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Being a secret agent means one has to be ready for everything, everything is a battle, and even more so, every battle is unfair.
That's right, no part of the secret agent job is fair, not when a team of five-twelve would raid a company with nothing less that three hundred armed men, nor when one person is forced to partake on a mission alone when the army or police or other *'on the book*' law enforcement agencies would have a full squad with the least twelve people for the mission. The most unfair part of the job though, is the fact that you can't claim credit for what you've done. 
Indeed all the glory goes to someone else while you with the sores, bruises and near death experience gets a pat on the back, three days rest and off to your next world saving mission.

Yes, the life of a secret agent is one of the shorter straw, a life of unfairness.
So in that aspect he should be used to it, and of course not be thrown off his game by it. 
Yet Secret Agent Leonel Casper couldn't help the surge of heat that rose to his face as he saw the cheating number six dive to the floor again, calling for a free kick.
"Common!!" He shouted to the ref from the stands as he stood by his verdict.
"If you wanted to be diving maybe you should have signed up for swimming!" He screamed at the number 6, a lean defender who had touched the grass probably more than the ball.

He looked at his watch, seventy mins gone and the score was still tied, one goal a piece. The two teams were looking for that break to get a second goal in and seal the match. 
He favored of course, the Yellow Daggers as his son was the lead striker and number 9 in the team.
Casper looked at the boy who watched the free kick from the side of the wall, two defenders of the opposing team, The Blue Aces, were marking him, with or without the ball. 
Their logic was clear to see, stop the ball from reaching his legs, with all means possible.
So far, the tactic has been impressive, with the attacking power all but neutralized the Blue Aces had quickly taken the lead with a beautiful shot.
The Yellow Daggers didn't give up though, and after scoring a handball penalty, managed to get their goal which kept them in the game at the sixtieth minute.
Since then, the game has been a series of passes, fouls and fake dives in the midfield, majority of the the later two being from the Blue Aces, and yet not one of them had a card, not even a yellow one.

"It's clear the referee has been bought." Another spectator said by his side. He looked at the man, who was also a parent with his ward in the Yellow Daggers, information after a nasty brush had swept him off the ball and onto his back.
Unsurprisingly, the referee has just given the offender *'a strict warning'* and carried on with play.
The coach was livid and abused the referee colorfully, the referee wasted no time in showing him a red, making him walk out and console the injured boy.
The assistant coach took over the boy, all hope already lost, regardless the parent's weren't having it and began abusing the referee too, the lead parent being this one by his side who just came back from checking on his son.

"That's a foul, you nincompoop!!" The man went on again, Leonel stayed quiet looking at the drama unfolding on the field.
"What's your whistle for!" "Blow the damned thing!" He went on again.
"Why aren't you talking?" The man asked, now looking at Leonel.
"Me?" Leonel asked him back.
"Yes, that's your lad, isn't it?" He gestured at the boy who was on the floor.
"Yes it is." Leonel said confidently, still observing him.
"His name is John." Leonel added.
"Why aren't you shouting then, that is a foul, a nasty one at that, aren't you worried about him." He asked Leonel.
"It is a foul, no doubt about that, that in itself can't be forged because the VAR caught it well. Plus, such a tackle won't be able to wound my John." He said with a sense of pride. 
The crowd cheered as John stood up, dusted himself and carried on the field for the awarded free kick.
"Truly an impressive lad." The man said to Leonel.

Leonel smiled again, and looked at John's eyes and face, the joy was unmistakable.
Such a high strung match when the odds were stacked against him gave his adrenaline a huge spike and his excitement at the cliff. 
Leonel knew that he inherited such from him and hoped he would be able to use that adrenaline to his advantage.
To the Yellow Daggers credit, no matter how much they were fouled and cheated on, they didn't do the same, exhibiting a display of sportsmanship that would be honored and appreciated well over in the big adult leagues.
It was a free kick, quite a nice distance but a dangerous angle and to everyone's astonishment, John wanted to take it.
He wasn't the one who usually took free kicks, but he had been training at home for it.
The regular free kick taker, a tall lad with a devilish swerve to his kick argued a bit, but with no luck to his own kicks, he saw nothing wrong with him giving it a try.
The assistant coach allowed it too, at this point praying for a miracle.
Leonel understood the reasoning, since he couldn't get a decent shot because of the defenders encircling him, a free kick gives him all the space to aim and shoot.
Yet, it looked grim. They were riding on extra time and this was the last win they needed to win the league.
It was clear, **he had to score.**

The whole stadium was quiet in anticipation.
The wall was in place, the other players constantly scrambling in and around the box, in constant search for where the ball might be crossed to.
Leopold instead looked at John's eyes and saw the greed in there. This was a shot for goal.
John took some spaces backward, then rushed at the ball and kicked it.
It was a bullet.
No swerve, no chip nor turn, a straight kick throughout the legs of one of the boys in the wall and in the left bottom corner of the post.
Nobody saw it coming, everybody was stunned, nothing could be changed now that the ball was in the net.
A moment later there was a deafening roar from the crowd, a rushing cheer from the team as players and non-players rushed for a body pile on the already bruised John. 
Even the coach who had already been sent off came back in.

There was still one minute remaining, but it was clear who was the victor.
As the game ended, the celebration was even more fierce than when the final goal was scored.
That final minute, the Blue Aces pulled out all the stops in fouling and cheating, the game changed from soccer to American Football as some players intentionally left the ball and bodied the players.
Their efforts were in vain though as the Yellow Daggers held their ground valiantly.
Battered and bruised, they held the trophy with a joyful smile, their soccer was beautiful, the last goal was glorious and the sportsmanship was heavenly.
Leonel Casper could not have been more honored to have witnessed such a match.

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