Blitzing up the field, I passed by threw defenders, I dribbled well and the other team could not keep up, the score was 3-2 for them, in a qualifying game for nationals.
Draws were allowed, 2 points were awarded for a draw, both of our teams needed 3 more points for a win.
The goal was in sight, the goalkeeper wore a tense, nervous expression on his face.
My team had quit, deciding it would be better to let them get to the nationals rather then push for a draw in the closing minutes.
It doesn't matter though. Even if my team is useless I will not lose, I will carry these bastards on my back to victory.
My right leg cocked back, and I fired my shot into the top right of the net.
The keeper leapt towards the ball, but his fingers were easily smashed out of the way from the force of the shot.
A whistle blew, signalling the end of the game, I looked up and saw the scoreboard.
3-3
I smiled and turned to my teammates, they and some of the enemy stared back at me.
I shrugged and walked off the pitch, intent on getting some water.
I am Artur Drakov, my father was Russian and my mother German, I was born in Germany my dream is to play for Bastard Munchen, where Noel Noah the greatest player in the world currently plays.
However the teams in my area have been nothing but trash. I devote my life to this and all of them are still just half baked.
This game I scored all three goals, the team smashed through mine 3 times of their own. I defended 3 more shots while my team made lackluster adjustments.
My coach, the other coach and the officials present to record the game were all talking to each other.
I looked over and saw them look back at me, the quickly turned and said something, before calling out.
"There has been a ruling!"
Chatter filled the crowd, "a ruling? What's that?" I stared at them in disbelief.
Surely they weren't planning to-
The official stepped out, holding a megaphone and a white flag he spoke.
First he pointed the flag towards me. "We have deemed that the goal scored by #15 Artur Drakov, was shot after the horn, this meaning the draw is no longer under effect.
He then pointed the flag towards the enemy team "this means of course, Team blue hornets has been awarded with the win and will advance to Nationals with the three points gained."
The other team looked stunned for a moment before erupting in cheers, the ran into a group hug and celebrates as if they had won the world cup.
My blood curdled, as if. They had just been gifted the opportunity, my shot has entered the net at the horn, it had been shot for atleast half a second before it went in.
These bastards have won off nothing more then the power of friendship.
I grinded my teeth together, the official spoke again.
"Please form lines and shake hands, you all played wonderfully."
I silently exited the area moments after, the other team had not rubbed it in my face at the very least.
The record of my team that season was 15-5-20, we played fourty games, I had managed to bring us 20 draws and 15 wins, in actuality it was 19 draw but I know what I just played.
I spat, disgusted by the situation, I needed to get some anger out.
A group of teenagers walked by me, they were chattering and looked at me, a smile passed the face of one of them.
He was a short boy, I stood about 6 feet 2 inches tall, and weighed about 185 pounds.
He looked up at me and spoke. "Football? What are you some kind of fa-"
I threw a punch, he was pulled back by one of his friends and it whizzed by his face.
Blood trickled from his nose, it has clipped the tip of my fist and was now broken.
My father was a former fighter, Ivan Drakov. He has insured even though I chose football, that I would be able to defend myself.
Of course this was not defense.
A larger man ran toward me, he let out a shout but his fist was obviously cocked back, the chances of it hitting me before I countered didn't exist.
I dipped below and slammed my fist into his liver, I jumped away, the man took a step back, a smile on his face.
"Weak ass puss-" he gasped and folded on the spot, the liver shot took a few seconds to work but once it did he'd be down for atleast 30 seconds.
I turned to the next, a ginger haired guy, about 5'8 who looked slightly trained, he had a good guard, and the way his feet were positioned reminded me of a boxer.
His frienda were far enough away, I landed a leg kick, chopping into his knee, he looked surprised but it wasn't enough to take him down.
I shot a takedown, an ankle pick to be exact, I rolled his foot into the air and he toppled backwards dramatically, his head hit the ground and he was momentarily stunned.
The boy with the broken nose came back for more, I slammed a hard jab into it and he fell back clutching his nose with both hands.
The ginger boy shot his own takedown now, more of a rugby tackle to be fair, I snatched his neck with a guillotine choke, also known as a front choke.
I sprawled and put all my weight into his neck, a few seconds later the blood flow to his brain ceased and he passed out.
I let go and stood up, the group all lay in various states of consciousness, I quickly fled as I didn't want to have to fight them again once they got up.
.
.
.
I sat at my dinner table, I had lived alone in Manheim Germany for the better part of this year, this was the best team I had gotten an offer for, even though it meant leaving my family home I had decided to come here.
Of course this team was still not good, I had gotten unlucky over my life, all the teams I had been apart of had been filled with hobbiests and jobbers, so even though my individual performances have been exceptional, I have never been scouted due to my team's never making it to regionals.
This had likely been my last chance, I could try again next year perhaps but the coach and I had an ongoing feud regarding sportsmanship, I doubt I would want to show my face to him.
It was fine, he was never properly invested in the game, it was always rebounding from losses and inspirational talks from him but never discipline or punishment.
I sighed and turned, this was not the first night I had sat and thought about these things over a lukewarm bowl of noodles.
I turned on my tv, I usually would study film or something but decided it would be better to lay off that for the rest of the night as I would just get angry again.
I flipped through stations, stopping suddenly at a familiar face.
The small kid who had walked at the head of the group, his nose bandaged and corrected to the center of his face.
He was speaking rapidly to a reporter.
"Yeah! The dude was super good at fighting, talk about using your skilla for evil!"
The reporter took the mic back and spoke "so you said he attacked you guys out of nowhere? Who does that?"
The boy nodded "yeah, he was wearing a football jersey, hey! If your watching just know! Your fucked!"
I put the remote down and sighed, I suppose I deserved this, but it was unfortunate that it happened the first time I did something like this.
I turned off the TV a
nd rubbed my eyes, I guess that I should turn myself in, it could wait until after a good night's rest of course though.