ON THE CUSP

Tanaka looks at the ball that he has just put on the penalty spot. It's a stonewall penalty --the kind that even the most controversial referees would award with their eyes closed. There's no doubt about it. Not a single one. Even their opponents — widely known for their penchant for remonstration — can’t even protest that. They know it's an utter waste of time. The referee awarded it without a moment's hesitation. Tanaka’s heart is racing; galloping really. Despite having a very good penalty conversion record, he still gets shudders every time he steps up to take one. He has scored nineteen of the twenty penalties he has taken in his career, but every time he steps up, it's the feeling of the one moment he missed that inundates his mind. No matter the stakes or the magnitude of the crowd, the feeling is the same for him. It's always like he's taking it for the first time. The first thing that happens is that his leg starts shaking; so strongly like he has contracted a bout of malaria. Then his heart rate skyrockets; so much so that he will literally hear it pumping in his ears. Then he feels like he needs to go the toilet. All this, in a space of less than five seconds. Then all of it suddenly disappears when the referee blows the whistle. Everything suddenly stands still, and for those two or three seconds, his mind, body and soul are perfectly still. His heart rate is at its calmest as he makes the run and everything around him stands still for a split second as he executes the kick. Then emotions shoot up again — ecstasy, disappointment, euphoria, despair. He only missed a penalty once but the feeling never quite fully left. It still lingers around him like a malodorous odour.

Today, he's about to experience the most intense ten seconds of his life. He has experienced many tense moments in the football field — which is, without being dramatic, his emotional and spiritual sanctuary. He has been through on goal and facing the goalkeeper one on one on not a few occasions. Everything freezes in that moment. You don’t see anything else in those couple of seconds— not the spectators, or teammates, or match officials. No one. All you see is the goalkeeper. It becomes an epic duel. It feels like an evenly matched boxing match. Both of you psyching up each other to see who drops his guard or makes an error in judgment first. It's an extraordinarily tense couple of seconds. Then there’s defending a one goal lead with a few seconds to go. Your legs seem to buckle from under you for no reason and your concentration seems determined to give up on you and you have to summon up everything in you to not cost your team during those moments. Intense.

Still, nothing comes close to stepping up to take a penalty. It's just in a whole different stratosphere to everything else. The mind games between you and the goalkeeper are unparalleled. For a moment you feel yourself losing the battle and if you allow the feeling to get to your head, you may end up under-hitting or over hitting the ball and the results are often catastrophic.

Tanaka steps back. In five seconds, he will be running up to hit the ball. He has about five seconds to psyche himself up. He already knows what’s going to happen. In about three seconds the referee will blow his whistle and his whole being will know perfect stillness for about two seconds. It's more than stillness, it's tranquillity. Must be what nirvana feels like. It's an amazing experience, though very difficult to explain or recall. You need to experience it to understand it. The referee puts the whistle between his annoyingly thick lips. Tanaka knows that it’s not the thickness of his lips that is annoying him, it's rather, the man who possesses the thick lips. After all, he believes thick lips invariably make people handsome, just like tooth gaps and brown eyes. He can’t stand this referee however. This is the first decision all game to go his way. He has been hacked all game and the referee has turned a blind eye every time. As if he has a grudge on him. At one point Tanaka and his teammates protested about it and three of them including Tanaka got booked for their trouble. So Tanaka feels disgusted at the man's thick lips and unfairly perfect hairline.

What did such a deliberately odious man do to deserve such a perfect hairline in his forties while mine is receding in my teens?

The referee blows his whistle. A little too harshly, Tanaka thinks, as if trying to jinx him. Tanaka's body goes into that all familiar state of peace that transcends all understanding. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. He likes it this way, it’s a familiar territory. He knows the stakes. If he scores this one, his team wins the National High School's title for the first time in their history. His name will be indelibly enshrined in the annals of the school’s history. The victory will also come with prize money and a place in the regional High Schools competitions — a chance for Tanaka to go out of the country for the first time. Apart from that, there are scouts from the country's top clubs looking for talent. Him converting the penalty will put him firmly in the spotlight. But secretly for him, none of those is the best reward for scoring the goal. His dad and mum are in the crowd. This is his chance to make them proud for the very first time in his life. He has always been the family's black sheep, choosing to dedicate his time to football instead of school. Two of his older siblings are lawyers and the other is studying medicine. They have made his parents proud numerous times. All of them were always top of their class from primary school to University. All of them graduated with first class degrees and all of them are destined for successful careers. He on the other hand has always been an average student. Constant comparisons with his siblings was a source of extreme misery for him growing up, because he always fell short. Far short. But he was passionate about football and channelled all his rage and feeling of inadequacy to the football field. He turned out to be a formidable striker — quick, intelligent, deceptively strong and possessing elite predatory instincts. His parents hardly took notice of it or cared to until now. He's one second away from either winning or losing their approval forever. He starts his run. It's a light jog really. He has seen some players sprint to take a penalty. He thinks it ill-advised. Speed impedes your technique. You can never hit the ball perfectly at top speed. The ball somehow looks like it’s rolling. It doesn’t faze him. His brain always plays that trick on him when he is about to hit the ball. It's a product of total focus. He looks at the goalkeeper one last time. He looks like he's covering half of the goal with his massive frame. Tanaka doesn’t care. If you hit it well you don’t need to worry about the goalkeeper. He hits it hard and low. Perfect hit. Everything stands still for a split second. The keeper dives the right way and stretches his hand long enough. Excellent goalkeeping. But not excellent enough. The shot is too fast, and just a tad bit too far for him. It scratches his fingers slightly before settling in the bottom right corner. The crowd erupts. Tears are welling up in his eyes. Finally!