A ball bounced my way from the direction of a stone soccer field. History has proven conclusively that it’s better to throw it back to avoid losing face, but I still saw my right leg pull out, after which the ball flopped into the arms of the keeper with a nice arc about 35 meters away. The harvest: applause, three thumbs up and a ‘nice cock!’
If I knock over an inkwell and the connoisseurs see an important work of art in it, I will accept the admiration with a grin, but with football it is different. From the last time I accidentally did something impressive with a ball, as a ten-year-old left half in a hopelessly performing C8, I remember suddenly skyrocketing expectations about my ability. After that, all I could do was disappoint.
Apparently that lasts a long time. So long that I now heard myself loudly apologizing to a group of strangers for the coincidence of that perfect pass.