He despises talking about sports.
No matter where this topic is raised, he immediately becomes uninterested. I’ve always been curious why he doesn’t argue or doesn’t even try to prove his point of view. To tell the truth, I’ve never heard from him any comment on games, but I know for sure he detests sports as an object of discussion. Therefore, while I was sitting in the car and seeing his calm disposition of spirit, I decided to start a conversation.
‘Have you ever gone to the Olympic stadium?’, I started with a question that separates me from the core, much like my present work separates me from a decent salary.
‘I don’t call to mind,’ he answered without a hesitation.
‘It would be nice to go somehow. It is said the atmosphere during sport games is magnificient,’ I continued modestly.
I hardly imagine what, besides sharing the food, can make him lose his temper, so it was interesting to watch over his reaction. And if we had not gone though rough times so often, I think he would just change the subject. But the truth could not be avoided now.
‘You chose a wrong topic for conversation,’ he snapped a bit annoyed.
‘Plain topic. I do not force you to discuss maniacs, type of nuclear weapon, religion, or Crusades.’
Then we sat silently. This meant he was gathering the courage and I felt sorry for him. But curiosity prevailed over me, so I shared this silence with him without a thought of turning back.
‘Basketball. 9 years of training. A bad game. Career ending,’ he said in a hushed voice.
‘Injury?’, I asked, opening my eyes wider in abruptness and confusion at the same time.
‘Kind of. ’
But I did not give up. ‘9 years are an impressive stretch of life, and I have never heard anything common between you and sports. What secret made you stay silent?’
‘I scored a foot. To be more precisely it was a hand,’ he corrected himself quickly.
This lie forced me to yell ‘Stop the car’, and if I were younger, I would open the door on the run and I would be no longer alive because of flashing truck nearby.
‘Calm down, Lil. This is the track and all I can do right now is running into the sunflowers on the field.’
‘Then I’ll wait to the roadside,’ I answered sharply and for the next five minutes I sat, frowning and pursing my lips, waiting to hear a story which would break my heart.
‘I going crazy as these fields will never end,’ I complained seeing him being over the limit.
He abruptly turns left and brakes.
‘It had happened 2 years before we met. Competition was held overseas, and our team passed qualification with difficulty. The opposing team was much stronger, so it was necessary to play hard,’ he said, as if he didn’t forget a single minute of that incident .
‘Hey, you shouldn't hide the fact that it torments you for so long,’ I replied without understanding what the essence is.
‘It was the fourth quarter, and we understood that we were going home with nothing, but unexpectedly I got the ball. A distance of 15 meters separated me from the basket and I swore to myself that I would not let the ball go. I wish I had immediately thrown this ball away or had left the playing court,’ he declared with fury. ’But the opponent decided to sneak up behind and intercept the ball. I was going to pass the ball to my partner .Turning around that way my elbow toughly touched his temple,’ he pronounced crying.
The continuation of the story was too heartbreaking to be told clearly. The ambulance, the police, interrogations in a foreign country, psychiatric hospitals haunted my best friend after a fatal hit. One thing was clear without explanation - he became an unintentional cause of the person’s death.
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