The Joy of Becks

AN: Discovered this in an old folder, something I wrote in June. Was bored, decided to inflict it on humanity.

By: ms_dynamite@hellokitty.com

The Joy of Becks

I have never been so terrified. By heart rate has increased tenfold, my hands are shaking, I can't stop biting my nails and he hasn't even put the damn ball on the spot yet.

I tear my gaze away from the tv and notice all the guys looking just as nervous as me, except for Rachel who is leant against the doorframe looking rather bored.

"Why've you all gone quiet?"

"PENALTY!" comes the unanimous, shouted response.

"No need to shout…"

We all wave our arms violently in her rough direction, making vague, yet threatening hand gestures, desperate for her to shut it.

This is no ordinary penalty.

The World Cup, England vs Mortal Football Enemies aka Argentina. It's nil - nil and we have a score to settle.

Beckham has a score to settle. To bury all those demons raised by that fateful encounter in '98. That match nearly destroyed Beckham, death threats, burning effigies … now he is stood, four years later. Captain of the England Football team, with a penalty placed in his lap.

Score, and he is a national hero … miss .. and he's as good as dead.

The camera zooms in on his face, gorgeous even when tense. We all shuffle to the edge of our seats, very nearly falling to the floor. Becks takes a few deep breaths, as the entire English world holds theirs.

"Get it in the net you bugger." Comes the voice of someone in the room, cannot register who.

Looking up briefly before his gaze falls to the little leather football, he runs up and …

… we all gasp.

Time seems to slow as the ball takes off, camera flashes go off all around the place, the black and white leather bound blur swirls towards the Argentine keeper as he leaps for it, the ball veers and collides …

… with the back of the net.

A huge roar erupts around the stadium, and throughout the living room.

G-O-A-L

The four letter word illuminates the score board as the hero tears off towards the corner flag, pulling at his red shirt, he comes to a halt and kisses the badge emblazoned on his heart, screaming with joy, within moments, he is gone, smothered by over excited team mates as they all yell as loud as they can.

"Beckham you are bloody brilliant!"

That simple chorus must be being yelled throughout homes, pubs, hostels and public squares throughout the country at this moment. Me and four way too happy guys leap up from the sofa and bounce about yelling various things and wrapping each other in bear hugs. Little snippets of Rule Britannia, God Save The Queen and Land of Hope and Glory can be heard from various directions.

From the house next door we hear the tiny chorus of 'ONE - NIL! ONE - NIL!' growing in steady volume.

One of the lads goes bounding past Rachel into the kitchen, to inform the rest of the girls if they hadn't already guessed. "England One, Argentina Nil! Argentina Nil, England One! We're Winning, They're Not!"

In the background I can here Rachel snickering as she watches us. "You're all mad, you know that?"

No .. we're not mad. We're just revelling in the joy of Becks.

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isn't football fabulous .. apart from the fit young men running about for 90-odd minutes getting sweaty and muddy … it is a brilliant game .. that will no doubt kill me one day *sigh* and I'm a girl .. you should see how guy's act …

REVIEW people … if anyone else knows the joy of Becks .. I live for feedback … it keeps me alive, and you wouldn't want me wasting away now would you?