The goal posts stood with the impartiality of any referee, their purpose to record the victories whichever way it travelled.
In that world of green that became more earthen as the season matured, the goal posts were as two white towers perfectly planted in that pitch.
Come dayshine or withered storm, the goal posts stood upon the grass awaiting their moment to bestow glory.
The goal posts stood sentry at either end of the perfect pitch, that manicured grass begging for the first cleats to rain upon it.
Keep track of your favorite writers on Descriptionari
We won't spam your account. Set your permissions during sign up or at any time afterward.