Happy 2009

I sat down to watch the soccer game, but what I ended up watching was the soccer ball. I saw it in full relief, with every acceleration, every shift in angular momentum, every hard stop precisely articulated. No feet, no sweat, no passing. Just a black-and-white sphere thrashing about chaotically in its wakefulness.

I stood up silently when it was clear the game had ended, and with the players, I shuffled out through the main gate. Except I wasn't with them. I wasn't shaking hands or saying hello to anybody. We just happened to occupy the same space. I started to walk downhill, but then so did they, so the farce of togetherness trailed on a while longer. Nobody could tell. It was night. The only light was from the soccer field. As we walked away from it, we cast tall, gently bobbing shadows that criss-crossed each other on the pavement ahead of us. This, too, transfixed me. I recognized a friend behind me by his lanky amble — everything came in so clearly. I felt the way I do when I stare at somebody's reflection in a window because it's easier not to get caught eye-to-eye. It felt like cheating. But I liked this view better anyway; it seemed truer. Nobody can lie about their shadows.