There are no clouds in the sky. It makes keeping my
eye on the ball all the more harder as it soars up into the air, straight
towards the sun. I must keep my eye on the ball though, and I want to, because
I'm determined to trap it under my foot and keep it there without letting it
have a single bounce. The round object is coming down and my leg floats
upwards. I twitch degree by degree, calculating, anticipating. Both leg and
ball click and there is a faint 'thump' sound. My foot is on the ball. The ball
is still. I am balanced. My dad smiles and I grin back. Perfection.
http://imgc.artprintimages.com/images/art-print/man-kicking-soccer-ball-in-mid-air_i-G-33-3379-CKN8F00Z.jpg
Was I dreaming when it finally happened? I could
barely get twelve juggles in a row. But then, I stopped thinking. My brain
stopped functioning. All the thoughts and reminders of what I should do came to
a halt, and my body just did it. My leg clicked loosely like a cog falling in
gear. I just watched in amazement as my legs introduced me to the ability of
bouncing the ball on my knee instead of just relying on my feet. My record of
juggles in a row soared from 12 to 217. I don't think I was dreaming. My legs
hurt the next day.
Tryouts have come yet again. I’ve already been
accepted onto this team, but there are others trying their best to make it. Why
are they doing this? Didn’t they ever read Barthes? Don’t they know that they
have no chance of becoming an original if they have no source to learn from?
What are they doing running around like chickens without heads?! If I’m not
careful I’ll get my own head chopped off. Or worse. All my perfected joins will
become broken down. And just as I think it, it happens. One of the headless
chickens comes at me, bends my foot in the wrong direction and ‘pop’. It’s not
real. But I can feel it. I can feel it as I stagger. My perfection…it’s gone.
http://mrskipperdoo.blogspot.com/
