The goal

And just then, a beam of light came forth from the darkened skies; a saving hand from the heavens. A boot came across the penalty area, parting the infidels and making its way to the loosened ball. The darkness trembled as this translucent ray shattered the blackened sky. Just when all hope was lost; just when the Blues collective rear felt too sore from the reaming they had received from the incompetent referee; just when each of them wanted to fold, fall to their knees and scream: LET ME OUT!...a hero stepped forth. A man of integrity. A man of strength. A man of grace, skill and power. A man that personifies all that is right, not just in the world of football, but in the...uhh...regular world as well. A man whose patience is exemplified week in and week out as he deals with college educated teammates that are incapable of typing either 'Yes' or 'No' in response to a straightforward inquiry such as, 'Can you make it Sunday?' Yes, this was a man of belief. A man of charisma. A man of unrepentant drive and determination. A man of...poise. Winters (?) lobbed the ball over a few defenders heads (?) to Lacock who raced down the side and into the corner. He sent the ball across the mouth of the goal where Degerolamo's sliding attempt took him into the keeper. Another little shit dove onto the pile too. The Hero found himself all alone in the box with the ball bouncing toward him. He drove his left foot through the ball, guiding it perfectly past the mangled pile of humanity that lay on the goal line and into the side panel. The man spun around to return to the center circle with the same poise that allowed him to place the ball neatly and precisely where it needed to go. It can't be said for sure but reports from around the time of The Goal, yes, just as the ball crossed the line, a man on crutches sitting in the bleachers threw away the sticks and walked freely with no assistance! Dogs not yet housebroken began opening their owners doors and letting themselves out to piss and shit. Snobs from  Fox Chapel realized that they're not better than everyone else just because they're from Fox Chapel. It was a miracle. A work of heaven, personified by The Hero. But despite these phenomena coming to pass before everyone's very eyes, there was no celebration. There was no whooping and yapping. Just a few congratulatory handshakes, for the man knew there was still work to be done. But for that one fleeting moment, those at the Shady Side Academy stadium were exposed to the humanized iteration of grace and precision. And despite only a handful bearing witness on that Sabbath, all were enlightened.