Child Souvenirs: Between Sports and Fear (Humor)

I was born in Northern Morocco in a small town called Nador.

A few years later, my parents moved to the capital city of Rabat. There, I never missed a national/international football match, as the stadium was in front of my house.

From the balcony in the evenings, I was alerted by the dazzling lights coming from the stadium if there was a match going on or not.

I admit that I never brought uneasiness to my parents. I was obedient enough; when they said no, it meant no. I never persisted that much.

I used to spend my days between playing football or hide-and-seek, running, or kicking and fighting with my friends.

I simply confess, though, that the night began to cause me much displeasure. I used to be very frightened when the sunset broke out.

This is my story of how that fear developed.

Sometimes during the summer nights, I heard the boys planning to play a game, which it was impossible for me (being so young) to take part in, at midnight like "ghosts," as mum used to say. They did this because our parents’ rules didn’t allow it.

When the little “ghosts” were playing, I heard all the match details as if I were listening to a live radio match. It made me sad and angry.

One night, I started to think about it seriously and carefully. Bingo! A brilliant idea came across my mind that lacked nothing but putting it in practice.

Late one night, when I heard my parents snoring, I jumped from my window silently like a “ninja” to come down in the garden. Once the first stage was cleared, there was another hurdle left—a big high wall that had two or three holes.

Spider-Man time was coming. This was easy climbing for me. However, the jump to the other side of the street always left me with a feeling as if every bone in my body was shaking heavily.

I disliked what I was doing with all my heart and soul, but accepted it, as there was no other way to join the team.

Once the game was over, I tried to make the same jumps to get back to bed. Thoroughly exhausted, the Spider-Man-like strength deserted me.

Then one day that secretly and extremely happy summer, my dad proposed to drive us to the countryside. A sheer mountain of rocks with gorgeous and exotic landscapes. There were only three or four houses; one belonged to my grandparents and the rest to some neighbours.

What made that place exceptionally great was the variety of animals, both domestic and wild. In addition, the silence and the feeling of freedom were just unique.

Here we go!

We used to play Rodeo with horses and donkeys. I almost died once, while playing cowboys with my siblings. I fell from the back of the wild, freaky horse and stayed paralyzed for nearly half an hour on the ground. Thank God, no bones were broken.

Sometimes, we just left the animals in peace and start playing football matches. Only family members—even my dad used to play.

There was something disturbing, though: No one was allowed to kick the ball too hard; otherwise, it would roll down to the other village and they would keep it for the kids as a gift fallen from heaven.

To tell the truth, we enjoyed playing all kind of sports so much and I, personally, never cared much about watching TV or movies.

Until the day I heard about one of the most terrifying movies. It was called The Exorcist.

My fear of the dark was about to begin...

Back in the city, after hearing about the scary movie while we had vacationed in the country, I became determined to see it, in spite of being an 11-year-old.

I got the movie; it was late at night, my brother and sisters asked me (as I was the youngest):

"Are you sure you want to see this?"

I proudly answered: "I am a strong sportsman and I fear nothing." I played football, I ran the countryside, I rode the horses; why should I fear anything?

They said (while eyeing each other maliciously): "OK, no problem!"

He-he! I convinced them to let me join the show. But did I know what was awaiting me?

The Exorcist almost literally scared me to death, so bad I couldn't breathe. My sisters were weeping in fear. I wished I could run out, but was too frightened to even move.

Nothing had ever done that to me before, and I'd never seen how a film could affect people like that. I was amazed, I was in awe, and I was convinced that Satan was waiting under my bed...

My dad watched it once and described it as "dead funny".

To me it was "funny my a**!"

I spent sleepless weeks because of this Hollywood piece of s*** horror story!

Even today, only to thinking about it freaks me out.

"May the Power of Christ compel you!"

I still love sports just as much as I did 20 years ago, but I hate the damned Exorcist movie that scares me equally today, even as a married man!

You're currently logged into Facebook

Do you want to share your Bleacher Report activity on Facebook?