“How did you feel right after?”
“Did you go pick up the ball?”
“No. I stood there and enjoyed the view.”
“The view of the missed shot?”
“Had you planned missing that shot?”
“No. All of a sudden I was there, attacking. No defenders, the goalkeeper way out on the far side, with no chance of getting back to his place in time. The goal, the ball and me were on a straight line, with nothing between us. And as I brought back my leg and leaned in to score a perfect goal I heard a sound, not unlike my aunt Deborah’s, from above, slightly from the right, saying ‘So are you a cog in the wheel? Do you do what’s expected of you? Try to fit in? To please? Do you cherish the obvious? Or are you your own man? Will you ever make your own choice? And I relaxed, changed feet and gave the ball a tiny toss, just enough to make it gently roll past the right of the goal, behind the line.”
“The supporters did not appreciate your action, I suppose.”
“No, I don’t think they did.”
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