It’s hard being a goalkeeper in
England and after his latest calamity it looks all over for Arrizabalaga at Chelsea
So there you were, laid out on the grass, a long way from home. And as
Liverpool celebrated their second goal, their whoops and cheers burned your ears, and as your teammates solemnly turned their backs, their silence did the same. And the grass felt cold beneath you, but you were grateful for it all the same. Because without it, you felt like you would never stop falling.
And you thought about the hills around Ondarroa, the little Basque fishing village where you grew up, and those hot summer days when you would climb the tall beech trees trying to catch goldfinches. Occasionally you would lose your grip, feel the awful scrape of your foot down the bark and just fall, and as you fell you would remember the words of your father: if the fall doesn’t hurt, then you didn’t climb high enough.