The crowd rises to their feet in a delirious frenzy of celebration. It was a great victory for the home team. I see the supporters standing all around me - there is absolute pandemonium in the stands. The ninety minutes of joy are over. I have to go back to reality now, return to an empty home, to the little pieces of my life that she left behind. Another week to go now, another week till I can be back here, amidst the smiles. Here, where I won't be reminded of what could have been, had I said or done things just a little differently. Will I ever get a chance to redeem? "This is madness", I whisper to myself.
The crowd rises to their feet in a delirious frenzy of celebration. It was a great victory for the home team. For me, this away loss was the final nail in the coffin. I see the travelling supporters waving banners demanding my resignation. Such fickle are the emotions associated with the game. I have already been informed by the owners that I shall be relieved of my services come the end of the season, to be replaced by a more experienced manager. Will I ever get a chance to manage a major club again? And to top it all I still have my responsibilities to fulfill for the remainder of the season. I walk towards the changing rooms to let my players know that I'll be gone. "This is madness", I whisper to myself.
The crowd rises to their feet in a delirious frenzy of celebration. It was a great victory for the home team. I see our manager hugging the players who pulled off the impressive result. Good times are here again. The fans are chanting aloud the names of their heroes - I am not one of them. I congratulate the goal-scorer and quietly follow the team back to the dressing rooms. Will I ever get a chance to play in the first team? I have been warming the benches for well over a year now, and will be doing so for the foreseeable future. I hear everyone chattering excitedly. I turn on the tap to drown out their sounds. "This is madness", I whisper to myself.
The crowd rises to their feet in a delirious frenzy of celebration. It was a great victory for the home team. The people are shifting out now, hoping to avoid the major traffic jam that will result in a few minutes. Our work begins right now. We must get the pitch back in shape. We must clean the place. The presence of thousands of supporters invariably leaves behind a huge pile of garbage, from soda bottles to banners, from wrappers to scarves. It will take well over an hour before I can take the bus back to my home. The kid was sick when I left him in the afternoon. Goodness knows how bad it is. Will he ever see the light of day again? I start my job, trying to manage the ground. Only six of us are given a workload fit for a hundred. "This is madness", I whisper to myself.
The crowd rises to their feet in a delirious frenzy of celebration. It was a great victory for the home team. I applaud and thank the fans for coming over to watch us play. Is this the last time I will play before these people? I am not getting any younger, and the club haven't asked me to sign a new contract. My performances recently have not been convincing either. Is this the end of the road? Will I make it to the World Cup squad? Will I ever play for my country again? The fans want me out, they want to see younger blood. The battle is won for the name in front of my shirt, but the name at the back is fast fading away. I head back to the change-rooms. "This is madness", I whisper to myself.
The crowd rises to their feet in a delirious frenzy of celebration. It was a great victory for the home team. For me, this away loss was the final nail in the coffin. I see the travelling supporters waving banners demanding my resignation. Such fickle are the emotions associated with the game. I have already been informed by the owners that I shall be relieved of my services come the end of the season, to be replaced by a more experienced manager. Will I ever get a chance to manage a major club again? And to top it all I still have my responsibilities to fulfill for the remainder of the season. I walk towards the changing rooms to let my players know that I'll be gone. "This is madness", I whisper to myself.
The crowd rises to their feet in a delirious frenzy of celebration. It was a great victory for the home team. I see our manager hugging the players who pulled off the impressive result. Good times are here again. The fans are chanting aloud the names of their heroes - I am not one of them. I congratulate the goal-scorer and quietly follow the team back to the dressing rooms. Will I ever get a chance to play in the first team? I have been warming the benches for well over a year now, and will be doing so for the foreseeable future. I hear everyone chattering excitedly. I turn on the tap to drown out their sounds. "This is madness", I whisper to myself.
The crowd rises to their feet in a delirious frenzy of celebration. It was a great victory for the home team. The people are shifting out now, hoping to avoid the major traffic jam that will result in a few minutes. Our work begins right now. We must get the pitch back in shape. We must clean the place. The presence of thousands of supporters invariably leaves behind a huge pile of garbage, from soda bottles to banners, from wrappers to scarves. It will take well over an hour before I can take the bus back to my home. The kid was sick when I left him in the afternoon. Goodness knows how bad it is. Will he ever see the light of day again? I start my job, trying to manage the ground. Only six of us are given a workload fit for a hundred. "This is madness", I whisper to myself.
The crowd rises to their feet in a delirious frenzy of celebration. It was a great victory for the home team. I applaud and thank the fans for coming over to watch us play. Is this the last time I will play before these people? I am not getting any younger, and the club haven't asked me to sign a new contract. My performances recently have not been convincing either. Is this the end of the road? Will I make it to the World Cup squad? Will I ever play for my country again? The fans want me out, they want to see younger blood. The battle is won for the name in front of my shirt, but the name at the back is fast fading away. I head back to the change-rooms. "This is madness", I whisper to myself.
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