Hushed anticipation. He lined up the free-kick. This was it. His chance.
He pictured it in his mind. The flight the ball would take as it left his foot. The swerve and arc that would send it right into the top corner of the goal. The net billowing and straining to contain the power.
A deep breath. Settle. Then two walking paces, the a swing of his magic left foot. He felt the perfect connection as boot met ball. It flew threw the air just as he knew it would. The net billowed. He raised his arms and waited to hear the roar of the crowd.
‘Daa-aad!’ whined George. ‘You promised you wouldn’t hit it too hard. I’m only seven.’
The disgruntled boy retrieved the ball and rolled it back out.
‘Sorry, son. Got carried away.’ He pulled his t-shirt down over his expanding midriff. He had to accept those glory days were gone, but, he smiled to himself… he still had it.
Written for #FOWC, hosted by Fandango on his blog This, That and the Other. Today’s prompt word was: Roar. Click on the link to read contributions from other writers.
Iain Kelly 
9 responses to “THE ROAR OF THE CROWD”
With the picture it feels like a proper high-school match in the story and then Dad comes in and it’s all a dream. Very nicely written. Well done, Iain.
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Thanks Mason – I often live this dream, my boy is never impressed! 😉
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Thats a shame, we have to dream to find happiness.
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Ha! The old man’s still got it, huh? 😂
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At least he thinks he has, and that’s all that matters! 🙂
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Made me smile! Maybe only a legend in his own mind but it doesn’t hurt to dream. 🙂
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You got it, glad it gave you a smile 🙂
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Fun story!
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Thank you 🙂
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