The Beautiful Game

The beginning is a cacophony of noise: the water roars like a stadium of raging fans as it boils, the coffee beans - the players - first rustle as they’re transferred from the safety of a bag to the destruction of the grinders, where they ache as they’re grinded to coarse bits on the field.  The team prepares for the game, tying tight shoelaces and mapping out strategies of attack.  Then, like a lone instrument in the second movement, the aroma takes center stage, captivating all with its seeping smells and intangible energy.  

The water hushes, the crowd rapt in attention for the final minutes of the game.  Every team plays the next few moments differently.  Some have the flair of artistry, making it look easy and nonchalant; others have rigid discipline and move like clockwork.  They say a magician never reveals his secrets and many take that to heart, letting the magic of the coffee’s creation remain hidden in a solid mug as they put the final points on the board. Some, however, display the magic on their sleeves with clear glass, preferring to display the inner beauty of the game. No matter the style of play, though, all take in the energy of the crowd, letting the water cascade onto the field, soaking the players with a light drizzle followed by a downpour.

The game is over.  The players are forever changed by the simple act of participation.  The crowd rushes the field, celebrating with the players regardless of who won or lost, as it was a beautiful game and the score doesn’t seem to matter any longer.  All walk home renewed and alive, taking with them forever the energy of what they witnessed.