THE GOALS OF LIFE

Francis and I grew up in a carefree childhood in the peaceful countryside in Flingham. It was the halcyon
days when we went to school together by a rusty old bike on the bumpy, muddy road riddled with
potholes and ruts that made us fall off our bike multiple time. We, however, took it for granted as the
road is the by-word for the typically bucolic scene of my countryside. Francis was my constant and kind
companion whom I can consider as a family member as Francis always followed my step, helped me out
at my worst and willing to lend me a help hand at any times. He has a powerful, muscular physique and
husky voice with a weather-beaten face. Francis was born in a poor family, he started working various
part-time jobs in hopes to support his family. He even worked as a docker in 2 big supermarkets and
taught children to earn for a living. Difficult as his menial work was, he remained positive and optimistic,
which also imbued me with a hopeful spirit as both of us all had greatest dream to become professional
soccer players and could dedicate ourselves to play for the Southern national team. We were die-hard
soccer fanatics and would like to spend whole days getting updated and running through the greatest
knockout tournaments in world soccer, assessing each tournament on its global reputation and sporting
challenge. Soccer was our lifelong passions to such extent that we rounded up my friends, including
Gabriel, Alex, Holding, to play against different groups almost every weekend. Each of us was pale in
comparison with Francis’s talented footwork whose trademark powerful shots and incisive passing skills
was absolutely jaw-dropping. I was green with envy at times, but his soccer prodigy was nothing short of
magnificent and stunning. The whole village dubbed him as Messi of Flingham, whose nickname was
totally fit for his aptitude. All of us awaited day in day out with ultimate goals – wannabe soccer players
in the making. Until one day, a group of soccer scouts from the Gunner FC in association with my
secondary school to hold a soccer match named “Fountain Futsal Youth League” in a bid to call up some
bright starlets for the city-level junior club, which could be life-changing opportunity for those who want
to be a professional soccer player. There was a flame of passion for life, the chance had come, the
league is our main preoccupations to the point we couldn’t stop thinking about. A newly established
team called Nuclear FC showcased, for all intents and purposes, our determination and desire. One day
before the draw, we walked down the road, whistled cheerfully, shot the breeze and set one sights
ahead of the team we would encounter in the following days. The whole team was back home with
delirious mood, looked forward to the draw. The draw finally came, it looked as if the road where
Francis and I waded through on a daily basis turned out to be flatter and smoother in our mind. The
hope and dream dispelled our physical fatigue as time just flew on the way we reached the draw venue
off our school. A depressing overcast winter morning adorned with the gentle rush of wind, the
twittering of birds and the rustling of leaves make us hyped up amid the quiet background when we
attentively watched the draw mechanism in tandem, we looked to the gameplay if the opponent could
pose certain threats against us. Just a few moments, it was the White Rooster FC, who are drawn to play
against us. A game of life ahead and bright future was in the air. The draw drawn our imagination quite a
bit, we were exhilarated, we thought a successful prospect.

“We'll win for sure, I knew how their wingers run the play," said Alex.

“Let me curl into their penalty box and they'll be carved open, LOL", Francis beamed.
"Then I will be a striker, I'll try to pass the ball to you", I quickly replied.

“Holding and Gabriel have muscular physique, both of them would be a superdefenders, and with my
long arms, I would be a remarkable goalkeeper”, Alex gloat.

Our match was scheduled to take place first in Saturday, one week after the draw. The whole team
really cherished that rare occasion, we plunged into the training with high spirit day in day out in a bid to
emerge victorious.

“We must make it a win”, Francis declared to the team.

Time and tide wait for no men, as the saying goes. The day to shine finally come. Francis, and my
teammates step in the turf with pride and confidence. As it happens, we throw ourselves and chase
down a victory in the first half, the newly-established White Rooster appeared to be a troublesome
hurdle, yet they was no match with our powerful force as their attacking and defending spree was easily
spotted by the solid Holding and Gabriel, while our side was bound to put on a ferocious display against
the opponent.

“Man on, Fred (White Rooster defender) was lunging at you, Phat “, Holding shouted.

It was halfway through the first time, Fred was all set for a sliding tackle, not to be outdone, I dribbled
past and jumped over him, it was a defining moment as I fed a useful throughball toward the run of
Francis, who was agile enough to twist and turn around Martin (a White Rooster defender), to fire a
close-range shot past the White Rooster goalkeeper Oliver into back of the net to make it 1-0. He
gleefully raced towards us to celebrate the goal.

“Oh my man”, Holding roared.

“It is unbelievable, I am proud of you, Francis”.

The team huddled up after the goal, and got ready for the remaining course of the match.

“We can’t be complacent, just stay focused”, said Francis”.

Francis and I had a handshake as usual whenever he scored a goal, but it was a special occasion, a real
turning point if we can claim a victory in this match and the final one, it would be a a new chapter for
the whole team. Holding onto the lead, that was the order. After the goal, we continued to control the
game, built up momentum until the referee blew the whistle to end the first half. We took a break with
great comfort and optimism, especially Francis and I, who envisioned the bright future of becoming
professional footballers. the second half got underway with a huge advantage for us, coupled with the
team’s unceasing fighting spirit. However, White Rooster appeared to bounce back after their first half
ordeal, in the first couple of minutes of the second half, the ball was somehow constantly whipped into
our penalty area and perilously dropped on Alexis and Mesut ( the White Rooster strikers ), who were
on hand to cause trouble for us. It was Alex, our talented goalkeeper, beat away their striking threats.
We didn’t figure out what would be in store for us. It seemed our side underestimate their strength,
which could result in the defeat. The manner we approached the second half was far different from the
first half, how erratic it was.

“Come on, what's the matter with you”, our captain screamed.

“Attention please”, Alex added.

We somehow didn’t concede a goal although the other side kept on piling up pressure. All of a sudden,
Holding dispossessed Alexis and laid the ball out to me, who made ground to feed Francis, who took off
on a straight line across the edge of the penalty area, dodging the attention of Martin to crash a shot
across Oliver and in off the post and doubled the lead, that really was an icing on the cake. It felt like a
real climatic moment for the mood around the team. The team resurged the routine domination over
The White Rooster, a sense of winning really permeated the whole team, inspired by Francis’s attacking
outlet. He was a heroic leader making a beeline towards every nook and cranny of backline of the
opponent, pushing for a hat-trick while the other side was dumbfounded and baffled to regain their
form. It was inescapable, after all. The delusions of grandeur can now finally be laid to rest as the White
Rooster was just inferior to us when we head and shoulders above every innocent players, As a result,
the pattern for the third goal was just a matter of time, a simple ball in behind from Holding, he gave the
pass to me , then I was toying with the creaking Martin before crossing for Francis to score with a
looping header. This much was evident late in the second half, the White Rooster FC came with no
greater aim than to limit the damage caused by our strength, which caught them off guard indefinitely.
Game over, hattrick for the glorious Francis, he had a big grin on his face and took off the shirt to
celebrate the goal, so did Holding, Gabriel, Alex and me, that was an electric atmosphere as the final
whistle was drawing near and Nuclear FC notched a 3-0 win over the tough White Rooster FC after all.

Our dauntless performance left the impression on the group of soccer scout. The victory made our
dream came true. After one month, Francis, Gabriel, Holding, Alex and I were drafted into the Gunner FC
provisional squad. The day slowly passed; we look back on the goal-scoring moments as life goes on like
the watershed cascaded down the flow of life, in which hard work and passion can pay off. A milestone
that will etch on our memories because the goals fulfill our dream, the goals of commitment, and on top
of that, it is the goals of life.