FOOTBALL TOOK MY TIME

I remember when I used to play street football, I really had fun doing it because I was very skilled at it. I dribbled my mates like they were my kids. And when I handled the ball before bigger guys, I always sort to get the ball through by passing it in-between their legs or over their heads, we called it then 'overheading'. I perpetually sort for ways to display one fantastic skill or the other just like other good guys who were my mates were doing. It was indeed fun since joggling the ball was easy for me; I remember atimes I could dribble 'a big adult' only to see the guy crashing to the ground, sometimes bruising his leg on the hard-rough road we used as our field of play, all in the attempt of trying to get the ball from me. Some of them, out of annoyance, would quickly get back on their feet and rush after me to 'pack' me off the ground as a way of regaining their ego. When they fail to get at me with the 'packing', because I would often dodge it by jumping off the ground, they spend the remaining part of the match trying to vent their anger on me by giving me a rough tackle anytime the ball is passed to me. Playing football actually took much of my time, and sometimes, as a key player among my street guys, I could go so far from home with my colleagues just to ensure we win our opponents when invited. Today, it is amazing how the hot passion I had for playing football seems to be completely gone. Many times when I tell my friends now how much I played football they usually doubt my claims. Anyway, I wouldn't blame them because it has been long I last displayed my football skills on a consistent basis, especially as I don't even care to know what the UEFA league tables are saying nor what the news in FA cup is, not to talk of the NFL. Indeed, life is in phases and those phases bring with them passions for different things which present us with some parameters with which to judge our progress in life.