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SatelliteAir publication Number (SPN): 2021011901
Published by: SatelliteAir publishers
sms: +234-9014845819
CHAPTER ONE
Mike leapt and got the long range volley with his chest before hitting it hard past the tall lean goalie, into the top right corner of the goal. GOALLL...
The goal got the supporting spectators on their foot, cheering and clapping.
Mike ran forward and stood before the cheering crowd, his hands raised above his head and fists clenched. It is a moment of joy. His teammates crowded around him in celebration but all of a sudden, he stopped cold and his hands dropped slower than they had risen.
'father'. He couldn't believe his eyes. The person he least expected to see amongst the crowd was his father.
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"Will you shut that stinking mouth of yours?. What do you want me to tell my friends and associates?. That my son is not interested in law or engineering, nor any of the highly rated professions. Rather he is interested in being a soccer player".
Eng. James barked at the fourteen years old boy standing head bowed before him.
"You better re-service your mind or else...".
He added as he breezed out of the house.
The boy moved towards a wooden stool standing beside the sofa and kicked it hard and watch it fly across the room and struck a wall. The rage boiling in him seem to fortify him as he didn't feel the pain.
He turned to face his mother who have been sitting sillently all the while and spoke in an angry and depressed voice.
"But mummy why?. Why can't they man try and view things from my perspective. Why?.
"Mike, he is your father and he wants the best for you. He surely do". The mother replied calmly but soon jerked with fright as her son swayed violently and spat "he don't" before stumping out of the house, banging the door behind him.
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"Mike.....Mike..". A teammate called as he shook him. He have been standing still for a while, absent minded.
He looked around and saw the other players moving off the pitch. The game is over. The referee had blown the final wistle during the jubilating moment. He looked towards the direction he had earlier on sighted his father but found the seat vacant. He is gone.
He sighted and made his way out of the pitch.
In the dressing room, he slumped into a sofa and rested his back. His teammates were undressing but he wasn't. His mind went back to the moment he sighted his father amongst the crowd, though not cheering but looking pleased.
"Aw. He came to watch me play".
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Mike left the house in anger. In anger with his father for refusing to reason with him and give him a chance to follow his own will. And in anger with his mother for being unwilling to persuade his father on his behalf.
Walking down the street with his hands deep in his pocket, he had no destination in mind so he was just loitering around from street to street until he found himself on Pa. Jones street. He knew this strrst well. He come here every Saturday morning to meet with friends with whom the play soccer but he wasn't in the mood now. He didn't even intend coming here.
He found a huge Stone and sat and as soon as he sat, his mind began to recall that morning incident.
He had tried explaining to his father they soccer player do make it big, giving notable examples.
"Look at Messi. He hardly attend school but he now pay salary to graduates. He's got a place amongst well to do fellows. He have dine and wine with presidents and head of states. Now dad, what could be greater than that"
His father had moved forward as if to hit him but he didn't. Instead, he barked in an angry voice. " Will his dinning with presidents and head of states make him one of them?. Tell me, will he become a president by dinning with one?".
He had his head bowed all the while his father spoke but he rose his head and looked his father in the eyes as an idea struck him.
"Daddy, George weah. He played soccer and that didn't stop him from becoming a president".
His mind leapt with excitement. "That's a crucial point" he thought as he look as his father whi seem to be short of words.
"Look boy". His father finally said. "There is no point arguing. You sit and think of what suits you best. Law, medicine or whatever. This soccer thing is out of the question".
"Dad, it's soccer and nothing else". He had said stubbornly but what came next took him off balance. It was his father's deep voice shouting in anger.
" Will you shut that stinking mouth of yours?. What do you want me to tell my friends and associates?. That my son is not interested in law or engineering, nor any of the highly rated professions. Rather, he is interested in being a soccer player".
"Mtcheew". He hissed as his mind came back to his surroundings. His friends were screaming each other's name as they play. He looked on but absent minded. His mind have gone back home.
After his father left the house, he had turned to his mother in anger. In anger with her for sillently watching her husband trample upon the dream of her only child. Which real mother will sit and watch her child being deprived of his right. The right to choose what you want for yourself.
She is just a woman not a mother. A woman like the one he heard about in the news the previous night who had tried to sell one of her kids in the name of hunger. His mother had surely kept silent in the name of peace with her husband.
"Just a woman, not a mother". He mumured as he stood up and headed back home.
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Mike began to change from his white turned brown jersey, into the club's suit. The other teammates had left so he rushed to catch up with the last person.
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