I know Charlton has forgiven me.
Dammit...Charlton may not even remember this.
But I remember.
It was one of those things...one of those days. To make the long story short, we had four Houses in school that competed against each other. And it was football time. I was good in intel sort of boring events(speech, recitation, and etc.) , but nothing much physical, except football. And even in that, nothing too profound except being a goal keeper. Our House (Nehru) was the worst team. And I was Goal keeper #2.
And Charlton was #1. Boy!
And then there was this match. The whole school was watching. I watched from behind the goal post as Charlton was protecting the net well. And in the process, quashing my dreams of becoming India's answer to Lev Yashin.
I was a kid. I prayed for a chance. Like an answer to my prayers, my team mate did fall. And up he walked to me with a hand that was twisted. He had dislocated his left fist. I just looked at him without offering much support. I consoled him for a second and went in to that match. It was my chance, my only chance to play for my team. I rue that day.
Today I may do the same thing, thinking I'm a professional.
But every single time we will find our reasons to play.
i am a kid.