He was who is today, except nobody knew it.

 

It had been an intense match throughout. Glorious chances on both ends. Goalkeepers up to the task. Fantastic save after mind-boggling save. The fans had been given a show, but all were resigned to a draw, a fair enough result given the effort from both opponents.

 

No one could have anticipated the destiny-fulfilling moment of madness produced by a late-minute, time-wasting substitution. A moment that would usher in an unprecedented era of supremacy and fleet-footed spectacle.

 

The young man had potential and talent, but that doesn’t guarantee success. The road of football is littered with the promise of potential and talent. A small nation could be created with the populace of squandered gifts and wasted promise, let alone that of untimely career-ending casualty.

 

This would be one of the triumphs, unbeknownst to those in attendance at the all-seater.

The youngster trotted on as the final substitute, an exclamation point to the exciting match for the home crowd. The debut. The hopefully promising future of a storied club. Fresh faced. Unassuming. Nervous.

 

It’s a fact that no matter how fast the play or how fast the individual, modern television cannot truly translate it. Surely, it can seem amazing on that medium, but it is brain-blenderingly, eye-scorchingly unfathomable live and in person. And this night, it was even more so.

 

He got a few touches early that ended in passes and deep kicks downfield, nothing remarkable or fancy. And then it happened. An attacking mid-fielder by trade, he dropped back deeper than normal to assist defensively. He dispossessed the man he was marking and passed back to a waiting defender.

 

Now, cleats on grass have a distinct sound, a sweet cracking and swishing, an ebb-and-flow of increasing and decreasing pace. But this. This was different. After releasing the ball to the defender, he spun and shot like a rocket downnfield. And, those boots on grass sounded like fire, a searing and singeing woosh.

 

Fortunately, instinct controlled the reactions of the teammate he had passed to, his feet belied the stunned expression on his face, and he sent a chip pass into space, which the target received with the deftest of touches, mid descent.

 

The race was on. The crowd’s reaction was swift and loud with the opposing team panicked and stunned.

 

They desperately raced back to support the ‘D’ hoping to thoroughly squelch the attack.

 

His pace had taken him far ahead of any helpful outlets, but it didn’t matter. Adrenaline was his ally. A step-over-and-spin left two defenders reeling on the pitch taking him wide left. A desperate defender tried a tackle from behind but was left swinging his feet at air and grass.

 

The right back hadn’t pushed up on the previous play and was now the last man between him and the goalkeeper.

 

He could have easily just cut right into the middle and set up for a cross, but it just didn’t feel right. His heart was racing and electricity seemed to be crackling through his being.

 

Without losing speed, he did a double step-over, not to blow past his opponent but to unconsciously force his stance to change, so he could execute the oldest, but most beautiful move in football.

 

                    Boom.

 

                    Legs agape.

 

                    Space provided.

 

                    Ball nastily split through.

 

                    Nutmeg.

 

Faking with his left leg he froze the goalie and effortlessly side-stepped a desperately sliding center back, and with the gentlest touch, passed the ball past the goal line. The ball gently rolling to a stop – never touching the net.

 

The supporters erupted in a cacophony of ecstasy.

 

Nasty. Goal.

 

And, the first of many.

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