ESSAY (MY SO FAR NEVER REALLY REVEALED TALENT)

I’m a terrific soccer player. Not only am I the best talent in the world of female soccer, no, there isn’t even one man alive who can beat me. Maybe Maradonna would have been able to put me down in an one-on-one but we never got the chance to get together for more than ten minutes. And once we had finally set a date, it turned out that he was doing drugs.
Why you’ve never heard of me? Is that what you ask me? Well, I don’t think that’s relevant. For someone as good as I, who doesn’t exist, but okay, all the pathetic ball play of the so called ‘pro’s’ is annoying. Everybody speaks about Cruiff as if he’s a big soccer hero, well, believe me, his game sucks. Excuse me for my language, but I can’t put it in another way.
How it all started is maybe not relevant either, but far more interesting than the question: ‘Where were you last EC when the Dutch Holy Eleven needed you so badly?’. But the answer to that will maybe come with my explanation of how it all started.
Well, because it concerns me, it all started on the moment I was born. First things first, and other talents of mine, like crying, eating, shouting, sleeping, playing, learning and a lot more, had to develop. When I was ten, I finally got my first soccer lesson. And from that moment on, something in me, which was already there before I was even born, started to grow. Grow so big that after two weeks I was the best of my team. But because of one other talent of mine, my perfect knowledge of people, I didn’t show my best. I never did. Because I knew that my female team mates would hate me out of jealousy, and later, when I started my teenage years, I knew that boys would be afraid of me.
So I kept quiet, I made blunders on purpose, and I became an average midfielder in an average girl team. But on my sixteenth birthday, maybe that was the magic of sweet sixteen, something happened to me. My legs started to tremble, my eyes got wet and then I saw the light: I hád to play soccer on my own level. I called Cruiff, Ronaldo (friendly guy, by the way), Pélé (he might be old but still not bad, maybe when he still would be in his younger years he would have been able to keep up with me) and a lot more big soccer names. At first they laughed at me, as you do now for sure, but somehow I could convince them of my sincere arrogance and they wanted to teach me a lesson.
I played a lot one-on-ones, believe me. And I’ve won them all. And then, one day, after just had slaughtered Figo (8-2 in ten minutes), I realized that I was all alone. And soccer is hard to play on your own. The ‘lonely at the top’ blues struck down on me and I cried for more than two days. After that, I decided to forget all about soccer, and I even visited a ballet school. But there I felt lonely again, this time dangling on the bottom of the dancing world. So for the rest of my life I had to stay an average soccer player, and no one would ever know my name-with-my-number (8 or 10 of course)… Until I saw this advertisement of an un-known company. It went like this:
SOCCER HERO (F/M) NEEDED
GT 2 B THE BEST, MST B ABLE 2 BEAT THEM ALL
Well, that pretty much sounded like they were looking for me. So last week I wrote my life story down, posted it and the people responsible for the advertisement invited me for an interview next Saturday.
And now, when the Dutch team is plodding away on the joke they call ‘grasmat van de Arena’, shivering of fear for the Portuguese (that poor Figo, he was very frustrated after his big loss), I have to postpone my (hopefully this time not only soccer) date with Zidane, which was planned on upcoming Saturday, and I will maybe finally get the chance to be challenged…
I can’t tell you where, or by whom, but it is for sure I’ll be gone next Saturday, and hopefully the next time you hear of me, you know my name-with-my-number (8 or 10).