‘My moments, her moments. The dog’s moments.’- Krapp’s Last Tape
I was there the moment the opportunity went by. I was looking towards the front of the stand at one of the stewards trying to hide his nose in a dirty great luminous coat - glancing in my direction as chance would have it. Our eyes met. Around me a swell grew and I broke from his glance just as the ball passed through the space in front of the goal. For that moment my gaze joined the gaze of players and spectators, fixed on the ball as it moved towards a player’s forehead. But the header ghosted past the post, and the noise subsided, the moment over.
I watched the ball bounce off a chair with a clatter. It lodged itself under another, discounted. Its significance was unclear to me. It might have stayed there, but a child picked it up and threw it back to the goalkeeper.
I watched the ball bounce off a chair with a clatter. It lodged itself under another, discounted. Its significance was unclear to me. It might have stayed there, but a child picked it up and threw it back to the goalkeeper.
[Some words occasioned by something Oxblogger wrote.]
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