If these shoes could tell a story, what amazing tales they would tell. All the places and people and emotions of which they have been a part. They would surely recall the first day of insecurity and doubt. Were those feet adequate to make the cut? Did they have what it takes? Nervous heartbeats pulsing through the soles. Of course they would remenisce of friends like brothers, praying together, battling together, winning and losing together. A coach who always believed in him and pulled the best from him. I have a feeling they would speak of the splashes of sweat from shear exhaustion, drops of tears from victories and defeats, precious blood stains and excrutiating pain from injuries that came from giving everything you have. They would remind us of the clay and the sand and the mud and rain and even snow, of all the places they had stepped, wearing out a little more each day. I think if these shoes could tell a story, they would undoubtedly boast of the pride they felt to be used by someone who gave his all, never gave up, loved deeply and fought fiercely, regardless of the outcome. They would remind us of the fancy steps and well placed chips, of the rocket shots and picturesque passes. The miles run, the spills taken, the tough, frustrating times sitting injured on the bench. They would make us laugh with stories of crazy shanks, pretty corners and lucky toe-pokes. I am sure they would recall the play-by-play recaps on the drive home after each match, and the silent ride when it was all said and done.
Oh, the stories we would hear and the pictures that would be painted in the recesses of our hearts and minds...if these shoes could tell a story.
