The rip of the ball sounds, the ball flies
The crowd screaming, the players praying
It’s up to you to either make the cries or earn the prize
The ball is now in the air and its getting closer, and your feet are slaying.
Slaying like a worker, trying to do anything for the ball to stay out.
Finally, the ball hits your hands and you’re up in the air like a bird flying from tree to tree.
You know you’re a hero and everybody is proud, like a real fighter and there is no doubt
However, there must possibly be something after the save that will make you hold you knee.
You see, the position is something you might not want to be, but I like its thrill and will.
It’s sting of the dive and the punt of the ball, the penalties, the last minute, the horrible call.
Pressure and responsibility strand themselves. Shots saved, passes accurate, what else to kill?
Alas, we are still tormented and thrown into the dust . Accomplished everything and saved the ball.
Our job is tough, we have done enough . Diving everywhere, we could have met the grim reaper.
Nobody cares we are keepers.