In the Heart of the Game

A Tale of My Enchanting Soccer Odyssey at Cibo Vita
At the break of dawn, the news arrived, rippling through the corridors of my company, Cibo Vita. A pulsating wave of anticipation and joy echoed among us — a friendly soccer match had been organized between the employees. An air of euphoria wrapped us, mirroring the palpable excitement of a grand finale.

As someone with a past sprinkled with goalkeeping, I volunteered myself as the last line of defense. The previous days found me immersed in the spirited joy of preparing for the game. I dove into stores, carefully selecting a goalkeeper jersey — a testament to the excitement coursing through my veins.

Stepping onto the turf on the match day, at 41, I felt a sense of vitality coursing through my veins — a feeling credited to my recent weight loss. My dedication to a healthier lifestyle had endowed me with a sense of lightness, a renewed vigor that made me confident, even in the face of the impending match.

However, the match unfolded in a manner far from my expectations. From the moment the whistle sounded, it was clear we were up against a robust opposition. They pressed hard, launching an onslaught of attacks. My first significant intervention came in the early minutes — a heart-stopping save that, while splendid, left my elbow injured. The sharp sting of pain was overwhelming, but I attempted to soothe myself amidst the chaotic battleground of the field.

The opposing team continued to mount relentless pressure, ripping through our defense, and I found myself at the mercy of their calculated strikes time and again. One memorable instance saw me facing an opponent one-on-one. Eager to unsettle his shot, I moved forward but found myself slipping, falling hard onto my hip. Quick to capitalize on this, their striker lobbed the ball past me, a humiliating blow that saw us trailing in the match.

In the same episode, I felt a sharp twinge in my calf — the dreaded strain that athletes fear. The pain significantly hampered my movements, and taking positions became a herculean task. Unable to continue as the goalkeeper, I passed on my gloves to a teammate and took up a forward position. Despite the excruciating pain, I managed to craft a few promising opportunities for myself. But, the strain soon hampered my agility, and I found myself merely pacing through the rest of the game.

As the minutes wore on, our rivals exerted a dominant force, reducing us to mere spectators on our own turf. When the final whistle blew, we succumbed to a crushing 9–1 defeat. It was clear as day that our team was simply outmatched. Even the most spirited among us, like Juan Carlos, found themselves unable to even receive the ball — his large belly and heavy hips were his arch-nemesis on the field.

Post-match, nursing a potent injury, I made my way home, a long bath serving as my only solace. As I stepped into the comforting embrace of the warm water, I reflected on the day. It was clear — my age was catching up, and staying fit was no longer an option, but a necessity. It was high time I introduced a regular exercise regime into my lifestyle, not only to stay active but also to truly enjoy these recreational activities we occasionally indulged in at work. It was a lesson learned the hard way — but nonetheless, a valuable one at 41.