Fight to the Death

I've met lots of great lads over the years playing football. They taught me via football, how to be a better person. Some lessons stayed with me, others I ditched, and others I am not even aware existed.

Something recently that reminded stirred anger within myself, anger at myself.

Personally I didn't know LT very well. But he's a born fighter. He had amazing techinque, and also a sense of mind to beat others.

Before he got injured, he was the complete player. Fast, skillful, calm, he could win matches by himself. And he had determination.

After all these years, all the battering on his limbs, he had to call it quits too.

Yet, he put on a jersey when we were down and out. He took so much to score and equalise while I conceded goals to repay that. He stuck his foot in where it hurt while I was scared to make a sliding tackle.

Last weekend I saw how the opponents ganged on him and gave him another crushing tackle. Thank goodness he did not get injured, but, I didn't go in and show them my studs.

I am so fucking pissed off and embarrassed with myself. I had lost it, the single quality that made me a great defender then.

I'm afraid to die now, when I wasn't in the past.

Too much of a camper. Too much of a wimp. I used to think people who go all out without consequences were idiots. Now I learnt to admire them.

I do have planning skills.

Now I need to fight to the end, fight to the death.

Fight to the end to get in the sky!

Fight to the end to find my happiness!

Fight to lift people around me up!

There's no point having a life if you don't fight to the death.

So do you wanna be my friend?