Running out of Time

The green light illuminated from the small screen within my palms. I watched as the players stepped onto the field - chest high and chin up, with the biggest smiles on their faces as they waved to their fans. A roar of “YAAHHHH!” and calls of admiration echoed from the small device and filled the inside of my room. I smiled. My heart was weak, but the warmth from the screen was able to warm up my cheeks while the warmth from the scene playing before my eyes warmed up my heart.

Soon, the referee’s whistle silenced the stadium as the game began and the first kick of the game was taken. My eyes jumped from every corner of the screen, watching as the ball travelled effortlessly between the players in blue. But soon the flow was abruptly stopped by an unpredictable slide tackle, the first foul of the game. I sank my head back in annoyance. “COME ON!” I yelled, gripping the phone with every bit of strength that remained in my muscles.

The hands on the only clock that was permitted in the room ticked with every minute that went by. Twenty minutes passed before I realized that I was holding my breath, but breathing was already becoming unfamiliar to me. The game continued for nearly thirty minutes before half time was finally called, it was zero-zero. As the players started exiting the field, heads hanging low, their breathing quick and short, and sweat dripping from every pore, I saw a reflection of myself on the screen and instantly remembered.

It was three years ago - I was out of gas, struggling to breathe, sweating, but instead of walking off the field, I dropped to the ground, and that was the last moment I felt the prickliness of real grass, and the color green became a green light, incomparable to the real thing. The whistle starting the second half broke me out of my thoughts and the game resumed, more or less with the same tempo as the first half.

But after ten more unsuccessful attempts, the ticking started again and I realized that they were running out of time, just like I was. I yelled a name, blinking back any tears welling up inside of me, while screaming from the top of my lungs as if my heart itself was screaming, desperately hoping to transfer every bit of energy left in me to the player with the ball who was now jumping over the last defender. For a second, everything went quiet, my eyes un-squinting ever so slowly, watching as the player froze in mid air, the ball stuck on his foot, and everything around him slowing down. The opposing goalkeeper leapt, and all the screams of the fans merged into one uniform heart wrenching cheer as if passing a baton to the last man in a relay race. The player drew his leg back and released it with a loud resounding sound that cracked through the air. The most powerful shot I have ever seen zoomed past the goalkeeper who was too late to reach it.

The ball went into the back of the net with tremendous velocity. Roars erupted from the crowd as they jumped up and down and then into each others’ arms, hugging and chanting with joyous smiles. Lights lit up the stadium which lit up only a small portion of my room. Tears began streaming down my face and I peeled my eyes away from the screen, the green light fading from view as the phone dropped to the floor. I rested my back against the bed, and let the wall support my head as my body went limp, but my mind remained awake. I moved my eyes up and stared at the clock for a second before my breathing started becoming coarse, but I did not care. With only eight hours left what did it matter if I shaved off two of it; the clock was only a reminder that I would never get to step out onto the green grass that illuminated from my screen, I would never get to experience the live roar and chants of the crowd that reverberated through the stadium, and it was a reminder that I could only be a spectator from behind a screen, living through the light that emitted from it.

My only wish from when I was five-years old came to an end when I entered my first ambulance, and now my wish was to live past the age of ten. I released a deep breath. Sometimes I think the world is unfair. I have to fight for my life and settle for watching someone else fulfill the dream I will never have a chance to fulfill.

The room started growing cold and that’s when I heard it: the cheers of the fans slowly began rising from nowhere, and as it got louder it slowly formed into the harsh hum of the life support machine that was failing before my eyes. Doctors and nurses streamed in through the door like players bursting through a banner, the look of both terror and expectancy painted on their faces. My mom’s petrified face stood out among the sea of weary faces, but soon vanished like all the rest. “GET THE PATIENT ON THE STRETCHER!” I felt cold hands clutching me from every side, and as I closed my eyes, I could feel my body being lifted as if being lifted by a swarm of celebrating fans right after a game winning goal.

The room grew even colder and before breathing finally became unfamiliar to me, I opened my eyes for the last time and watched as the walls stretched far out into the distance and the grey floor tiles turned into green grass, and the harsh hum of the machine transformed back into the chants and cheers of all the adoring fans.

I was back in the stadium, only this time, I could smell the strong stench of sweat and see the white stadium lights, which shone brighter than the sun, getting brighter and brighter as each second passed by.