Descriptive Essay Football

My last two seasons of football, we went a combined 2-16 from a record standpoint. The seniors and I have put in so much work. We all came in at 6 in the morning during the summer just so we wouldn’t go through another losing season. We knew we were a better team than we were my junior year, and yet we still couldn’t win games. We did so many things right; for example, we led the state in rushing for teams that didn’t make the playoff. All of these thoughts were going through my head while I was bawling in my car after losing yet another game in which we held the lead twice in the last few minutes. The next morning I woke up and thought when is all this hard work going to pay off like I was told.

Last night I made the drive to Union Local high school to watch my first game, that featured Wier, West Virginia and the Union Local Jets. The stadium was very nice, with the only complaint being three bucks to park.

I began my pregame warmups, while the butterflies in my stomach started to go away. In a couple of minutes the referee blew the whistle that could be heard all over the whole city of Amarillo and the game began. Complete thoughts rose through my head over the fact that all of the things I have done with my teammates this whole offseason was for this exact moment to show what we can do as a team. Every single drip of sweat that I made during the harsh hill claiming runs, weight room exercise, and every drill that was worked on has come to this exact moment. I didn’t do all these hard workouts just to get into a postseason game, I did every struggle exercise for the better of myself and also to make my parents proud.

All I could see through my big glasses were droplets of rain. I breathe in the crisp fall air, and begin to strap on these old, beaten up white leather gloves. As I strap on those beaten up gloves, I carefully remove the strap from the velcro and tighten the strap against my wrists. While I adjust the tightness of my gloves, I soak in the football stadium lights like it’s the warm rays of the sun. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, and I finish putting on my gloves. I close my eyes breathe in, and put my hands in its beginning position to conduct. My hands are parallel to the ground, and on the same plane as my sternum. My body is cold from the chilly fall weather, but my hands are sweating from excitement, nervousness, and the heat that’s trapped in these gloves. Before this competition, I take one last breath in, and look at these gloves. These gloves used to be white, shiny, creaseless, and lifeless. I notice each creavis, each crease, and each scratch on this gloves, before the competition. After, two seasons of constantly wearing these white leather gloves, they slowly became gray, dull, and full of life.

I observed that she is from a Spanish speaking country, living in the rural area. She was a tom-boy who loves to take care of bulls. The first time she saw a picture of a bullfighter, she became interested in the sport. She started the sport at a young age and when all the men in her family failed at their attempt she didn’t fail. She was dedicated in becoming a professional matador in which she did. Before she enters the bull ring she practice her routine, dressing in her jump shot of fine patterns and dazzling decorations. In the ring, she uses a red flag to distract the bull in order to kill it. The way she moves in the ring reveals her love for the sport.

When he walks into the arena, he instantly feels the thrill. The sport he loves to follow brings many feelings and sensations throughout his body. He scans his ticket at the gate and enters the lobby. He can smell beer and hot dogs, the classic rink food that is a staple in every concession stand. With a chill bubbly beverage in his left hand and the steamy, tinfoil wrapped hot dog in the other he makes his way to his seat. Sitting in his designated spot, he watches the players slice through the ice. His jeans protect him from the gelid metal bench, but the chill still slightly seeps through. The lights go out and spotlights flicker off the glassy ice while catching glimpses of the players who are waiting for the starting lineup. A powerful

“I don't care too much what happened in the past. I prefer to focus on what is coming next and I am really looking forward to it. “A quote by Sebastian Vettel would explain this moment of my life pretty accurately. It was an easygoing Saturday afternoon, bright and humid as always and I knew we had to play with a mindset that we are going to win this game because in three tries to defeat this team, we couldn’t get it done. For the fourth game, arguably the biggest game of our whole season, we received news that nobody wanted to hear. One of our best players had torn a ligament in his knee. All that week, I made constant visits to my school’s basketball court to make sure I was healthy enough for this game so my team wouldn’t be damaged anymore

Liam Craig dashes after a white frisbee as it darts through the air. He leaps and catches the disc while simultaneously crossing the goal line into the end zone. On the evening of April 23, 2017, the Northfield Church Frisbee Group joined together on the Spring Creek Soccer Complex for a spirited first outdoor game of the year. Soggy soccer fields and bare feet made an entertaining combination as people slid and fell multiple times during the game.

On the right corner of my desk sits a standard size aging football its leather stamped with a pebble-grain texture. With its rich leather smell still intact invoking fond memories. The footballs dark brown surface perfectly blends in with the wooden desk. The deflated ball shaped itself like a used bean chair. The football laces that were once smooth to the touch are now worn feeling coarse and uneasy to travel. One side of the football is glossy white that emits a light shine when viewed from an angle. This white glassy surface merges with the rough leather creating a deep dark trench. The delicate stitching remains overlapping the two surfaces bringing a kind of unison to the smooth and rough textures. On its surface, there are names and

With 1:03 left the Hornets got a 14-yard from Sites, who broke a tackle on his way to the gain.

When I was a child, I started to love soccer and all I wanted to do was playing it. I loved soccer like girls love woman accessory such as lipstick, cream. I played every match with my passion and I took that as a joy, an important part in my life. However, there was a match which I would remember for the rest of my life. It happened 9 months ago but it feels as if it was yesterday.

GD: Well coach, it’s still really early in the season, but your team had a good showing at both the Lodi Flame Invitational and the Jaguar Invite. What are your thoughts about the first two events of the season?

While it may not be a recognizable stadium like US Bank Stadium, Clemens Stadium at Saint John’s University holds a lot of meaning to me. While I have never played a game on that turf, I have spent many Saturdays cheering on the Johnnies, playing catch with my cousins and uncles, and helping out on the sidelines with the Chain Gang crew. These long days in the sun, rain, and snow are some of the most memorable of my life. Clemens Stadium means more than football to me. I have learned about perseverance and not giving up when things seem impossible.

Beep, Beep, Beep the sound of my alarm clock wakes me up and I get my helmet strapped, click click and get loaded into the car. Time seems to be going slow and the music in the car seems to be going faster. I am awake and suited and booted. The car pulls up to the football fields, and I feel intimidated. When the whole team got there, we began to practice plays and I was the starter on defense. I knew I had to step it up because I was always the smallest player on the field. The teams are lining up for the coin toss we get to have the ball first we run a wham counter our biggest wingback gets the ball for a five-yard carry. The sidelines are screaming my team is getting smacked silly and is in pain. and they snap the ball and get sacked for a three-yard loss the crowd gets louder and louder as the screaming goes on. We lose another five yards, and then we have to switch sides because our time limit is up.

As I put my black and gold jersey on, I thought of the outcome of tonight's game. Either the Penguins come out as champions, or they are forced to game 7. I walked downstairs to put my shoes on, and I saw my brother with his black and teal jersey on. We headed to the car. My mom was already annoyed by how much my brother and I were fighting over who would win the intense game. Finally, after a couple of minutes, we journeyed to the big game. After a long ride, we finally entered the streets of Pittsburgh. We sensed the excitement and tense atmosphere of the city. Everybody crawled the streets getting ready for the big game. When waited in line, it seemed like the whole city tried to rush in. The line took about 45 minutes, but it seemed like hours. Finally, as we went through security, we were dogs released from a cage. From the time we found our seats until the beginning of the game, more and more people filled the massive arena. Many people filled the seats up like sardines. When everybody arrived to my favorite place, we all waited for 8 o'clock, the start of the game.