The Game

It was one of those nights when you can’t get to sleep no matter how much you toss and turn. You can plump the pillows a thousand times; it is too hot with the blankets up too cold with them down. For the umpteenth time I had looked at the bedside clock and this time, it read three thirteen am. In desperation I decided to listen to the football game, a night game .

I tuned in just after half time and had no idea just who was winning and who was losing but the enthusiasm of both sides got me in as I listened. From one end of the field to the other they would run feet pounding, heaving grunts from tackles as one after another they passed the ball back and forth. Every so often a fight would break out and interrupt play until it was sorted out. Lines men and ball boys were running up and down the side lines as the players grunted, groaned and screamed for the ball.

The enthusiasm of the players was catching and the crowd joined in with the team songs each time their team came close to scoring. Every so often a Mexican wave would start up and move slowly around the edges of the playing field while the team supporters clapped their hands and stamped their feet in an endless thunder of enthusiasm. The game seemed to go on for hours and every time that I looked at the red numbers on the alarm clock they seemed to be looking back and mocking me as another fifteen or twenty minutes had slipped away with no sleep.

I still don't know what the final score was but, if those bloody Possums have another game on my roof tonight, I will be buying some live traps and moving them on to another playing field....in a land Far, Far, Away.