The Fateful Challenge of Pride

“Vinte!”

Sophie stepped forward, her eyes focused. She was giddy with excitement, her entire body tingling with adrenaline. Her hands were sweaty as she gripped her knife, ready to throw. Her team had been training for months and now they were just one step away from winning the World Cup and saving their country.

“Quarenta e cinco!” yelled the judge, a handsome man in his mid-forties. His head was wrapped in a black bandana and he wore a white tank top that showed off his muscular arms.

The opposing team stood in front of Sophie, their arms crossed and their expressions confident. They were wearing bright green jerseys that identified them as the Green Machine.

The judge turned to look at his assistant and raised his eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Eighty two, your honor,” replied the beautiful brunette woman who was holding up her tablet. She was wearing a dark red dress that swished around her knees every time she took a step.

The judge sighed as he looked back at Sophie, who was glaring at him in anticipation. He smiled and then shouted out: “Treinta y dos!”

Sophie quickly looked down at the knife in her hand and then back up at the target that was eighty-two meters away, more than three times her height. The target itself was shaped like a giant star and made of brown paper. A bullseye made of thick black lines sat squarely in its center, surrounded by alternating red and white rings of varying widths that represented different scores from one to ten points. To earn ten points a player needed to land their knife precisely inside the bullseye; to earn one point it could be anywhere on the target other than outside the innermost ring; any hit outside of this area would result in no points being awarded at all.

The moment of truth had arrived; it was time for Sophie to prove herself. Ever since she had joined this soccer club three years ago she had worked tirelessly towards this end goal: win or lose she would still be proud of herself because she knew that they would need every point they could earn if they wanted to stand a chance against the Green Machine. But now she wasn't just playing for herself; she was playing for her country - for Brazil - and all those whose lives depended on them getting past this hurdle. So she stood up straight, threw back her shoulders, took a deep breath and then raced towards the target with all her might, raising her knife high above her head as she ran...

* * *

Sophie's eyes fluttered open as she awoke from her dream upon hearing distant shouting from outside of her window: “Yes! Yes! We won! We won!” The sound of jubilation echoed through the neighborhood as people flooded into the streets to celebrate their team's victory over Argentina in what has been called "the greatest World Cup final ever played."