I know I look disgusting. I know I’m nothing but trash to anyone who looks at me. But what would you rather have? A life where you look all pretty because you didn’t have a purpose or a life where you look weather-beaten, withered, discoloured after serving your purpose?
I remember how I was born. Put together, sewn, piece by piece with my heart in the middle. But I wasn’t happy being on the shelf in a box not knowing what to do. I was happy once I was put to use. I was hammered, edged, spun, swung, bounced and I enjoyed every bit of it because that was my purpose.
I have been to places. From fields that were covered in lush green grass to rock hard cemented surfaces. From immaculate streams to cringeworthy drains. From academies where I was used every day to someone’s cupboard where I was found years later.
I have had my good days and the bad. But I’ve never complained. I gave every moment my best.
And I sit here completely satisfied and you know why? Because people used to do anything possible to have me. They needed me so they jumped fences, risked their lives on busy roads, had their hands half sunk in a drain and still smile trying to get me. They loved it when I came straight into their hands. Oh how they jumped up and down in celebration! I still feel great remembering how millions of people watched and roared as I soared into the sky and ended up in the crowd. They would fight for a touch of me. A few kissed me before throwing me down the pitch to let me know I was valued and loved. A few kicked me to vent their frustrations. Some wiped the dirt off my face and some just looked at me in wonder.
I will meet my end as the rest of you, but I’m not gonna let that depress me. For maybe today I’m viewing dirt, but back in the day I had the best view of the game.
