The magic of sports comes from two things; the sheer athleticism on display and the underlying plot of every game.
We are dumbfounded by feats such as Blake Griffin’s dunk on Perkins, Wayne Rooney’s overhead goal against Manchester City, and the knockout reel of Manny Pacquiao. Sports transforms into a soap opera when people stay glued to their television to follow the development of stories such as the Evra-Suarez racism row, Jeremy Lin’s rise to fame, and the Rangers’ going into administration.
Stories such as these develop for the weekend warrior as well, stories that only few care about but feel just as massive. Local teams might develop a rivalry of sorts or a moment of almost sublime inspiration wins a game that matters only to those who participate in it. There are no spreadsheets or media coverage, just the memory and the emotion.
For me a lot of this comes from International FC, the local club I play for. We aren’t just a collection of players that come along when we feel like it. I would like to think we, as a club, have developed past that. It has become a brotherhood of sorts that has learned how to fight for each other. We push each other to go the extra mile, we celebrate each other’s triumphs, and share every defeat.
We are galvanized by moments of inspiration such as Stefan Sager’s stoppage time winner against Smart FC and we are urged on to be the best by the mere thought of Marc Seifert’s horrific injury. We share a dream to push on and make the club better than it is and get to the next level. These are the stories that make the sport more than just a game.
Everyone has got to have that fire in their life. It is that something worth fighting for even if you struggle to put logic behind it at times. Though it maybe insignificant to others, this club and the magic of sports have become a personal flame that adds color and spice to my life.
International FC
