I stretch, I prepare, and I breathe. Our brazen cry of battle resonates across the green plain, leading me to march toward my field of dreams. Poised before the ensuing but temporary conflict, I gaze at the endless sky, deep and calming. Then I observe the delicate green blades around my cleats, a marvelous, maintained expanse. I turn back towards the vast, azure ceiling, being pulled in by some unknown force from the cosmos. What are these colors? Are they the result of minute oscillations or of something more? Something I simply cannot perceive, like many other things. The piercing shriek of a nearby referee’s whistle breaks my observant trance. Only a couple of insignificant seconds had passed. What a waste; however, I reason that they must hold at least some meaning. Reality must continue, and I must fulfill my job as a midfielder. Interestingly enough, it is only during times like these where I can witness just how mesmerizingly blue the sky is.