The Beautiful Game

There is magic in the game

And you either see it

Or you don’t,

Feel it

Or you don’t.

There is beauty

In the swiftness,

The precision,

In the pass,

The feint,

The liquid motion,

The sound as boot meets ball,

The surge of the team –

Each one part of the whole

And the ball an extension

Of them all.

There is joyful recognition

Of each movement –

Of a run,

A walk,

A turn,

A look –

And it is reassuring

In its familiarity;

You’ve been here before,

You know these boys

Know exactly how each one

Will play.

This is real,

This is now,

You feel it in your heart

And as it goes, goes, goes

As they move,

In those moments when

Everyone’s heart is in it,

When you are all locked as one

In the same thought,

The same struggle,

The same aim,

Eyes on the same white sphere,

In those moments

When it all clicks,

That is when it is the most beautiful,

That beautiful game.




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