Autobiographical Fiction

In the beginning the official said, let the stadium lights come on, and they came on. The football players came onto the field, and they saw the light was good. Other teams started to show up and practice on the battle ground, otherwise known as the â€Å"playing field. † Fans shouted, and cheerleaders went on about their playful acts. Parents, brothers, sisters, and close friends all piled into the stands to see the game of the year. The official stepped out onto the moist grass at Manchester United Stadium in Manchester, England. The time was 7. 45pm on a Saturday night. He paused for a moment, looked at his stopwatch, and blew his whistle. Gigantic muscular men came from out of nowhere as the fans began to cheer, waving various flags, scarfs and t-shirts The players ran out to the middle of the stadium. A feel of hatred and resentment came about in the air. The crowd came unglued from their seats. The sounds of various noisemakers filled the air once again. Parents and grandparents alike came to their feet in the stands. Cars stopped on the street in front of the stadium, as they honked their horns, and cheered for their team of choice. As the two burly men stood in the middle of the field, many thoughts ran through their heads. They both knew someone was going to lose, but defeat was out of the question. The official tossed a silver coin into the air. The coin hit the wet grass with a shiny face of Queen Elizabeth clearly showing. The home team will kick off. Both anger infested players shook hands and ran back to their half. The fans began to cheer as the players took the field again. Little did the fans know of how the players practiced all week long. Burnage had a very intense practice, while Didsbury slacked off, and took an easy week, since their opponent was not that good of a team. The kick-off approached for both teams, almost instantaneously. Memories of past football games, and practices were rushing through our heads. The time clock read 8:00pm. Suddenly, a whistle blew, and the brown bundle of pigskin went flying into the air. Running to the ball, one of the Burnage players quickly got the football, stepped left, then to the right as he attempted to get past the opponents. Soon after, the player was tackled down by a pack of Didsbury players, and the referee gave the ball to one of the Burnage players. I had been waiting for this moment all of my life. The match of the year in Manchester was about to begin. Burnage have lost 14 years straight to Didsbury. Managers only daydreamed of beating the undefeated Didsbury team. As referee called for the play, I smiled with joy. The first play of the game was to me. I played at the defence, so I was going to run the ball. First play, up the middle of the field, I ran for a fifteen yard gain. The next play was to one of my fellow team mates, which he also ran for another large gain of 26 yards. I could not believe my eyes. After all these years, the game was finally here. We, as a team, were slowly tearing apart the Didsbury defence. Our offence was dominating the ball, and they could not stop our players. After 20 minutes Burnage took the lead to make the score 1-0. Straight after the lead it came as a shock to our team. We were starting to get tired, and make little mistakes that cost us to let Didsbury have a free kick. One of our defenders was not defending in the right place, and that lead to one of the didsbury player to strike the ball in an uncovered area to score a goal. We all hung our heads as Didsbury celebrated their goal, and taunted our players. As we approached to our half of the field, the manager had a few words of his own to share with our team. â€Å"Listen up here boys, it ain't over yet. If you give up now, you are going to lose. That is the sport of football. If you give up, you lose. † I was not going to let my 4 years of previous football experience go to waste, just because I was tired. We as a team knew our manager was serious, as a tiny tear drop formed in the corner of his eye. Half time came about, as we all headed to the locker room for a sip of cool water, and a long speech was made by the managers. To my surprise, our manager was very calm with us as he drew out plays with piece of white chalk on the board. The manager mainly concentrated on how to overcome the Didsbury defence. As I sat there in the locker room, I knew what I had to do. I knew that the team was depending on my skills. Visions of victory ran through my head. I visualized the opponent as a measly bowling pin, and myself as the bowling ball. My imagination started to run wild. As I felt the adrenaline running through my veins, my body started to tremble with anger. I thought to myself, â€Å"They really do think we can't win, and I have to prove them wrong. † The half time is over and the players stroll on to the battle ground with a feeling of fierce hatred. With anger and rage in my eyes, I was ready. I was a true lean, mean, defending machine. Nothing was going to get in my way. My head steamed a white smoke. The weather slowly began to get colder a cold front moved in. The sky, covered with clouds, grumbled at us as we called our plays, and ran them. Just 30 minutes were now left on the clock; both teams were overcome with fatigue. The score remained at 1-1 The weather began to get cold, and small droplets of water started to fall from the ocean like sky. I felt the nervousness of the crowd, as the clanging of the cow bells from the crowd came to a halt. Managers paced back and forth, as we headed into the last 15 minutes. Each team got two possessions on offense. Neither team had the strength to penetrate the defence. Now only 3 minutes remained on the time clock. The weather took over the game, pouring down with rain from the black sky. All the players stopped to visualize whether play will continue or not. The play wasn't called off in the huddle so the players engaged into the game again. The play consisted of me running to the right, and the left-back defender was going to toss the ball to me. As I took off to the right side of the field, I suddenly felt a burst of energy. My bones felt relaxed, and my muscles replenished. The left back defender tossed me the ball, and I ran frantically down the playing field strolling through the Didsbury defence. I couldn't believe my eyes, as I viewed the target made for me to run through. Fifteen yards down the field, I met up with one of my old friends who was Didsbury's centre back defender and my opponent. He slipped and fell in his attempt to tackle me. The perfect opportunity had come to strike the ball in to the net. So I did and scored! I smiled with joy. The crowd went wild, popcorn spilled onto the wet ground. Cow bells once again sounded as the raindrops still poured down. I will never forget that moment of my life. Shortly after, the referee blew the final whistle. Burnage went on to beat Didsbury! I could see it now on the front page of the town news paper: â€Å"Burnage demolishes Disbury for the first time in 14 years! † We finally beat the best team in the city. As we celebrated, and jumped around on the soggy grass, a tear came to my eye. It was all hitting me now. I finally achieved the goal of my life! I could not control the tremendous smirk on my face. As I watched the manager from the opposing team cry in agony, I thought to myself, â€Å"That must be what they call the agony of defeat. † I knew that the moment of my life I had long waited for, was gone. Only memories are left in my mind, and I cherish every single one of them.