我打小就喜欢向着阳光奔跑,任黑白斑点消失在绿茵场。在我未及杆高的时候,每个艳阳天,母亲都微笑着把足球抛给我,砸到我的脑袋,即使不疼我也会象征性地哭。后来,能把它停在我身前,看它静静地变乖,便是我最大的快乐。能看懂电视的时候,我知道它的名字叫足球,它的飞动会引发人们的尖叫,会牵动父亲的心。那散了学的时光,就是孩子们的珍宝。向着斜阳,捧着球,再 I play like a small run toward the sun, any black and white spots disappear in the pitch. When I did not reach the pole, every sunny day, my mother smiled and threw the soccer ball at me and crushed my head, crying symbolically if not hurt. Later, to stop it in front of me, to see it quietly behave, is my greatest happiness. When I can understand TV, I know its name is football. Its flying will cause people to scream and affect my father’s heart. That time has gone from school, is the treasure of children. Toward the sun, holding the ball, and then