Rude awakening for sports conscience

It was the deafening noise, as it seemed to transform the entire room into a battlefield, and people began to run up and down as if lost, totally lost and in another world. I looked around and tried to get by bearings, but the most I could do in the chaos was to distinguish the exit area. Now don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t see the sign, but the rush of sports people pushing and shoving in one area, was as good a mark as one could want. Although it could have been the collection point for the handover of uniforms and other packages to the officials attending the Olympic Games. It was then that the thought ran through my mind, and I was suddenly filled with apprehension. I had lost her in the crowd. My mind began to click, as I thought of all the options open to her surrounded by unknown faces.

I wondered, would she cry out?  Then I dismissed that thought as fast as it had come with the realisation that amid all this crescendo of ecstatic shouts and sporting louts disguised as officials, a meek cry by her would be drowned. Even as I virtually clawed my way past the mass gatherings for freeness, it seemed as if the crowd was growing. “Were they trying to surround me? Was I being cut-off from all civilisations?” Self-doubt crept in, as I thought yet again, that this was a virtual hopeless cause. I looked up to the heavens, but the dark grey patch of covering overhead seemed to block off the sky. I continued on, aware of the virtue of patience and of faith, but slowly losing credence in both, given the behaviour of the public who forget as easily as Trinidad and Tobago footballers play with pride. I wondered again, how had I lost her, where I had gone wrong. I thought of the sports shop, but I didn’t go in and I remember her being next to me all the time, through observing her reflection on the shop’s glass windows still had so much to say.

Thoughts of responsibility racked my mind, for I knew everyone would still claim I was irresponsible in allowing her to disappear, after all yours truly Dancing Brave had a major part to play. I would probably never be allowed out alone with her, but then again I thought, could they really stop me? I immediately forgot all this, for during this thought process, my travels had taken me to a fountain and I could see a lot of people around the fountain. I wondered if she was among that lot and as I searched through the mass of people all I could notice apart from the fact, that I knew she was not there, was that all of these people who I knew from their performances in sport wore blank expressions. They all appeared to be operating purely on automatic pilot like so many leaders. Anyway I thought, for the moment I had more important matters on my mind. I felt an impulse to shout suddenly and being so frustrated I shouted out her name.

Suddenly I felt everyone’s attention drawn to me, who were formerly only interested in securing the best for themselves and their family and friends and ignorant of the better good for Trinidad and Tobago. I nervously looked downwards and continued on. I thought of our contact and all our communications in the past and the many times. I had treated her poorly. I wondered if she knew how much I really felt for wherefore it seemed to me then, that I had never properly told her. Why? I asked myself was I thinking in the past tense. She was not in the past, but in the present and hopefully in the future. Now more than ever, I was determined to find her. As I walked, my back seemed to burn from those piercing eyes of the cricket and amateur boxing board administrators that I continually left behind me. I saw the flight of stairs above and began to walk towards them only to realise as I drew closer, that it was an escalator.

Foolish me I thought, in this modern and changing times. I had never liked escalators. I had always thought they were for modern man, a quick way out rather than the possible long and tiring if not more satisfying climb up the stairs. As I came up the escalator, I seemed to jump forward, almost crashing into this lady (well she was wearing a netball skirt). I apologised but got no reply. I watched her for a few moments, only to realise that while her body was here, her mind was somewhere else. She was not alone however; the mass of people around me appeared all transfixed in the same daze. I wondered, but then no more, I thought of my mission ahead. I had to find her before the crowd crushed her. I saw a door ahead, it was ajar, and suddenly I was filled with anxiety. I ran towards the door and slowly swung it open, hearing the hinges creaking signifying that this door had been shut for a long time. But alas, no, she was not there. I turned my head dropping, and almost fell over her. Here she was so sweet, gentle and innocent, nearly lost among this bizarre crowd which with a few more numbers could represent the world.

Here was sports conscience finally where it should be in the backpocket of Dancing Brave. She had tried to find others for companionship, but there was just none out there, it was a totally self-centered crowd. As I raised my head, I saw a flight of stairs; cobwebs were beginning to over-run it. I moved away from the escalator and began to walk down the stairs. Suddenly the place seemed to stand still, for so long the escalator had been the one means of transport, and here I was breaking the norm using the spider’s home (staircase). First one, then two, then more and then all of a sudden a whole team of people began to literally run down the stairs. No more were their faces drawn and sullen but instead cheerful and full of joyous expression. They knew then, possibly as they had never known before, that there was hope and possibilities in their sporting lives irrespective of what persons say. With co-operation they could all succeed as the Trinidad and Tobago sports conscience. For ther best in website management and change management check cornelis-associates.com.