Picture this;

It's the FA Cup final. You're stood on your goal line, exactly in the middle of your goalposts. There's less than three minutes of the game left, and you're team is attacking. "You'll be fine, don't freak out. You're 2-1 ahead, you'll win this for sure," You think, "We've done so well to get here, we won't blow it."

You're striker takes a shot. It bounces on the crossbar... and into the keepers hands. Within seconds, he's ran out with the ball, booted it down the pitch. You take a quick glance at the clock, just over two minutes. "You'll be fine" you reassure yourself one last time. The striker belts it, it deflects of your defender and floats into your hands. You're on the ground, lying on top of the ball, it clutched it your arms. You breathe out a sigh of relief and you calm yourself down. Yet when you get up, the ball still tight in your grip, you realise there's something wrong. A mixture of players from your team and the opposing team are gathered around the referee. He blows his whistle and you're players curse and moan. Lots of your sweaty players pull the top of their shirt over there heads, distraught.

You go over to the referee, the ball on your hip, your arm leaning over it.

"What's going on?" You ask.

"Handball," The ref claims. "Penalty."

Penalty. Penalty? Penalty? PENALTY!

You begin to panic and head to your goal line. You crouch down a bit, hunching your back. You stretch out your arms and stick your tongue out, the way you've seen goallies do millions of times.

"I'm not a proper keeper," You tell yourself, "I can't do this. I'm a sub!"

The penalty taker stands on the spot, the ball a few feet in front. The clock is down to a minute. You can't ruin this chance, you know you can't.

The whistle is blown. You're not ready! The ball is smashed to the bottom right corner. You dive for it quickly., desperately. You stretch out your arms as much as you can.

The crowd roars. There's cheering, whistling, clapping, screaming, shouting. You've lost your chance to prove yourself as a sub. You've ruined it. You look up and the clock and see the times run out. You lie on the floor, head in your hands.

Then something unusual happens. Team-mates come up and pat you on the back. Their being sympathetic, you think. They all dog-pile on you and cheer and clap. Thats when you realise, the balls in your hands. It's just there, actually in your hands. You're clinging to it desperately.

You look up and see the dejected players. You feel a pang of guilt...

BUT THEN YOU REMEMBER YOU'VE JUST SAVED A FRICKING PENALTY AND SAVED YOUR TEAM SO YOU DON'T EVEN CARE!