It was the eleventh of july, 23:55. I was awake and waiting. So was more than half the human race. There was soccer and excitement in the air, all around –in every living room of the li’l colony I live in, and on my wall on facebook as well. Every third second on fb, saw a new status update, some cheering on the orange Dutchmen and the others siding the Spanish 11, everyone on tenterhooks to see if Paul’s prophecies were right.
A soccer game, usually the last thing on my list, was right there on top, this day. The mood everywhere was electrifying. In spite of my drowsiness, I was going to stay up all night to watch it all. There was no way I was going to miss this must-see.
I stayed glued to the tv screen, till some point when I think I dozed off, only to wake up to see the 85th minute with no score yet. The game went on that way for quite a while. There were so many missed opportunities by the Spanish, a few that made me jump, just to fall back on the couch a second later, in dejection. Most of the extra thirty minutes went on this way, with neither team scoring. 13 yellow cards were issued, with De Jong kicking Alonso so hard on the chest, for a second seemed like I was watching wrestling, rather than soccer. So went the game, a combo of yellow cards and missed chances.
And then came that moment, out of the blue, when Iniesta maneuvering the ‘Jo’bulani (yeah! I do skim through the news paper) impeccably, kicked it flawlessly into the nets, leaving Maarten Stekelenburg dismayed and upset. Up went the Spanish faction, cheering passionately. It was wild. It was crazy. Casillas’ men ran around in ecstasy, unable to contain the glee. I watched Casillas cry in overwhelming happiness. I was inspired, instantly.
The match continued. The match ended. However, the Dutch couldn’t recuperate. They were beaten, outclassed. Spain was the better team that day. They had won it, the World cup, after 2 lost finals. They had made it finally, under the brilliance of Casillas’ captaincy. They were elated. Words can never ever illustrate the level of magnitude of the happiness. The elation was high. It was emotional. Victory seemed so beautiful. Urged me to want the feeling, incited me to desire to win.
I went to bed that night, inspired.
Advertisements