Men ran all over the pitch like ants in hot weather, pursuing the ball, taking it at their feet, losing it to an opponent. Two drifted towards each other as a mist had partially hidden the area near the centre line where the ball had been in play last.

Frank glimpsed the shadow of the other man near him.

“Otto! I had no idea you were playing for Cvicenius! I thought—”

“No,” replied the other, “I'm playing for myself now. I found that there was no path for a true player within the team. I could go no further. Of course, the team is not to be rejected; rather it is something to be worked through and overcome.”

“That's odd. I mean, teamwork was one of our strong points. A good passing game can make up for a lot of weaknesses.”

“True, Frank, but do you see what you have just said? 'Make up for' doesn't sound like a completely positive thing, does it?”

“No, I suppose not, Otto.”

“And you agree that a weakness is something to be overcome, as we said?”

“Yes.”

“Then it must follow a lot of weaknesses are to be discarded, not, surely, mitigated. And that's why my game has improved. Then I was third-rate at my best. Now I am a star, though with no team. I score goals for myself. No team wins because of me, but neither do they lose. I alone win, for myself, and for the game in its purest form.”

And soon Frank lost sight of his old teammate. Goal!