I’m a bit of a sports lover. Some of my friends hate sports. Playing them, watching them. And I understand where they’re coming from. People have bad experiences playing sport, or with people that play sport.
I think it’s a shame though, because I have always loved sport and what it can mean, all different sports. But always team sports.
There’s just something about it; pushing yourself physically next to others doing the same, for a common goal. Not wanting to let them down, even when you just want to lie down on the ground and never get up. Running that extra few minutes, persevering for just that little bit longer.
In the game, reading the play, trying to work out what the other team is doing, what their plan is. Working together to thwart it.
All in real time. Constant movement.
With wind in your hair and mud on your knees and bruises on your ankles.
Celebrating when your teammate kicks the goal or clears the ball or makes the tackle.
Yelling encouragement when they miss. Picking each other up out of the dirt when we fall.
Standing together in a line with your arms around each other, being a team. Shaking hands with the opposition, in a sign that it’s just a game, we are not enemies. They won, they played better than us.
Eating orange pieces and laughing together over something that happened in the game.
Sport.
It’s wind and dirt and heart.
Brain Storm 