A New Course

I slipped past the front gate early, eager for open ground after days of indoor drills. Down the concrete sidewalk, the morning air was crisp against my jersey. Near the wooden telephone pole by the corner, I spotted a small, dried pine bark chip lying flat on the pavement. I drew my smooth white marble from my pocket and placed it beside the curb. Testing the rough grain of the pavement under my cleats, I stepped back two paces, lined up my stance, and flicked the marble with a low instep strike. It skimmed across the concrete, looped cleanly around the base of the pole, and clipped the bark chip with a dull tick. I sprinted ahead and trapped the marble with my left sole.