Flash Fiction entry - 500 word limit story using the words, Mug, Happiness, Converter

Wilson has slipped his man and is free, he’s made his way to the by-line and sent the cross in; it’s behind Mays but he’s managed to get a foot to it & it’s in!!!!!!!!!!

He’s won it, he’s won the cup for tiny Crew, the fairy-tale has continued and there’s the final whistle. Well, you wouldn’t believe it with the last kick of the game the man the Crewe faithful have nicknamed the converter has lived up to his billing; the only chance he had all game and he’s won them the F.A. Cup with the last touch of the ball.

The tea had gone cold, but Sam didn’t mind.

The bell chimed as the door opened and another customer made their way into the café to get out of the cold. He kept his head down just in case; to be sure that they didn’t recognize him.

Everyone dreams of being the hero, living the life of a rich and famous sportsman or rock star but no-one tells you how to cope when it all goes wrong he thought.

What do you do when you peak at 21?

Be careful what you wish for as you just might get it; truer words had never been spoken.

When he was a child kicking the ball around the allotment he’d dreamed of scoring the winner at Wembley and lifting the cup; it was the happiest day of his life and looking back on it now; the worst.

He’d had one magical season where it had all fallen in place for him; the fans loved him; he’d become a cult hero.

If they hadn’t had that cup run he would’ve stayed at Crewe and learnt his trade, maybe a move to a bigger club when he was older, wiser, more experienced. Instead off the back of his winner the big boys came in for him & he couldn’t resist.

He’d spent two seasons riding the bench at Chelsea; then when he got his chance in his first game in the Premier League he had his leg broken in three places.

He was never the same after that and his career was over.

Washed up at 25!

He’d drifted aimlessly from town to town existing on the remains of his earnings, not sure where he was going until this morning he’d found himself back in Crewe the scene of his triumphs, which seemed so long ago.

Perhaps it was fate; this was where he’d made it once, maybe it was time to see if he could make it again.

He looked at his watch, it was time.

The bell chimed and he looked up as the club manager made his way into the Café….