In the childhood I played soccer. I joined a soccer club before I went to school. My first books were about Pele and Garrincha. Soccer (hockey at winter time) was my life! I was considered as a smart kid. School was easy for me, and I was especially good at math and physics. What I am trying to say is that probably I had a head on my shoulders. Also, I was passionate and ambigious guy. Besides, I could ran like Tom Hanks aka Forrest Gump, non-stop. It appeared that I had a good intuition as well. I was a midfielder and a playmaker and had the number 10 on my shirt (like Pele, of course!). I could often score just because happened to appear at the right place. I was quite skilled, but there was one big drawback - I was short and skinny. I gained my height only when I was 16, and before that I was much smaller than my age mates. For that reason I would often play off the bench.

I was 11 or 12 when a new guy Lekha joined our team. He played in our club's volleyball team, and our coach saw him when we were at summer sport camp and enticed him away. Lekha was tall and he could jump really well, as if he had springs in his legs. Besides, he ran like a buffalo - making huge springy steps he would gallop away from his chasers. When he hit the ball with his foot, it would fly like out of cannon. Lekha became a pearl in our team.

One day we played with the leader in the conference. Our rivals were really good, by far better than any other team. We were betting on counterattacks in a hope for our superkid Lekha. I should mention that we played on the master's full-size field, which was kinda huge for us, kids. We were under strong pressure pushed towards our goal. Lekha drifted alone in the center circle surrounded by two or three defensmen. He wasn't getting the ball. I entered in the second half. I was supposed to volley the ball over defenders to let Lekha ran away. The coach hoped that smart and skilled kid like I would find the way to feed Lekha with the ball. I did understand it. After snitching the ball near our box I lunched it straight ahead to Lekha who was trying to break away. I was kicking the ball as hard as I could, but time after time it would just hit defensmen's backs and heads. Defensmen followed Lekha with all their might and like a buffalo herd they all were runnig away from me like crazy. I tried it again and again with no sucess. I simply couldn't kick it hard enough. I was too weak, and the field was too long, and the guys were too far away. So, I tried something else. I would run with the ball firstand fire it before getting catched from behind, but this time the ball was getting an easy target for their goalkeeper, because we were already near his box. It didn't work. I couldn't close the gap before it was too late. We had the last option left. When I was getting the ball, Lekha would start running away and then reverse and make few steps toward me to receive the ball at his feet. After that he was all alone facing few defensmen. At least he was getting the ball this time and could try to do his best, what he actually did. He didn't score, as far as I can recall. I failed. We lost. But I remembered that game for life, probably because I felt so ashamed...

Schevchenko didn't receive a pass for a breakaway. Not because national Ukrainian soccer team players are small and weak, but because they are kind of feeble or something. Sheva wasn't coming back for the ball neither.He just sticked all alone at the center field surrounded by Spanish defensmen. Ukrainians actually played short-handed, first one player down and later two, after excentric referee threw away one of them for quite innocent attempt to pull trunks off the Spanish forward coming one on one with Ukrainian goalkeeper. Say no to streptease! The whole thing looked quite ridiculous... Anyway, Sheva could just seet on the bench and no one would see the difference.