On the amateur league fields, they are as plentiful as sand on the beach: the talent that should have played at a higher level, the striker who only knows his own half from stories, the showman who regularly tries out the latest PlayStation tricks, and the repurposed player who sees himself as the pivot but has been placed in defense by the coach and has been often sad since. The sidelines are just as exciting: coaches on edge, who, with a cigarette in their mouth, are tearing into their players, clumsy assistants armed with ice spray treating scrapes down to the deepest layers of skin, white-haired referees whose movement is limited to the center circle, and sprightly retirees who claim that everything was better in the past. They and many others are part of the wonderful cosmos of amateur football, making it so special.