12 Yards

12 Yards

A Poem by Luke Ritta
"

Euro 2012 starts today, so I decided to write a poem about the emotions of a football player.

"

12 yards

 

Everything appears to be in slow motion.

 

 

The tips of my fingers are throbbing from blood pressure that is shooting around my body, my heart feels weak, my ears are burning from intense heat and the inside of my stomach is filled with a family of butterflies.

 

 

I look at the football as it sits on the penalty spot. The goalkeepers eyes cut into my soul like razorblades. A sweat droplet slowly rolls down the bridge of my nose and then falls down and splashes on top of my boot. The referee puts the whistle to his mouth.

 

Everything appears to be in slow motion.

 

If I score this penalty it will bring joy to millions around the globe. Children in shantytowns to students in top universitys will emulate me in huge green parks and saffron coloured dusty roads. I will become as famous as the worlds greatest footballer, Lionel Messi, this will be my highpoint of my existence.

 

 A tiny moth hovers in front of one of the huge stadium lights. The referee finally blows his whistle…his cheeks expand like a bullfrog.

 

Everything appears to be in slow motion.

 

I run towards the ball, my calf muscles are burning like hot coals, my ears pop, a sweat droplet runs down my spine. There is a static silence around the stadium, in crowded bars, cafés, pubs and front rooms.

 

 

I strike the ball with the inside of my right foot!


  ©LukeRitta


© 2012 Luke Ritta


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Featured Review

You see them play but you never what it's like until you've been there, and think this write is the next best thing to being there. Of course the sports announcer makes no mention of the sweat dropping from the brow, nor is there noticed a moth obstructing some tiny fraction of the lighting system, but it's the tiniest things that make all the difference -- the difference between playing and winning? Sure, but it's also the difference between nothingness and everything. I never thought about that until just now. Thanks, nice write.

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

You see them play but you never what it's like until you've been there, and think this write is the next best thing to being there. Of course the sports announcer makes no mention of the sweat dropping from the brow, nor is there noticed a moth obstructing some tiny fraction of the lighting system, but it's the tiniest things that make all the difference -- the difference between playing and winning? Sure, but it's also the difference between nothingness and everything. I never thought about that until just now. Thanks, nice write.

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Great and really visceral description of A footballer; it really provides a believable idea of what it might be inside some sportsman's head. I'm not a fan of soccer personally, but I enjoyed reading this all the same--there's a lot of good imagery in here, including my favorite line which had to be this:

"Children in shantytowns to students in top universitys will emulate me in huge green parks and saffron coloured dusty roads. "

It's cool. Anddd besides that, I think you die red it the most effective way possible, right when the player connects with the ball and stopping immediately after. Nicely some, you should write one for tennis since Wimbledon is nigh :p

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

if; in your writing, you can drive champions to crave, victory.. even though all is lost.. You are A Brilliant Writer. The writer that can bridge gaps, regardless of topic or relevance to the reader.. The only reason i am responding to this write, is due to the fact, that in my mind, you were a football player, that bridged the gap to drug addict, (not saying you are one) im simply saying.. You Write Beyond Measure.. Most Do Not. (: well done -s

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

we are all champions of different games, mine just happens to be winning at Xanax. or adderall, or klonopin, or heroin, or methamphetamine, or god you name it.. the point is.. we are all big in our own minds at one point or another, how we get there.. doesnt define us.. how we get there, defines who we are, and who we will become.. and by what you have written, i can see, you are a great writer...much love -s

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

i really need a blue football right about now.. well done

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

A compelling poem with an anti-climax which made me smile, was that meant to be, I wonder....a great read. Thanks

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I always wondered what it was like out there on the field and you just gave me a taste of it with great imagery. This is a really wonderful piece. Only one complaint, in the second line you put 'form' instead of 'from'.

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Bam! Had me totally hooked on, couldn't stop reading for a second. Your descriptions are just outta this world, the first stanza is a bit like my style of writing with rushed sentences, I loved the language, the imagery, everything including the small details and the bullfrog referee. Certainly conveys that tense feeling, I loved reading.

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Awesome! Very creative, unique and very well composed!

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Highly image based, a well written piece, well done, good read.

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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17 Reviews
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Added on June 6, 2012
Last Updated on July 6, 2012
Tags: football, euro, emotion, pressure, pain, sweat, feelings, lukeritta

Author

Luke Ritta
Luke Ritta

London, United Kingdom



About
Hi, I am 26 and from London. I love writing short stories, poems and novels. My writing is a bit like Jack Kerouac and Ernest Hemingway. I love reading classic Literature, from Tolstoy to Proust, I .. more..

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