leonardo's+work+for+by+the+time...

By the time John got to the football field, the soccer match is almost over. //My team had lost the match, and it's all my fault//, John thought, regretting. John is the star player, the goal striker. He is the one who brings lots of goals, making the team win through champion leagues. But today, he fell asleep, just 30 minutes before the match, and didn't have enough time to reach the soccer field. As the whistle sounded, John slumped over. The team had really lost. His teammates jogged into the locker room, surprised to find John there. They all slapped him and assured him that it's okay and that it wasn't his fault. John was grateful to them, but he felt afraid when the coach ushered him into the office. "John. You know that this match is important. Why didn't you come!?" The coach thundered. He was angry. "I'm sorry...I-I fell asleep," John mumbled. "Well, ya know what? You can sleep at the bleachers for as long as you want. Cause you're not allowed to play for the rest of the league's matches!" The coach bellowed. John paled. He started to protest, but the coach was already making his way out the door. John's face crumpled in distress. He held his head in his hands and cursed himself.

John's eyes were red with tears when he walked back to the empty locker room. The wet, dirty towels were hung over the rack, and empty can of sodas lay on the tiled floor. His teammates had gone home. His cell suddenly beeped. A text message came in, from Hans, one of John's best friends on the team. //Heard about the bad news. Coach shouldn't have done that. You wanna replace my position? -Hans// John typed back, //No, it's okay. Thanks anyway.// He sat down on the metallic bench and hunched over. At long last, John decided to go home. His skin was pale and his throat was sore by the time he left the locker room.