The Wall: A CYOE* Post

By: Sean | February 2nd, 2009

* “Choose Your Own Ending”

Do you remember the “Choose Your Own Adventure” set of books from the early to mid-Eighties? If you are pushing forty years old, there is a good chance you do. These were a series of books for primarily elementary school age readers that would let you read the story–usually a fantasy theme, involving searching for Atlantis or fighting aliens or discovering a hidden treasure–to a certain point before requiring you make a decision about the plot line. At that point, you were directed to turn to a certain page and continue the story, with the adventure following your choices. Any single book thus had twenty or thirty possible stories and made for some entertaining adolescent literature. Some endings let you discover Atlantis or find the treasure while some, well, led to a hideous death. I loved those books but since I’m too lazy to research the copyright specifics of a football-themed “Choose Your Own Adventure” post, I’ve opted to cleverly rename it a “Choose Your Own Ending” post and thus make it totally legit. That being said, please enjoy this first installment of the Weekend Warrior CYOE: “The Wall”…but be sure to reopen the entry after each ending so I can quadruple my page views!

The match is nearing the final whistle and your opposite, a wiry midfielder, is really starting to piss you off. He has been throwing elbows, tugging on your shirt, and climbing over the top of you on headers all match long. Sure, he has some skills but he goes to ground pretty easy, too, and gets really fragile inside your box. You’ve lost count of the number of times he’s pleaded for a call from the referee. The old scoreboard at the far side of the pitch reads “1 -1″ and their equalizer was a tidy shot from your midfield nemesis, but you are in no mood to give him credit at the moment. He’s just received a diagonal through ball from his winger and after juking your holding midfielder he is heading straight for the box. Hero run, all the way. He wants to win it late. As your backs try to cut off his angles, you make a gasser of a run to catch him. Sure, he has skills, but you have jets and he never sees you coming. He pauses to stagger-step around your enforcer and that little delay allows you to close the distance. He shows just a little bit too much of the ball and you go to ground. Hard. A half-second before you crash into the ball he somehow flicks it sideways and you violently slide through his legs. He loses a boot and barrels into the box, screaming as though he had been shot. The referee is on the spot almost instantly, brandishing yellow.

The middie snarls an insult at you straight out of HBO’s “Deadwood.” You infer his sister has frequent relations for monetary gain and call him “Princess”. He gets in your face and you get ready to bring the pain before the official pulls you apart. “Knock it off! Direct kick just outside the box!” Reluctantly, you step off the ten yards before turning to face your keeper. He’s holding up three fingers. “THREE IN THE WALL! LEFT! MOVE IT!”

Middie is going to take the kick himself but you know he has no intent of putting it on frame. You can feel the target painted on your chest already. He may have the free kick, but you know you are going to pay. What do you do?

If you refuse to be a part of this wall, scroll down to Ending “A”.
If you stand in the wall but turn your back toward the shooter, scroll down to Ending “B”.
If you form up in the wall but charge the shooter just prior to his kick, scroll down to Ending “C”.
If you stand in the wall and face the shooter, yelling his sister was actually pretty freaky, scroll down to Ending “D”.

Ending “A”: Screw this, you think. I’m not going to give him a free shot at me. You step away from the two backs who were inching into position and look for a winger to mark up on, but just as you move, Princess sees the gap form in the wall and takes a quick left-footed shot. It catches your keeper completely off-guard and beats him near side. “What the hell?!” he roars as Princess rips off his shirt and races to his bench in ecstatic celebration. You lose 1-2 and next week, your manager “accidentally” tells you the match is at the wrong field. The End.

Ending “B”: Screw this, you think, forming up next to your enforcer. He can shoot at my ass! You turn away and lock arms, inching sideways to the left when Princess rolls out a snarky pass behind you. You never see it coming until their striker sweeps in from the outside, collects it just inside your box, and unleashes an uncontested bullet shot into the far corner. You stagger to get a foot out, but you’re too late and get tripped up on your enforcer. “What the hell?!” your keeper roars as Princess blows you a kiss before joining in the ecstatic celebration. You lose 1-2 and next week, your manager requires you to play left back all match. The End.

Ending “C”: Princess wants a free kick? Shoot at this! After your keeper fixes the wall, you wait until the shooter starts his approach and then surge forward. You cover about five yards before he hits it and the shot smacks off your chest. The ball is rebounding over his head and you think you might get a counter when the shrill blast of a whistle brings play to a stop. You turn to face the referee, who is brandishing yellow again…followed by red. Your jaw drops open in disbelief. “I’ve had enough of your conduct! You know he gets ten yards! You’re done!” The last thing you see as you sulk off the pitch is Princess giving you a beauty queen wave. Right about the time you get to your car, the opposition uses their numerical superiority to flood the box and dink one in off a corner. You lose 1-2 and have to miss the next match because of mandatory suspension. The End.

Ending “D”: You did the crime, you’ll do the time. You grab the two closest backs, one on each side, and plant yourself smack dab in the middle of the wall. Princess is sizing up the shot. “Stand tall, boys!” you roar as the kicker takes a four step run-up and unleashes quite possibly the hardest shot you have ever seen straight at you. In the split second as the ball covers the thirty feet, you realize that it won’t smash into your face. It’s lower, much lower. Suddenly the world erupts into blinding color and crippling pain and in that moment after you collapse onto the pitch but before unconsciousness sets in, you desperately wish you had remembered to wear your cup. You finish 1-1 but the romantic anniversary weekend you had planned with your significant other is postponed for a month until the swelling goes down and your doctor determines you can still procreate. The End.

But…but…where is the happy ending? You know, the one where I block the shot, run it back the other way and score on the last kick of the match? Nay, fair reader, there is no such happy ending this time. Soccer is a cruel mistress and sometimes with our game, you just don’t get to discover Atlantis.

The End…or is it? Not even I know yet!