Keep on dreaming...

You wait for a whole week. When the time comes, your heart starts beating a little faster. It is a combination of excitement, anxiety and stress. You get dressed, of course wearing your lucky pants, lucky shirt, lucky shoes. You avoid wearing your watch because last time you had it on, things didn’t go as planned, so it is now considered bad luck.

You get in your car and start driving. It is a 30 minute drive but on the way you have to make two stops to pick up the compatriots. On the way there, there is a little bit of excitement, smile, jokes in the car. You arrive and you leave the car at the closest possible spot. You take out your card, show it on the entrance and you enter the stadium.

You look around you. The people you used to see 7-8 years ago are still there. Others have more white hair, others have less hair, others have wrinkles. The fellow long-haired fan that you were once eating peanuts with on a game back in 1999 is still there. His hair is longer but he is becoming a victim of time too. Some others that used to be there, are not there any more. Call it disappointment, call it aging, call it anger. They have chosen not to.

You sit on your chair and start discussing with the people around you. They know you. They don’t know your name, but they know your face and they know you are a regular. The first appearance of the team in the stadium fills your heart with pride. An unexplainable feeling of pleasure and delight invades your body. With your loudest voice, you support the team.

The game starts. You forget everything. You get paralyzed on your seat but at the same time, you also get carried away by the crowd and everything is to blame. During half time, your team is not doing very well but you still have the strength to applause the players. The 15 minute interval gives you some time to reconsider things, rediscover your lost chances. The appearance of the team in the field brings back the emotions of the first appearance. Pride, delight, pleasure.
The game is over. Once again all you see around you is the same people, speechless, with sad emotions covering their face. Some others choose the road of yelling to the players. Everybody though looks older. But not 90 minutes older..much older than that.

The ride back in the car is speechless, emotionless. No mood for jokes, no smiley faces. You drop the compatriots at their house and you set the date for next week. Same routine, same thing, same feelings. Only everybody gets older…

This is what happens every week when Salamina plays…