Field of Dreams

The best gift I ever received as a kid was a football. Football was the first sport I actually played and loved so much. That ball was my teddy bear and it was held snug and tight in my arms. I was consumed by the game so much that I was oft reminded not to forget about my grades because they began to strangely resemble footballs.




I wanted to be like Pele or Franz Beckenbauer, the pitch gods of my youth. The Beautiful Game was hardly shown on TV so I saw much of the action on the football field. Of all my intramural sports I played in this was the one I looked forward to and was really good at. Even Lightning Football was more palatable than the cold food in my lunch box.




Whenever I walk around the Ateneo De Manila campus (usually on weekends), the football fields are always a part of my route. It's not just working out a sweat but a literal walk down memory lane. And even after all this time, the memories of games remain as vivid as they were played out all those long years ago. The pitch on a quiet Sunday morning or afternoon is my cathedral; my communion with nature and those boyhood dreams of long ago. Although I don't play the game anymore, my passion and thirst for it has grown more.

I wanted to be like Pele or Franz Beckenbauer, the pitch gods of my youth. I never got even close to being close. That's fine, At least I will always have good memories of being on the field.