When every game is about to commence,

I look at my cleverly strung up mesh.

Standing in my crease I scan my sector,

looking for that hint and gesture;

that tells me he the attacker will do anything in his power, body, and soul; 

just to get a goal.

I see the abundance of urgency in his warrior eyes,

waiting for me to destroy his pride.

Quick like a boxer, I’m on my feet,

I feel my heart start to weep;

as I squall out the call the other team seeks.

“SHOT!”

I lunge my body and slide my feet,

as I feel everyone’s heartbeat,

like a wall, I’m concrete.

As the shot bears upon my skin,

I think to myself how bad I want to win.

Holding back a deathly howl,

I, myself knows the foul.

To be hit with with a torturing rock,

would hurt less than an un-blocked shot.

Clear is the call my team resembles,

I feel the other team start to tremble.

As I run out of my crease nimble;

I throw my arms up, tall and stature,

waiting for the ball to get to my attacker.

High and mighty I prance back to my circle of chalk,

where no one dares to walk.

My heaven-sent, holy ground,

which be protected by the proud.

Reminiscing the thought in time;

when nobody believed in me.

I am a general,

I am a show-stopper,

I am a wall;

I am goalie.