My name is Ball. Yes! I hear you, a four-letter word. I have been used and abused in many ways I can assure you. I've been around for centuries now and yes things have changed considerably. The good thing, I travel far and wide and give enormous pleasure around the world.
I come in all colours, shapes and sizes even with signatures and more. I earn millions of pounds for others but for some more trouble than it's worth.
My pleasures in life are the small children and animals, OK! I get dropped and kicked around a lot, but who cares, not me. Their tiny angelic hands don't always catch me. Some times they kick some times miss. On occasions they even kiss and stroke me. The kittens also are gentle, they just like to roll me around and mouth a little. Dogs however, have gnashers like crocodile teeth.
Now for the biggie, the big kids that is. They kick with the force of thunder. They also enjoy me being confiscated or worse, having me killed off altogether. I smash windows in houses, cars and shops even causing physical injury to my players and opponents.
This is the game of all games. The boys in coloured shirts with numbers on their backs. The dimensional football pitch. The fight for one's life. O The injuries I cause through their stupidity? The whistle blow and red card shown. A penalty kick taken. A roar from the crowd the lions in the den, eating their prey. The dreaded studded football boots. A shattering effect.
Then there is the Holy Grail, the goal post. A goal I could score or land myself smack into the humming crowd. The chants and jeers from within the crowd. Their hands keep me from the pitch. Now, my career is at an end. A new ball appears and I'm out of the game.