The soccer ball missed the net by an even greater margin then it had on his last drill. Krishna grit his teeth and sprinted after the black-and-white object, hoping to catch it before it go too far away. No such luck. This task means sprinting across two of the smaller soccer fields--apparently his leg power hadn’t diminished as much as his aim--where two of the youth league teams were also having their first practice.

The more experienced player normally didn’t mind these excursions. Usually, the younger boys and girls were suitably impressed by his speed and footwork, openly ogling or poking their friends to get their attention. Whispers about how cool he was or how someday they hoped to be as awesome as him were not only understandable but appropriately flattering. Today, however, Krishna heard snickers. No one else on the team had missed by such a wide margin, and the ever critical children were well aware of this fact. It wasn’t that the proud man cared much for what some inexperienced, overweight brats thought of him. No, he simply despised failure, and public acknowledgement of said failure multiplied his disgust.

He rolled the ball back towards him and easily maintained control as he dashed back to his own field. His team had continued through the shooting drill without him, so Krishna took his spot at the back of the line. Cody, one of the mid-fielders, looked back and asked, “What’s up, man? Your normally only miss once or twice a season-getting the bad kicks out of the way now? Maybe I should try that strategy before the game on Saturday!”

“Knock it off, Cody. Krishna’ll do just fine. ‘Sides, after your scoring average last season, not too sure you want to be boasting.” Coach Paul could give snark with the best of them, and even Krishna chuckled whenever his coach exploded into laughter. “Unless it’s about how much you’ll owe us in drinks after the game!”

“No way! You guys nearly drank my credit limit last year. No, this time someone else is going to be LVP!”

LVP, or Least Valuable Player, had originated as a joke, a gentle poking fun at the player who contributed the least to the team for that season. Initially, he would just have to buy a drink for the MVP, but over time the tradition had changed to him buying drinks for the entire team. Krishna had never had to buy drinks for his thirsty team, and he certainly didn’t intend to start doing so this year.

It was his turn once again, and the last rotation before laps. His last chance to prove himself for the day and to reassert that he could, indeed, still make a goal. This time he aimed for the top left hand corner of the goal, keeping his kick as straight as he could. The goalie’s fingertips stopped the ball, but there was no stopping it. The swish of the net had never been more satisfying.

[Total Words: 501]