I was 15, and I played for a local soccer team of about 20-30 guys. By that time, I had played soccer for eight years, and I was quite capable, if I have to say so myself. My position on the team was middle defence, and I was the fast one. About that time, I ran the 60m discipline in or around 7,3s four times in a row, and I was the fastest in my circuit, and in the top 100 in my part of the country. My partner in defence was a big guy who faced the strikers, and if they passed him, which they often did, I ran after them and ... dealt with the situation. Was never a good free kicker, and I didn't score much, but I always got a foot on the ball, and I could make some decent passes. Anyway, the year you turn 16, you go on the junior team, and that's the year you're allowed to compete commercially in Norway. ...so.. All the teams meet in "the big city", Moss, and then there are try outs, where the agents go to find new talent. ...so we go there, I was one of three from my team, and we do some excercises, like showing off ball control, how precise our passes are and we do some doggy runs, which are running a short distance back and forth and touching the ground when we turn. Then there's the match. For some reason, I was placed mid field, which I never played, but the sun was shining, I was geared up, and good to go. The other team got to take the kick off, and what do you know? The flute went off, the guy passed it backwards, I bolted, and the guy who made the second touch in the match did a keeper's kick off straight in my Jelly Beans, and that was it. Career over.
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