Fooball
Nothing is forever.
You pull a muscle, you’re fine fifteen minutes later. You blast a shot off the post, you’re celebrating disturbing the back of the net soon after. You’re sprawled on the ground one moment, and off and running the next. The lightning strike of cramp hits you, but you grimace and push it off and you’re in the game, as soon as you can stand on your feet. You play well one day, and then TERRIBLY the next.
And then well the next.
Sport, the great teacher.
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