THE MATCH WASN’T OVER
The second half started badly.
For most of it, neither team managed to score.
Every missed opportunity brought a groan from the crowd.
Grandpa refused to give up.
“There’s still time.”
I smiled.
He had said those words my entire life.
When I was a child and complained about losing a school competition, he said it.
When my first relationship ended, he said it.
When Grandma died, I remembered him saying it again.
There’s still time.
Never stop believing until the final whistle.
Then the opposition scored.
The stadium fell silent for a moment.
Grandpa slowly lowered his scarf.
Brandon looked at him.
“Still time?”
Grandpa nodded.
“Always.”
The clock continued ticking.
Ten minutes.
Five minutes.
Three minutes.
Then, with only two minutes remaining, our team finally equalized.
The stadium exploded.
Grandpa jumped halfway out of his seat.
I grabbed his arm.
“Careful!”
He laughed.
“I’ve waited ninety-two years for this!”
