you're standing in a
tunnel.
all you can hear is the noise from above you.
deafening.
forty-two thousand, five hundred people
yelling, screaming and cheering you on.
forty-two thousand, five
hundred people acting as one.
our hearts beat at the same
time.
in front of you is a little piece of heaven.
a green
pitch where
white lines mark your bounds.
one ball
eleven
men
one goal.
you're under a microscope.
every little
move you make, the audience sees
and reacts to.
when you
make your first touch,
the crowd sizzles.
ahh.
play a
one-two.
release someone into space, away from the defender.
when
that ball comes to your feet,
you hit it.
and it feels
good.
crisp.
it sails, dips and bends
like
beckham.
maybe better than -
forty-two thousand, five
hundred people hold their breath.
a gasp among the crowd.
you
hear it land in the back of the net -
swish.
an eruption of
noise.
elation.
forty two thousand, five hundred people sing your name.
this is the stuff of dreams.