed in the mind of one subject carrying the name Smith, but the blue eyed man’s opinion about Smith’s mind, or Smith in general wasn’t high.
The blue eyed man had his set of rules regarding a group of boys that is playing against another group while bringing a ball to a short but exciting life with their feet. He even thought that he shared this same set of rules with others, but apparently not with Smith.
The problem was that a written document was absent.
And as any Cambridge man knew, rules don’t exist without ink.
The blue eyed man was a Cambridge man from head to toe, and he was determined. He had only one choice.
III
More than century passed, the man had green eyes, and when others cried:”Raul” they usually called for him. He was expected to be satisfied but he wasn’t. It was his nature, some of us pass through life unable to find inner peace. He was considered to be lucky, having the chance to play games for living, one game actually.
He was a good player. He did not give the final hit, that brought the roar of the crowd, but he made it a lot easier for others. And that is why he got good money to remain the child in the grass. Not many fans knew his name, but experts knew his value.
Many wanted to take his place, some would even give a fair share of a body part for it. But Raul and his green eyes dreamed of an office, of one steady place.
He hated the bus. He hated the necessity to move constantly. The team and the trainer got on his nerves quite often. But it was the only thing he did well and it was familiar.
IV
Jack had one true love and it was round.
It had feet.
And also heads, grass, gates and a whistler.
When he was a boy he touched her, and met her personally.
Nowadays with wife and 3 kids they could meet only through a mutual friend, his favourite team.
Lizi, his wife, hated her and tried to push her aside, convince Jack that it is an illusion, a big fat nothing.
But Jack was loyal.
Not for nothing , on weekends and sometimes even in the middle of the week it united him and all other Jacks around the world, turning them and their field agents to one great victory or to one sorry looser with an injured pride.
כינוי:
בבלוג זה
בכל הבלוגים
