I have it all. Two FIFA World Cup trophies, several EPL championship titles, and countless MVP awards. I have three houses in New York, London, and Paris. A whole garage full of shining red expensive vintage cars is mine, along with the most beautiful and kind girlfriend a guy could dream of. Surely there's nothing left I could want. But there is. And I'm now ninety minutes away from getting it. An Olympic gold medal.


The referee blows his whistle, signaling for the game to begin. Dusk has just settled in over the stadium, and there are thousands of cameras flashing, a perfect combination of stars and fireworks lighting up the night sky. Suddenly the ball appears at my feet and I take off down the field. Dribble, dribble, pass to an open teammate. The ball is shot- just over the goal. As the goalie prepares for the goal kick, my eyes scan the stands for where my mom and little sister are sitting, close to the field, right at the center line. I smile. Only the best for them.


The rest of the half blurs by. Running, passing, dribbling, shooting, defending. The teams are very evenly matched and both sides have yet to score a goal. I am playing left outside midfielder, so I have run a lot and am very tired. During the halftime break, our coach praises us for not letting the other team score, but tells us that we need "to connect more as an offensive team in order to succeed in scoring a goal." Same talk as usual. We run back out onto the field, pumped up and excited to play, score, and win. Forty-five minutes to go.


Ten minutes in and not much has happened. Then, our best chance yet. One of my teammates is tripped just outside the penalty box, and we are given a free kick. The whistle is blown, and my team sprints toward the goal as the player kicks it. The ball comes right in front of my face, and I dive forward headfirst. The ball connects with my head and sails into the back corner of the net. The crowd goes wild as I get tackled by my teammates. I am filled with every positive emotion- happiness, excitement, appreciation for my team. I can't believe how far I've come- just a boy from Chicago who loves soccer, here, playing (and scoring!) in the biggest soccer game of the year. Insane. But, the game is not over yet.


After the goal, my team works hard together to keep the lead, and we have many more goal opportunities. I am working so hard and having so much fun that I don't realize that the game is almost over until I hear the announcer: "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!" All of our fans in the stands cheer and high five each other. My teammates run over to me and lift me up on their shoulders. I want to live in this moment forever. . . Chugga, chugga, chugga. . .

. . .Chugga, chugga, choo, choo. . .

. . . Chugga, chugga. . . The loud train racing across the track above me wakes me up from my dream. Brr. Chicago winters sure are cold, especially here outside with nothing but some old blankets and newspaper to keep me warm and dry. I turn over onto my side slowly so as not to wake my mom and sister who are snuggled together next to me, happy smiles on their faces, dreaming over their own hopeful future. A house with a beautiful garden for my mom, a Prince Charming for my sister, an Olympic gold medal for me. It is fun to think about it, even though it never will happen, as I can't even afford soccer cleats, let alone the training and coaching that I would need to get good enough to compete at such a high level. Oh, well. A kid can dream.