By Chad Cervantes and Zac Faraon || Graphics by Ashkinaz Canonoy
With struggle in every breath and desperation in every step, they tried to make one final effort to retrieve the ball and hold out for a miracle of their own. As the opposing team dealt their final blow, the ball flew through the air, securing their win. It was as if for a moment in time, the world slowed down. All was lost. The team’s chance to place—gone in a blink. The entire field fell silent. Then, with a single shriek of a whistle, the spell was broken, snapping the team back into reality.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
The first bell echoed through the halls of the campus while packs of rapid footsteps rushed to their classrooms. Many of them carried two bags: one filled with notes, and the other with gear. Burdened by the crushing weight of academic responsibilities, they unpacked their belongings from one bag while mentally preparing themselves for the day ahead.
Period after period, they remained ever anxious for the sound that would signal their release. Then, it finally came, the familiar sound that promised freedom. With a single ring of a bell, they sprung to life while hurriedly sprinting to the field with their second bag in tow—sun shining and wind brushing through their hair.
The halls were eventually left empty and rooms fell silent – but the football field remained as lively as ever. The wind howled across the field, carrying the sound of the game, only interrupted by occasional shouts from the sidelines. Cleats dug into the grass as players ran across the field, kicking up dirt along the way.
They were merely a bunch of Pisay scholars, and yet, each one of them had a spark deep inside of them – a fierce desire to bring honor to their school while doing what they loved the most, a sport to rival all sports, football. That spark would then set fire to a blaze that would spread across the school engulfing its entirety in an interest unmatched. As each new person caught wind of this, other scholars sharing the same fiery passion were drawn in, each one lending their own flame to the ever-increasing firestorm. Without any elder to light their way in their journey, they realized the only way to soar above the clouds was to grow their own wings and teach themselves to fly. Together, they had formed a flock, one with shared dreams, unyielding determination, and most important, a united love for one thing, football. Every time they entered the pitch, they trained themselves to grow in both body, mind, and spirit – the field had finally become their home.
Two months of training with muddy cleats and torn jerseys passed by in a flash. Yet suddenly, the days of gung ho training and simple lessons came to a stop. An invitation to compete in the annual Bethel’s Cup presented itself to them—this was an opportunity they couldn’t afford to let slip away. The outside world was blissfully unaware as to who the team was yet, and so, they wouldn’t know what hit ‘em. With this, a flame of ambition ignited within them as their eyes were set on the prize—bringing home the gold and making a name for themselves on the field.
Stepping through the gates of the Bethel for the first time, anticipation filled their bodies from the feet to the very tops of their heads. This mixed with a hint of uneasiness, would etch the moment into their memories forever. Yet, match after match while facing formidable opponents and even greater odds, they pushed forward with grit and teamwork. Reaching the final hurdle, the final match, that would decide their shot at achieving glory.
As the captains shook hands, loud cheers filled the air, surging around them and fueling their excitement. They huddled up with arms embracing one another, reminded of how far they had come from the humble beginnings just a few months ago. They shouted their chant and jogged to their formations. It was time to lock in. One. Last. Time. As the referee blew his whistle, the match had begun with a rapid exchange of passes and steals. Shot after shot, clear after clear, and goal after goal went across the field, the crowd entranced in the hypnotic movement from side to side.
Time slowly ticked by as every move became crucial. Joined by the pounding of their hearts, the crowd’s cheers turned into a deafening roar. Each player pushed far past exhaustion, exerting themselves to their very limits and even further beyond, fueled by pure willpower and the dream that had carried them all this far, together.
With struggle in every breath and desperation in every step, they tried to make one final effort to retrieve the ball and hold out for a miracle of their own. As the clock ran down, a final surge forward from their opponents, a precise pass, and an unstoppable strike sealed their fate. The attempt to bridge the gap between victory and defeat became hopeless.
Prrrrt! Prrrrt! Prrrrt!
The final whistle was blown. Cheers erupted from the far side of the football field. However, on the other, the sound reminded them that their journey was far from over.
Despite having no place to stand on the podium, the team held their heads high. They had forged a lasting bond and experienced the thrill of competing with people they could now call friends, the bestest of friends in fact. The weeks they spent training, strategizing, and simply having fun with one another were moments that figures of wins or losses just couldn’t show.
With or without the prized medal to bring back home, football united them as a team, and more importantly, as a family, which came together out of nothing to form what they have now. This match ignited the torch that would light the road ahead, the beginning of the Falcons’ rise to their own namesake—one that would resonate beyond the field.
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