It Never Came

The body language of the home players fell horribly.

That kind of goal was like a gut punch they never wanted to take.

"Wanna go for a 20 minute speedrun?" At the center circle, Sheffield Sunday youth captain and star James Ritchie told his fellow player in the circle.

"So, we'll go wild mode now?"

"Wild? Let's go full wild on them." James looked behind him and waved at his deflated teammates with a cheeky smile. They all tensed up and stood straight, regaining a sudden will to fight.

As if Sunday's players had been possessed, their back line moved up, and their passing became pinpoint and fast. Since it's the later stages of the game, the Blades' stamina struggled mightily to keep up.

A diagonal ball from Sunday's right back found Ritchie in an advanced position. He then easily shrugged off his marker and nutmegged the next in quick succession. He barged his way into the final third with minimal resistance from the away defense.

When Blaise finally managed to track back and provide cover… it was already too little too late.

Ritchie easily beat the tackle and coolly slotted the ball in between the keeper's legs to cut the deficit down to a single goal.

There's no celebration for the home side even if their captain just scored his second of the game, as they fetched the ball in the goal and ran straight to the center circle to restart the game.

Because they know they still have a deficit to erase, and with little time remaining, every single second mattered.

Too bad, the remaining time didn't matter in the end.

***

"Fuck… I'm exhausted…" Inside the away locker room, Terry finally breathed a huge sigh of relief. He missed so many chances that went his way today, but managed to score the one that truly mattered. His hands were shaking in delight.

"Yeah… those bastards sucked the life out of me…" Blaise wasn't any better. He didn't think he'd ever expend this much energy on a youth league match. "Especially that captain, he's such a mighty pain in the ass."

Everyone looked at him with curious eyes. If they remembered it right, their new guy thoroughly outplayed James Ritchie even if he scored two goals. Since that guy he outplayed has enough quality that Premier League scouts look at him, did that mean Blaise was also in the same— or maybe higher— breadth?

"Mate. How'd you do it?" Cam has a soaked towel on his shoulders and didn't even look at Blaise when he asked. "You dominated my ex captain."

Everyone in the room's ears perked up. This is what they wanted to know, so they thanked Cameron inwardly for taking one for the team.

"Huh? I just did my job." He spoke as if it was just an ordinary matter. "I passed the ball around a lot, moved forward, defended if I needed to, and did my corner kick and free kick duties."

"No, no. Don't evade my question." Cameron didn't let this go. One of the few guys he looked up to at his own age group was dismantled by another guy the same age. He wants to get to the bottom of it. "How'd you do it."

"I didn't evade your question." Blaise became stern. "If there's one thing I learned in this life, it is to do what I can, no matter what and who the opponent is."

He knows that doing what you can doesn't always get you the victory in football— as football was and always will be a team sport— but doing what you can increases your chances of getting there.

"Terry did what he can, so even if he missed several shots, he still got a goal in the end. You also did what you can, Cameron. I know you wanted to prove to your family that going to your rival club is the right thing to do. I'm sure they saw that."

The room filled with sweaty teenagers fell silent, as Blaise walked off into the washroom naked like a great sage.

***

The derby ended in a ferocious yet unrewarding note for the home fans. They saw their team create chance after chance, yet they also saw them hit the woodwork, miss by a few inches wide, get their shots blocked, and get their shots saved by the keeper. All in less than 20 minutes of action.

What they felt from the last 20 minutes of the games was the feeling of being left hanging. Their voices cracked, and their screams reached a high, and yet… the goal that should have come after that, just never came. As the game got closer and closer to full time, their expectations went from 'we can win this' to 'we'll take the equalizer.'

They waited, and waited… until the final whistle was blown… but it never came.

The Okojo family experienced everything that could be experienced in a derby. The thing is, their son scored a wonderful goal. So… their mood shouldn't be as sullen as this… right?

The oldest man in the family was having trouble swallowing what had just transpired. He was a Sunday fan since his youth, and his devotion to the club surpassed nothing else. So the fact that his grandson played for their archnemesis, and scored on the derby game played at their home turf at that! How could this grandfather swallow it!

His grandson was a Sunday academy graduate too! What blasphemy!

There's gonna be sparks flying inside the Okojo household tonight.

***

Manchester.

Blaise Atkinson had his earphones on, and was even in a dancing mood as he hopped out of the train. Callum Rowe followed him out, while holding that journal in hand.

This was a very successful debut for Blaise. He had a worldie, two assists to boot, and as his teammates said he also 'dominated' the opposing team's star player. Even if it's a successful debut, he wasn't satisfied with his performance. He knows that he could've done more with the chances he created, and he also could've stopped Ritchie from scoring.

Well, things have to start somewhere.

"Sir Blaise…" The young man behind him tapped his shoulder.

"I'm not a sir."

"My house is this way, so I'm gonna go."

"Oh? Then take care. See you tomorrow lad."

"Congratulations on that wonderful performance, sir. You were top class today." He waved his hand and ran off in another direction.

"I'm not a sir, dammit…"

Blaise smiled. He knew that his father's delicious celebratory food was waiting for him at home.

Good thing that equalizing goal never came.

He hopped and skipped and whistled on his way home.