The Good "G'oal" Times

The net shook. The ball, still affected by the spin but on it, rolled gently down the mesh as the ball hit the dry ground beneath with a less-then-resounding thump. Unsure of where the ball went, Wesley looked around and noticed the ball had gone in the net, with his hair messed up from the header he had just attempted from the corner kick. It was a goal. A smile lit on his face and he was assaulted by several teammates celebrating his first goal of the season for his second year on the senior soccer team. He hugged the first person in sight, who seemed to be happier then himself. He heard his coach from a distance, who yelled "Hey Wessss..."

"Wes! Stop running so fast!" said a teammate who seemed amused by how fast Wesley was running after his achievement. It was a goal. But for Wesley, it was not just "a" goal, but his second one of the game. He was still a relatively new player, being with his travel team for only one season and having recently finished his season with the junior soccer team. It was the semi-final game for his travel team playoffs, and Wesley's team was up 2-0 thanks to a somewhat lucky strike from his left leg. The obviously happy boy gave a sigh of relief and was subbed off, happy he could lead his team at a game as important as this. He sat on the bench and closed his eyes, trying to visualize the image of him scoring...

And so, time passed. Wesley opened his eyes. It was now the second half and Wesley was back on the pitch, playing with a 3-1 lead. Having missed an open net earlier for a hat trick, Wesley was not happy and was hoping he could make up for it. He walked up the wing he was playing on and awaited the next pass that would reach him. And so the pass came to him. He ran up the wing, trying to avoid the defenders tenaciously marking him. But unfortunately, he was unsuccessful and got clipped from behind, leaving him tumbling to the ground. As he fell, Wesley felt a painful sting come from his hand. He let out a brief scream as blood trickled from his bloody hand which had just been punctured by the cleats of an opposing defender...

Wesley held out his hand to be shaken. It was the end of a match where Wesley was the star of the show, having scored five goals of his own. It was Wesley's final year of elementary school and he was glad he could tell the tale of him scoring five goals if any travel teams wanted to know hear of his credentials. The other team grinned as they accepted their lost and shook the hands of the many players who had been told by their coach to not say anything. According to Wesley's coach, the other team didn't deserve to be told anything during the hand-shaking ritual practiced after every soccer match because they had been "rude" and "unsportsmanlike." After finishing the handshakes, Wesley packed his stuff and prepared to leave, ready to tell his father about his amazing feat accomplished today. As he walked off the field, a teammate of his holding the game ball signaled to him, obviously trying to tell him to take the game ball with him for scoring a hat trick, yelled.
"Hey Wessss..."