The summer sunshine, the smell of new soil and bright summer evenings were a combination that always gave the children in the garden a boost. In the courtyard, a dark green grass strip was the scene of the most exciting tournaments every summer. It wasn't exactly Anfield, but it was flat and soft enough to make the games happen. Caps as goalposts, buttons on your feet and a little gel in your hair. The pristine surface of the new football was still glistening in the sun when the first kick of the summer was kicked.
That night, the games went on for a long time. Home time had already been exceeded and my knees were green from the hard twisting, but it didn't matter much. After all, there was still no solution. The scorching heat had already turned to the reddish glow of the evening sun, the sweat blurred the eyes of every player, but the game was just rippling from side to side.
That's when the left wing striker with the quick hands got the ball. He'd been in the mood today - everyone had noticed - and now he was going down again. There was plenty of space, only the goalkeeper in front of him and the role of the evening's decisive player was up for grabs.
The bet took off really quickly. And terribly fast.
It was as if the whole courtyard had been destroyed. Shards of glass flew onto the asphalt and the sound of the crash echoed through the walls of the properties for an oddly long time. There was a clatter and a clatter, followed by a moment of deep silence. The ball had crashed through the downstairs neighbour's kitchen window, shattering the entire screen into a thousand fragments.
In such a moment, the first person you usually think of is the caretaker. Now someone remembered that he was on his summer holiday today. Next, possible escape routes are considered, but these too proved futile when a neighbour appeared behind a broken window frame.
The children could have heard a lesson about what time it is, what time it is quiet in the building and how silly it is to play football under other people's windows. They could also have gained valuable insight into how difficult it can be to get a glass doorman at this time of day. This time there were no such reprimands. The neighbour simply lifted the phone to his ear and made a short call.
On that late summer evening, 24 Center received a pretty classic snapshot. A soccer ball had hit a window screen, causing the ball to be on the kitchen floor and the window to be gone. After a short and succinct phone call, 24 Center's on-call staff passed the assignment on to a glass installer. The van turned into the courtyard, new window glass was installed and the ball was returned to its owner.
The next day the games were allowed to continue. However, there was one condition: the decisive bet must not be made with such a bad outside spin.
