First Step on Turf

My arms were locked pointing straight up into the night air. Then a spark ran right down to my boots. I blinked, tested my grip, and curled my fingers down from the sky. With a quick tap, my left cleat pressed into the soft green turf beneath me. The blades bent, real and springy. I gave a slight flex at both knees, balanced, and settled right back into place on the patch, ready to play.