Beep beep, beep beep, rang my alarm. It’s 6: 30 am. I got up and went straight to the
bathroom. While freshening up with a splash of water, I looked at the mirror and took a deep
breath. “Today is the day, the selection for the football tournament. My efforts will surely pay
off and help me to reach the top five position.” I prayed. Before darting out of the door and to
the school, I took a quick look at the new Jordans I bought, hoping its turn will be coming
soon.
After reaching the school, it seemed the waiting period would never end. I kept tapping my
pencil on the table, looking at the clock, thinking how many many hours more. Just ten
minutes before 2:30, when I went down, all dressed up in the practice jersey, I heard the
coach calling my name. I sprinted my way down the stairs, all the way to the court and
started to form a line along with the others. Finally, it was time to call out the names of the
players.
“Safeer!,” called out sir. He looked at me all excited and jumped his way forward. “Amir,
Rozan, Kareem,” called out sir, and yet to call my name. Just like that, the top five were
chosen. I calmed myself and believed I will be chosen for the remaining spots. “Faizan,
Sajid, Rashid,” sir exclaimed. And just like that, the remaining spots were filled. I stood
behind the chosen ones. Sir looked me at the back and said, “Work harder next time, you’ll
be chosen.”
Being crestfallen, I went home, looking all down.“You weren’t even chosen this time?” my
brother remarked mockingly. I did not reply. Laying down on my bed, I simply prayed to God
to help me to be chosen for the tournament next time.
A month later, again a vibrant possibility of achieving my goal lurked in. Today was the day
for the selection of another tournament, bigger than before. Maybe I will be selected this
time. I have not skipped a single practice the past month. But when the coach called out the
names of the chosen ones, unfortunately, again I was not one of them. The coach repeated
the same saying encouraging me to continue my efforts with much more dedication.
Needless to say, being rejected twice was enough to break my spirit. Still, I tried to keep my
hopes high thinking that my day will surely come in the next tournament.
Two months later it was finally the day, the time for another selection of a football
tournament. “The arduous toil that I have endured past two months, will certainly get me
through.” I thought. The coach called out the names, and again, I was not one of them. I
stood at the back, looking at the players practising and laughing with the joy of being
chosen. All disheartened, coming back home, I slammed the door, threw my bag hard at the
wall and screamed in my head with my eyes shedding copious tears.
Practice started again two days after the match. I skipped. The next day, I skipped as well
and again the day after. As it turned out, skipping practices became a habit. I thought, why to
work so hard for something which you are never going to achieve. Every morning when I
woke up, I used to look down at the new shoes I bought for playing and say, “Guess what,
you are good for nothing.”

Every day, after school, I used to see others playing and thought that they are doing just fine
without me. I tried other sports but failed miserably. Maybe it is not just my shoes that are
good for nothing, it is also me. I tried my best to smile when in front of others. so that nobody
could know the bitterness camouflaged under it. Soon I started to avoid others, especially
the ones who used to go to practice with me, I did not want them to know why I stopped
showing up. Then they might think I am a loser, even though I am much of it.
My grades started to deteriorate unsatisfactorily. I even stopped studying thinking that it is
useless for a failure like me, I am going to fail anyway, so why work hard? A few of my close
friends suspected my strange behaviour. They kept asking me, “Is everything okay.” “Ah
everything is fine, you don’t have to worry,” I replied. I try telling myself everything is fine,
everything WILL be fine, but is it? Will it?