Essays, homework, and soccer practice – a regular day for Mikey as he comes home from school. One clear summer day, he steps out of the school bus parked by his house and waves goodbye to his friends with a faint, forced smile. “See you guys at the game tonight,” he says. “It’s gonna be a big one,” his voice struggling to find its strength.

“Don’t let us down,” says a voice, “You’re our star player.”

The bus drives off and the smile fades from Mikey’s face. He walks towards the door of his single-floored house, closes his eyes, and opens it. “I’m home!” he exclaims. No reply. He sighs, “Thought so.” His eyes sink to the floor. The empty house feels cold, barren, and claustrophobic, like a classroom at night – empty, abandoned, and so quiet, you can hear your heartbeat.

He showers and changes into his sportswear. His phone rings. Incoming call from Dad. He stares at it for a while before letting out a breath and answering the phone. “Hello, my son. I’m running late today. I was finishing up at work,” he says in a rash, deep voice.

“As usual,” he mumbles, “You weren’t betting again, were you?”

“Of course not, boy. You’ve got the finals match tonight. I’ll be home in ten minutes. We must arrive early so you’ll be on time for warm-ups.”

“Okay cool, I’ll see you soon.”

Mikey ends the call, and a brief smile lights up his face – if only for a moment. He looks towards the sky with a bitter fondness and mumbles, “He remembered.”

An hour later, Mikey’s dad arrives in a hurry and eagerly grins at Mickey. “Come, boy. We must go,” he says. Mikey grabs his supplies and packs them in the back of the white Toyota Carina. They drive to the soccer field in silence. Plenty of cars are already parked outside the school. On the field are two teams of red and blue, the Eagles and the Sharks respectively. The Sharks coach notices the car and yells for Mikey to warm up. Mikey’s face goes red as they rush towards the field. “Sorry I’m late, coach,” he says. Coach pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re always late, Mikey,” he says. “It’s five o’clock, the match starts at six. You have an hour to get ready.”

“Yes, coach. I won’t let you down.”

“This is the biggest game of the season, Mikey. You’d do well not to.”

Mikey joins the other players for warm-ups while his dad eagerly greets a few other parents in the stands, shaking their hands and enthusiastically striking up a conversation.

An hour of intense warm-up routines later, it’s finally time for the match to begin - Mikey’s team, the Sharks, versus the Eagles. The opening ceremony starts with roaring drums and deafening music as cheerleaders perform their routines. Mikey bends forward with his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths. He starts to panic, pacing back and forth. He pauses and sees his dad in the crowd, cheering. His breathing slows down before going back to normal. “You got this,” he says to himself. The teams run out onto the field. The crowd’s cheer is deafening, but Mikey doesn’t hear a thing. He’s tunnel-visioned on nothing but the game - only occasionally looking over at his dad in the bleachers.

The whistle blows and the game begins with Mikey as striker. The ball goes back and forth as Mikey struggles to score. He’s getting tired, his breaths are getting heavier and deeper. The Sharks barely take the lead for the first half. He sees his dad in the crowd, he seems anxious. “I’ll win this for you,” he says. At half-time, Mikey drinks some water and peers out of the locker room to see the other parents pushing and laughing at his dad in the crowd. “They think I’m gonna lose,” he says. He looks at his dad with loving eyes. “We’ll show them.”

The second half starts and the ball moves fast like the golden snitch, the crowd can barely keep up – the ball is just a blur. Eventually, it moves to Mikey, in prime position for his first goal. He sees the ball flying towards him as he runs to keep up. He manoeuvres the ball past the defenders, aims, and shoots. Time seems to stop as the ball soars through the air, only to land out of bounds. With only a few minutes to spare, the Eagles play the throw-in, sending the ball to centre field. The ball slowly makes its way toward the Sharks’ goal as Mikey peers at the crowd, anxiously looking for his dad. His eyes shift back to the ball, right outside the goal. “Defend the goal!” he exclaims. The opposing striker shoots. A look of terror falls on Mikey, and his heart stops. “Goal!” exclaims the announcer. The crowd cheers, but all Mikey can hear is silence. A player runs past Mikey, bumping his shoulder, but he doesn’t move. He’s in shock. All he can do is stare, not at the ball, but at the stands. His tunnel vision shifts from the game to the crowd. His heart begins to race as he struggles to hold back his emotions. His cold face turns to boiling red. He runs off the field straight into the bleachers. His eyes are glued to his dad. A group of men surround Mikey’s dad, cheering, celebrating, and patting him on the back, as they shower him with money. “You lied to me!” Mikey exclaims with tears falling from his face.

“What? Of course not, son,” says his dad. “You’d have to be an absolute fool to believe that!”

“What’s on the paper, Dad?”

“Mikey, I can explain.”

He snatches the paper and reads, ‘Eagles: 1. Sharks: 0.’

“What do you want me to do? We’re struggling!”

“You could at least bet on *me*.”