‘When the seagulls follow the trawler, it’s because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea.’
Ah, Eric Cantona. Those were the days of proper football: cult heroes; muddy pitches; crumbling stadiums and playing for the love of the game. Then the money men came and ripped the soul out of the sport he loved.
The sport of the working-class man, escaping life’s woes for a couple of hours on a Saturday afternoon, was now the ultimate corporate millionaire’s playground.
He’d been in the stand when Cantona had kung-fu kicked the supporter. Nine months he was banned for and still the fans loved him. A genius, an eccentric, an artist.
‘Dad, stop staring at the seagulls.’ He woke from his reverie.
He turned and smiled. ‘Go on then, your turn to try and score a goal.’
In the distance the huge gleaming stadium dominated the city skyline while the father and son, using goalposts for jumpers, played football in the park until it was time to go home for dinner.
Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story or poem in around 150 – 175 words, based on the weekly photo prompt. Thanks as always to the challenge host Priceless Joy. For more information visit HERE.
To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
For those not familiar, read more about the legend that is Eric Cantona. And yes, for those in the US, I’m writing about proper football, or as you call it, soccer.
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