The Winning Goal

The Brocade below was written by Edward Padilla and used the words Embarrassment and Honor in connection with the photo below. You can write a Brocade too! Just open the Writing menu in the navbar above, and click Brocade: A Writer’s Exercise!

The smell of the field was infused with the memories of childhood laughter. Every step he took was a dream come true. He had made it, the biggest stage in the world. A promise he had made while still a child nearly fulfilled. The eyes of millions of people were on him, he didn’t notice. The flashing of the camera’s didn’t lessen his focus. The only sound that registered was the sounds of his breathing and the pounding of his heart. He looked around himself to find himself all alone. His foe’s were attacking his teammate who currently had the ball. He cried out for the ball, it was there before he could think. The goal was wide open, the net begging to embrace the ball. He kicked the ball with all his might. The keeper jumped to get in the way, he was too far, he never stood a chance. The ball smashed into the goal post, bouncing back. It headed for his face faster than he recalled kicking it. The pain was fleeting, the numbness took over quickly. He reached for his face, felt a warm, sticky liquid. He looked at his hands, they were full of blood. His teammates rushed to him, they embraced him. He told them he was okay, that it was nothing to worry about. They seemed to not have been worrying to begin with. He couldn’t understand why. He looked around, the crowd was elated, radiating a thunder of cheering and jeering that he slowly began to notice. He looked at the scoreboard, it was showing a team had finally won the match. He watched the monitor as it showed the replay. He saw himself kicking with all his might, the ball reflecting back in a blaze of vengeance. After the ball hit his face, breaking his nose, it went back to the waiting arms of the net. His face scored the last goal, the World Cup belonged to him.

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