Thoughts of a lonely goalkeeper

I feel lonely.

I feel a great deal of responsibility when I am stationed between the posts. The trust and belief invested in me makes me swell with pride. Being vested with that paramount a task makes my self belief soar. I am the ‘Guardian of the Goal’.

But mine is a lonely job.

It feels encouraging to see my boys gathering behind the ball to help me keep it out of goal. I feel strong to know that there are behind me, beside me, giving it their all. The team spirit is definitely one that has a distinct whiff. I am buoyed by it always. Unerringly.

But I feel lonely.

Every time my team scores, they celebrate as a bunch, before the fans, teeth clenched, throats parched, fists pumped, legs off the ground. And there I am, on the other side of the field, feeling alone in a crowd. I pump up my fists in the air, call out to the fans to be louder, pat the goalposts for luck, look up to the sky with gratitude and applaud my team heartily. But how I wish I was in the midst of their celebration!

While theirs is a joyous procession, mine is a sombre promenade.

I get to have a broader outlook of the game from behind. I get to shout out orders, call out cheers from afar. But if I could be that helpful cog in the wheel that compensates for every shortcoming, things would be perfect. Nothing's perfect though. Not even this beautiful game.

And when we let in a goal, when I let in a goal, I shrivel and shrink beneath the pain of conceding. I get a pat on the back to get back up, as my team gets forward to launch another attack. I am left to rue the goal. I am condemned to rot in the obscure wilderness of being the man alone between the sticks. I have to await my chance to redeem my reputation.

One chance does not satiate me though. I want more. I want more. As I see my team striving hard to pull back that one goal, as I see them from a distance, fighting hard, I lament the fact that I cannot simply pull back a goal for us.

It feels lonely.