Heaven is a green field with goal posts at each end

I remember one afternoon in my senior year back in highschool when I was running from the gym to the soccer field. Me and two others decided to forfeit our second sepak takraw match (after winning the first one) just so we could play in the soccer finals. We were playing the juniors, the usual nemesis in scenarios such as these. I didn't get to play much during the game, and when I did, the ball hardly went to my side of the field. So for the most part I stood at the sidelines and saw just how bad my teammates were doing.

The Juniors scored first, and it was developing to be a very physical match. There were egos flying around so it was difficult to substitute the players who weren't doing so well just because they wanted to get their licks in. It seemed hopeless, but near the last minutes of the game, one of my teammates finally got to score, making it a tie. For the remainder of the game, we were able to keep the score at a deadlock, but just barely.

It then had to end with a penalty shootout. I was part of the first five. We all failed to score. But so did the Juniors. So they rounded up another five for the 2nd penalty shooutout. Our goalie performed so much better than we expected him to and we may not have made it that far if it were not for him; but even that didn't stop the Juniors from scoring first. So the pressure was on us. We miss the next four chances to equalize at the shootout, and we had one more shot. If we didn't make it, we were going home crying. It was then that I noticed that everyone in school seemed to stop to watch the soccer finals. There were a lot of people. A lot of people who were gonna see the seniors have theirs butts handed to them if we would miss that last penalty.

We held our collective breath as my teammate kicked the ball. You cannot imagine the noise and the screams of joy (and relief) when he made the goal. He saved us and our senior pride. We were still in the game because of it and now they had to round up another batch of penalty shooters, but only three from each team this time around.

At this point I was angry. I was feeling the frustration build up. I realized we were lucky. I realized we didn't have to make it come to a point where we had to depend on getting lucky. I was angry because I didn't contribute much when I was in the field. I was frustrated because I didn't fight for my right to be in the field when I was better than a lot of my teammates. I couldn't forgive myself for missing my shot at the shootout.

And in all this, I realized I wanted to win...badly. And at that point, I was done hoping and watching from the sidelines and always restraining myself. I didn't want to leave that moment knowing I could have done more. I didn't want the day to end knowing I didn’t even try.

I tell my teammates I'm taking the shot. I tell them I'll be one of the three. That's the only time I ever recall really stepping up to a task and making it my responsibility. I knew what I had to do, and I was going to do it. I wanted to do it. I've been kicking a soccer ball ever since I was seven, and all those moments lead me up to that point.

My teammates miss the first 2 shots. The Juniors miss all three. Then I realized I could end it there. If I made the shot, we would win. And there was nothing else in my mind at that point but winning. Remembering my miss earlier only strengthened my resolve. I decided in my mind that I was going to end it.

It's just like in the movies. Everything gets quiet. Everything fades away. There's just you, the grass you walk on, the ball, the goal and the goalie. I take one last deep breath, and everything happens in silent slow motion. I see the ball go through the upper left corner of the goal but I consider the possibility of my eyes deceiving me because I don't hear a thing. I turn around casually to the crowd and I see everyone jumping around in a frenzy. I still don't hear a thing. A few of the guys try to carry me but I crouch close to the ground to keep them from doing that. I don't remember much of what happened then except that I rushed to the CAT armory, fell to my knees and offered God a prayer of thanks.

Naturally, there was some talk after that. About how winning the soccer finals made a lot of the seniors feel like, well...seniors. And there was a little debate about who was the real hero of the game. For the record, it wasn't me. I would elaborate further but fame or being the "hero" is hardly the point of me telling this story.

The point is desire and will. The lesson is determination and passion. I've had a few shining moments in my life, that being one of them, but not because we won. It's because it was a moment of pure surrender. A moment of pure will. A moment of pure purpose. I think about that moment and I envy the clarity I had in that field and the focus I had to pursue something I honestly loved. I gave it my all, and for brief moments, I've never felt more alive.

I try to remember that moment now, and I try to remember its lessons. I have to step up. I have to give my all. I have to try. And just maybe, I'll get to live this life the way it's suppose to be lived.

....

"The greatest danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, but that it is too low and we reach it." - Michelangelo