The Big Disappointment

He was just about 15 years of age and a very typical, sports minded teenager.
He played in goal for his Minor League Bantam soccer team.
He was a good 'keeper'.
Not flashy, but steady. For him there was no need to be flashy, and the diving saves he made only when they became necessary.
Otherwise, he had an instinct for the game and was able to read how the play would develop. Therefore he was usually in the right position and could intercept the shot without the need for the 'picturesque' dive, which the non-cognoscenti associate with 'great goal keeping'.
Throughout this season his goal-against average was 0.8 per game, which made him one of the best keepers in the League. It helped, of course, that he had a very good defense.

When the "Ontario Soccer Association" was in the process of forming an "All-Star" team,
( I preferred to call it a "Select Team"), the coaches, charged with this task,  scouted the Province for the 18 best players, which would then compete against 8 of the other Provinces. (New Foundland had declined to field a team)
The soccer-grape-vine, which is one of the most reliable news sources, had it, that he was the most likely 'keeper' to be selected for the starting line-up, and what's more, this same s.g.v. also told me that two of the Select coaches would visit our next League game incognito to observe him and to make the final decision. Although it was said that this visit was, more or less, a formality, since the decision to invite him into the Select team had already been made.
Of course I kept this a strict secret, since the knowledge of this visit and its purpose would tend to make any player nervous. And, as everybody knows, a  nervous keeper is usually not at his best.

The game started and, as I had suspected, his team was quite superior to the opposition, so that he could show only rarely how good he really was.
At the beginning of the second half, the opposing left wing striker, who had very good ball control, came down his side and placed a perfect high pass just to the half right position, for one of the centre strikers. In goal, he read this move perfectly and, moving slightly to his left, was, therefore, easily able to intercept the high ball before it reached the opposing striker.
I could see the Select coaches nodding to each other in approval and one of them came over to my side and told me "the big secret". They would invite him to the Select team and that he would, there was no doubt in his mind, make the starting line-up for certain.
I feigned total surprise and assured the Select Coach that this was a perfect choice.
The game went on, and I believe the score was 2:0 for our team, when this same left wing striker came down his side of the pitch, but this time he placed a very shallow pass, inches above the ground into the middle, where an unguarded centre striker loomed.
The keeper recognized the danger and made an easy, flat dive and cradled the ball on the ground.

Danger averted, game well in hand.

For the longest time he did not get up, but just lay on the ground, the ball under his body and his right arm at an odd angle from his body.
Fearing an injury, and the referee having waved me on, I ran onto the field and bent over our keeper.
I could see the pain on his face. "I can't move my right arm.. it hurts like hell," he moaned.

In the nearby hospital they diagnosed not only a broken collar bone, but, unbeknown to the doctor, they also diagnosed the end of a dream.

That was many years ago, but

Bertstravels

still remembers it well.