Cage of War

The Stockton JJ Minor Memorial Soccer Tournament of 2010 is held in a stadium like an iron giant at the heart of the city, with the heart of the game at the heart of the metal beast itself. Cars cower beneath its grand presence in the lot below. Lamp posts in the lot shine brightly, lighting the path most taken. Friends and foes shove their way inward toward the tunnels. The tunnels reach from the stadium like iron vipers, welcoming the fans into their metallic mouths. The stadium stands like an ancient Roman Arena, its gladiators waiting within, preparing for battle. The rain drops sprinkle outside its walls, but beat like a marching drum within the stadium.

Fans assume their positions behind their appropriate benches, prepared for the upcoming fray below. Flags are waved with pride, baring their true colors. The ocean of blue and the ocean of red separate amongst the sea of fans. Every other shirt mirrors a similar one on the field below. The scoreboard looms behind one of the goals, daring to decide which team will be the victor. Feet clang as they walk upon the metal flooring. Horns sound like a battle cry as the players step out onto the pitch. The dark sky still rains down.

The green astro-turf flattens when upset by the occasional cleat. The wind rushes through the mouth of the vipers, entering the arena with a fierce lash at the players. The goals stand menacingly at either end of the pitch facing each other, as if playing chicken to see which will bow down first. The coaches, already shouting instructions to their players, reside only a few yards away from one another, as if the other was only a figment of his imagination. The scent of the falling rain clears the mind of all, focusing on the goal that the players are there to obtain.

A whistle blows and the game begins. The players scatter and swarm like soldiers in the trenches with a cooked grenade. A boot drives the ball with a solid thud. Teammates mutter little words like prayers, doing what they can to reach their goal. There is a flick of the ball, occasionally followed by the crunch of studs to shin-guards. The uprights shudder and clank each time a keeper sighs in relief that the ball ricochets away. The players feel the full force of the posts when corners result in collisions. Sweat drips through the lips of the combatants with a taste of salt, otherwise impossible to differentiate with the rain. Rain still patters down onto the battlefield, sloshing beneath the studs of the cleats. The grass acts as a freshener amongst the heat of the battle. The cool air burns in the players’ strained throats. The cheering fans still try to lift the morale of their team, but the benches continue to watch in utter suspense.

Just outside the mouth of the taunting goal, there is a brawl. Each red and blue shirt confront like water and fire, a never ending battle. The fans roar across the distance at the opposing side, as if neither and both were at fault. After the crowd below disperses, one red player walks to his bench, having been dismissed by the bright yellow official. The red bench fumes at the card their teammate received, one that is a similar color to his jersey. The players in red link arms before their goal, standing like a wall of flames. One blue player stands ten yards away like a one-man army. All eyes are on the kick-taker as he lines up for the shot, the suspenseful silence screaming at the spectators. The benches wait to be sat upon again as their residents stand in suspense. The stadium holds its breath. All that is heard is the rain against metal, clanging like gun shots through the silent night. The whistle blows, and the blue man strikes.

The fire jumps to head the ball, but cannot. The keeper reaches to tip it wide, but cannot. The upright leans to redirect the shot, but cannot. The ball tries to find its target, and does. The stadium erupts as every fan screams, either in joy or in protest, as the ball sails into the back of the net. The war is over, and the victors sing their song, echoing in the empty air to the beat of the rain.

~Deegan