We arrived at the football field near a mosque that was very close to my house. The only situation I was worried about was that my father decided to pray at the mosque and not at home. We weren't praying, we were playing, which would make my father angry. I warmed up as I looked at the car parked outside the mosque, hoping my father wouldn't be here. The football caught my attention and I was fully focused, so I forgot about my father. We let the opposing team start, because losers start. As soon as the whistle blew, I heard a very familiar car engine and the headlights of a car flashed in my eyes. I turned around and saw my father's car. My heart was racing so fast that I panicked and screamed at my father.

 

“I knew you would be here to play with your stupid friends.”

 

He went away to pray. I was so afraid of going home and being scolded by my father. I had no motivation to play anymore because the scenario of my father catching me was scary because he was a ball of rage. The game was over , we shook each other's hands and told the other team that we were happy,

 

“Don't worry, you'll do better next time.”

 

When I walked into the house with trembling legs, I didn't see my parents and ran back to my room. As I walked up the stairs, my father's hand appeared in front of me and my legs stopped accelerating. Seeing his face looking down at me was one of the scariest moments of my childhood. He was angry because I had snuck out to play football without his permission.

 

His face changed from a monster to a loving human being as he handed me a pair of Nike football shoes. I jumped up with excitement and hugged my dad so he could see that I was happy, because just a minute ago he and I were not on good terms. I really showed him that I was motivated to become a football player because the opportunities he gave me were not there when he was a teenager. So I would say that my father was the prince who never had the chance to be king.