The Forgotten Man

The defender finally struck it. The ball was heavy with rain, its flight lower than expected. Mason, with his back to goal, cushioned it on his chest. The opposing center back crashed into him from behind, a knee driving near the old injury. Pain flashed through his bones like electricity. He stumbled, but he did not fall. With the outside of his right foot, he nudged the ball one way while his body feinted the other. The defender opened half a step. Only half a step. Mason turned. Twenty-four yards out. Rainy night. Flickering lights. Boos everywhere. He did not take another touch. His right foot ripped through the bottom half of the ball.