Recycling

The Footballer Smirked

I remember it first. Our times sat down with cheers, watching not only us with many people who also agreed. One village.

“Ooohoooi.”

“Haha, score goals keep, man!”

The old men drummed at the rhythm of laughter. Compact for each other. We as a child used to only enliven the atmosphere between them.

Gather up there. Watching old-school television that's about the size I don't know. It is difficult to explain, television was quite expensive in its time.

I don't want to mention the brand, I'll guess the ad. It was a legendary television that until year after year was still crowded and sturdy on it stuck on the wall.

Seen by many people. Staring at a crowded football match, felt like being in the original stadium. Even the coffee shop was a lot of buyers and selling sweet food sales.

“That's a football player.” Sajak pointed enthusiastically to the television screen in hopes that at that time he might skyrocket.

I don't care whether it's a football player or a football player. Fiction is certainly in the real world, there are no football players and what is the ball? Whatever, it's called fiction. Just making up a story that has no basis in knowledge. This is the beginning of all this, man.

“That match seems to have clearly won our team. Look, the enemy scores far behind, even I think they won't be able to score.” One of the gray-haired old men there could be heard explaining the analysis of his gaze focusing on paying attention.

My gaze looked at the entire crowd of people who were in the crowd. Many people jostled wanting to stare at the television screen up there that was stuck on the ceiling of the wall. That's exactly the direction at twelve o'clock the woman I was looking at. That's where Wapta is. Watching on the side of the audience cheering.

The rhyme pulled my neck collar. “See that, The footballer grinned.”

The television screen displayed the style of the best grin of Sajak's favorite player. Football players who grin.

Yeah—frequently good, man. Sajak tried to follow his idol who managed to score there, then worship, grinning on the green field.

Say hello. Yes, so. It even made me as a shield that he likes to shake with a warm look and the best smile. Voicing his aspirations and ambitions is determined to become a soccer player.

I think about that there are many things that are a container of someone's ability to increase and about inspiration that can come from anywhere.

I want to scream inwardly. It's the spirit that day he pointed at the fan. A very different imagination from mine.

Only he could imagine what and how this relationship would be between a fan and a football field. The ambassador's office is in America. Two shadows at once appeared regarding what was part of life and his ideals only briefly pointed towards the fan.

At that time I was just laughing. “I actually don't care if the footballer grins or not, but listens to the crowd's cheers. That's exciting and fun.”

Really fun. Sajak nodded saying I was a haters for his idol players. As soon as possible I pushed aside, between us there was a warm conversation.

The defeat of the enemy team is still long, and one's previous analysis may be correct. Score indicates 0-2. The score is quite astonishing, while the opposing team has not scored a single number. Supporters of semi-conscious excitement. Shouts were loud and there the sponsor voiced his passion while singing the national anthem proudly waving the flag of Sang Saka Merah Putih on the ceiling.

I sneered a little at him for not liking him, he kept repeating the grins that I stared at somehow sucks.

“Can be quiet a little, no? You know it doesn't seem like it's going to make her happy because you're emulating her style. Later, you will be accused of plagiarism, will you?”

Laugh rhyme. “Plagiar? Uh, that's a different story, man. You know a piece of writing or music and so on?”

“I think it's the same, right now you're looking to upgrade his style.”

“Plagiat style someone like smile and so it seems to be okay, no one can make him lose too, right?”

In the middle of the crowd. The rhyme is back to imitate his style. “If I could compose a poem now, I would compose it, man.”

“Stuck the ball grinning, did you see the grin on his face?” Repeating the previous speech. Forgetting about plagiarism that I obviously don't like.

“I'll give you the title of the poem Pesubet Bola it Sneers. With superfantastic intonation that vibrates.”

Mimicking the grin style of the face I stared at sucks. Whether it can be classified into plagiarism cases or not? Obviously at that time I just said. Just following the feeling of resentful hearts made by him.

The footballer grinned. Yeah—create poems that can thrill. I always look forward to the poem. A steady and successful grin makes the enemy wipe the face drenched in sweat water. The match was still strong and continued with my chaotic feelings that appeared uncertain. As soon as I could I wanted to stay away for a moment.

When it comes to poetry, I can imagine Sajak from 3rd grade Elementary School is already good at making it. That could be proof in this grade 6 SD.

As I read in one of the libraries one's abilities developed over time. Trained as much as possible, the ability of Sajak in terms of writing poetry can be seen from his achievements so far participated in the poetry competition between classes and schools. His champion. The champion who exceeded every student at that time, the braggart with his absurd imagination.

Sajak watched the minutes of the game on the television screen. Whisper to me in his style.

“Eh, you saw the minute of the match, and soon the match was over. We know who will win, right? We better unplug it from here, let it look cool.” Sajak chuckled with his whisper.

Without many words. He pulled my arm with a crunch, led and burst out in the crowd. It was at that moment that I glanced at the Wapta that was in front of me.

Passing with a glance. This life story is confusing, I never thought she was the only woman I could never forget.

She was the woman who really made me smile half wanting to fly through the clouds. The same divorce, the blow I couldn't get.

In the middle of the daydream I was sitting in the black car that had picked me up. Staring out of the window, bustling down and down the vehicle, my gaze and my memories continued to cast a shadow over the past. If I were like a rhyme that could string together beautiful sentences. Champion one at the race just now, I guess it makes me want to laugh and it looks like all I can do for now is learn to be like him.

Learn to string words and make the arrangement like a tone between the pieces and the clarity of the waterfall to the bottom formed a sheen of seven colors that look charming beautiful.

All of that can be done, as long as there is determination and self-willingness to go where? It can be for me to keep going forward or backward, without regret and so on. My dream, this is how it is.