Played soccer in Baltimore for a long time in 50's through the 70's, and still remain a fan of the game.  When I played, the season was in the winter, and watching the women win the gold in the Olympics brought this old piece back from the deep recesses of my memory.

THE GOALIE

By Fred Ruark

8/8/1974

Standing tip toe in the cold soggy mud

Squinting against the icy rain

Trying to follow what’s going on

At the far end of the pitch

Icicles form on the net at your back

Your fingertips freezing inside your big gloves

A solitary warrior in a rectangular frame

Part of the team ….. but lonely, alone

You play the same game but abide different rules

You can’t wear the colors that get the fans cheering

With the game in front of you

You’re the defensive boss

You’re the rear guard, the last ditch defender

When all others fail, you’re on stage

Decide – Hold your line or charge the ball?

Decide and act – To hesitate is to fail

The goat or the hero with no stops between

Your defenders split and a striker breaks through

He’s onside, you tense to repel the attack

Don’t move too soon, but don’t wait

The rain in your face sets your eyeballs on fire

The ball looks the same as the mud

It’s come down to this one on one – sudden death

You meet the attack with attack off your line

You make yourself big to reduce the shot’s angles

The outside of his left boot strikes the ball hard

The ball curls left just touching your hand

Not enough … you hear the ice in your net shatter like glass

The attacker takes off in a high victory leap

Team mates pull him down and pile on.

Your team mates, dejected, retreat from the pitch

You lie there alone in the mud