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by Jonathan Hill
Originally published by on 12/02/2013

The atmosphere was tense as the player dribbled the ball up the pitch. He avoided the opposing players with deceptive ease and began to slow when the goalkeeper's face came into focus. Left or right? Or dead centre? After a pause, where each millisecond seemed like a full second, the player opted for the bottom left of the goal.

"Goal!" Dad shouted, as he smoothed down a crease on his side of the table-top pitch. "Come on, lad, it'll be fun!"

"No thanks," the son muttered while pummelling his controller to drive a hundred bullets through his enemy's heart.

Jonathan Hill Merits

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