It was a hot Saturday afternoon in Mushin, and Jesse was presently at the community field, knees pulled up to his chest by the sidelines, watching the football match unfold before him.
Just like every other Saturday, Jesse had left home early that morning with the excuse of visiting a friend.
Well, it wasn't entirely a lie — he did have friends here, after all. So, his mother would have to forgive him for that white lie.
He loved it here at the community field, and Saturdays were his escape — his sanctuary.
The football field was his haven, a place where he felt most alive, most himself.
It didn't matter to Jesse that the field was nothing more than a patch of uneven dirt with two rickety goalposts at either end.
Here, he could let go of all his struggles and worries, and be free to lose himself in the game he loved for an entire day. That was what mattered to him.
Jesse looked up ahead.
The match was already in full swing, and it wasn't going well for his team.
The opposing side had already scored a goal, and their confidence was growing with every passing minute. Jesse's team, on the other hand, seemed disorganized and completely toothless in front of goal. They had plenty of possession but seemed to lack the cutting edge needed to convert their chances.
The opposing team's goalkeeper, a lanky man with a surprisingly strong arm, was having an easy day. He hadn't been tested once in the match.
Jesse couldn't help but wince watching the display from the sidelines as his team struggled to find any rhythm.
He knew he could make a difference if he were on the pitch — he knew he could. But most times, they overlooked him and kept him on the bench because of his young age.
It was honestly quite infuriating — not that he could do anything about it at the moment. For now, all he could do was watch helplessly as his team floundered.
The game continued in pretty much the same vein. Jesse's team would build up play nicely, only to falter at the final moment. And now, their passes were growing sloppy due to tired legs.
The opposing team, sensing this, began to push forward a lot more aggressively. Their midfielders were quick to close down space, and their striker was a constant menace, making clever runs and pulling the defense out of position. Jesse's team was struggling very hard to cope, and it wasn't long before the opposition doubled their lead.
It was a well-worked goal.
Their midfielder played a quick one-two with the striker, splitting the defense wide open in the process. The striker took one touch to control the ball and another to slot it past the goalkeeper with ease.
2-0
Jesse's team looked deflated and the frustration was very evident in their body language. They were two goals down, and with the way they were playing, it didn't look to anyone watching like they would be able to claw their way back into the game.
"That's it, it's done and over. What a useless team!" a man in his mid-twenties said with annoyance beside Jesse, shaking his head bitterly.
He was one of the regulars who always showed up to watch the matches, though Jesse had never seen him actually play.
Probably because he couldn't.
For some reason, it was always the people who couldn't kick a ball to save their lives who had the most colourful insults and the most negative opinions about the outcome of a football match.
Jesse sighed and turned away from the pessimistic man, shifting his attention back to the match which seemed as good as over.
Well, it wasn't over per se. Jesse knew better than that.
Football was a game of moments, and one good chance, one moment of brilliance, could pretty much change everything.
Jesse had seen it happen before — teams that looked dead and buried suddenly finding a spark and turning the game on its head.
That was just football for you.
As the game wore on, Jesse's team continued to struggle. Their passes kept going astray, never finding their intended mark. Their runs were too predictable, and their finishing was, quite frankly, abysmal.
The opposition, meanwhile, were playing with a swagger now.
Their passes crisp, their movement fluid, and it looked like they would score again at any given moment even if they were given half a chance.
Eventually, in the final moments of the first half, Jesse's faltering team finally managed to string together more than three passes in a row, and create another chance. Their midfielder played a clever through ball to the striker, who found himself one on one with the goalkeeper.
It was a golden opportunity, and this time, the striker found his shooting boots.
He took a touch to steady himself and then fired a low shot into the bottom corner of the net. The goalkeeper got a hand to it but couldn't keep it out.
GOAL!
First shot on target, first goal.
There was hope, after all.
The first half ended 2-1, and eventually, changes were made to the starting line up, and Jesse was called into the game.
His excitement was palpable as he jumped to his feet. But first, there was one problem...
He didn't have any football boots.
Jesse glanced down at his feet. He was wearing a pair of worn-out sneakers. They were more than fine for kicking a ball around with his friends at school, but here, they were no match for proper football boots — neither were they allowed.
Jesse had to go around asking the players who'd been taken off if they could borrow him a pair before he finally found one who was willing to share.
The boots were a size too big for Jesse, but he wasn't about to complain. He quickly slipped them on, lacing them up as tightly as he could and hoping for the best. They weren't perfect, but they would have to do. It wasn't like he had any other choice anyway.
He just couldn't afford football boots, and even if he could, it wasn't like he could bring them home.
He could just imagine his mother finding a pair of football boots he brought home. Hahaha... That would be begging for an obituary.
Rubbing his hands together and stepping onto the field after a brief warm up, Jesse could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
'Let's go.'