The beanpole wore lightweight Capris, Puma shoes with socks, a red futbol jersey, a blue beanie, and he carried a yellow Size 5 under his right arm. He walked down my street this morning at 6:30am. I have never seen him up close, so it’d be too tough to guess his age. He’s in his 20‘s somewhere. No Ipod. No sunglasses.
I knew where he was going, but I was so damn curious how he was going to get there. Not the easy answer to how, but really and truly how. His final stop would surely be midway between Zicatela and La Punta. He covertly plops himself down well off the shoreline, camouflaged where the ivy & tall grass meet the sand.
Would he jog there? Run? Carry the ball or not? What was he thinking about? Who the hell is this guy? What’s he building in there? What’s he building? I know exactly what he does once he gets there. I’ve seen his performances for several years, but I am just dying to know what it is that is driving those performances.
About a week ago, I saw him juggling the yellow Size 5 with the bottoms of his feet. The fucking bottoms. Straight up. Guy was laying on his back near the ivy and the tall grass. Beanie, Capris, the whole nine, and he was juggling his soccer ball with the bottoms of his feet. All alone. No sunglasses. No Ipod. Holy Sh*t.