Football-Personal Narrative

Football is a game of passion, a time when nothing else matters and the only thing that matters is going out there having fun and fighting for the guy next to you. Football has always been something that I loved and had a wild passion for. I’ve made friendships and memories to last a life time and I can always be grateful that football did that for me. Now of course I’ve had some bad memories during football as well, I remember walking out of the film room on the last day of spring ball and having Coach Antle grab me and say “Gage, I think I want to try you at a new position, I want to put you at defensive end. We need you more there and we think you can really excel there.” I remember being so furious, I had played linebacker ever since I could remember and now the last day of spring ball my senior year everything was about to change.

We left Garberville, CA at 5 a.m. We knew it would be a long haul ahead of us. I slept on the floorboard of the back seat of Holly’s truck for the first couple of hours. Holly was a funny outgoing and straight to the point person. Along with us were my Mom and Dad, Dylan(Holly’s husband) and there two kids Ashley and Clayton. Dylan was a tall red head that is always the life of the party. Ashley was a short dirty blonde girl that loves her horses. And Clayton, clayton was just like his dad a big built red hair with blue eyes and super outgoing. Finally were my parents. My Mom and Dad we both very active outgoing people who got along great with Dylan and Holly and their kids so we knew it was going to be a fun week in Winnemucca. We

The chills creep up my spine, uncomfortably I notice every single person there was watching my every move. We were going head-to-head with the Vikings, they did very well at intimidating our team to death, but inside I knew we could try. They had some tall buffy people that didn't seem afraid that our dignity was high and on the line. We couldn't waste it here, right now. Next, a loud Screech the referee blew her whistle, and at that moment we knew it was time. We played as if it was the Olympics, even though it was just for fun.Then, the ball went all over the court back and forth meanwhile the crowd screaming, cheering, and excitedly saying, “Go Huskies!”

sports or how to play it and how they think wer are sensitive, overemotional, and useless plastic barbies that sit still, and look pretty all day. We all decided to play some sport. What sport? American football, not soccer.

Starts In the morning I step out of my car and it is pitch dark and eerie quiet, it's early morning the day after a tragic football game and everyone is tired and anticipating the meet ahead. We all sat babbling with each other and feeling comfortable. When I heard the push, hum of the school bus arriving up the drive. Everyone is ready just to get on the bus to sleep. When on the bus I can't get to sleep because I'm sharing my seat with a girl and the bus driver doesn't stop talking. We show up at the meet and i'm waiting for the tent to be put up so I can lay my bag down. My shoulder was aching and the grass was scratching my leg. During the warm up I was thrilled because two male teammates decided to run with us. They both smelled magnificent.

It all started when I got grounded.I was in my room all bored just thinking. I was thinking about some of my past actions. One of the major ones that was still clear in my mind was all the times I've hurt myself over my dumb ways or decisions. The freshest memory was when I first started to play football. I was interested in being a quarterback. But back then when I was 8 I had this dumb way off throwing one. It was like throwing a bowling ball into the air. But the feeling of the balls grip made me forget about how I used to throw it. But I did have this occasional feeling when I threw it. As if my arm muscle was being pulled. But I didn't mind for as long as I could throw far and high I didn't really care. But boi I should have listened to

My face and ears are bright red sweat dripping down my face. I see the ball come flying toward one of the players on the opposing team. I frantically run toward any one to try and block passes. I watch as our player scoops up the ball and runs down the field.

After five excruciating hours of intense training and drilling of each choreographed movement, I was debilitated and slept the entire way home. I crawled into bed, staying awake only long enough to set my alarm for practice the next morning. My mind was utterly immersed in dance; I ran the dances through me head constantly, imagining each muscle contraction that would be required to execute move flawlessly. As captain of the dance team, I was required to know every movement, every count, every formation by heart as soon as it was taught to the team, even if I was not part of that specific number. Jumping out of the bed, ready for five more grueling hours of practice, I suddenly collapsed on the floor, screaming from the pain shooting up my right leg. A few minutes passed and I was able to get up and hobble around. I then made the calamitous mistake of participating in another grueling five hours of dance practice, with only a light brace to support my agonizingly painful ankle. Fast forward through two weeks of a swollen ankle, crying in pain with any movement of my ankle, doctor prescribed ice and rest and x-rays, to the horrid moment when my doctor told me I had torn a ligament in my foot: an injury which has a history of being near impossible to fully heal from. I was told to be prepared that I may never run or dance again; I may even be extremely limited when walking. The weeks turned into months of physical therapy, with little to no improvement. Every doctor’s visit consisted of the same warning: probable surgery with little hope of extraneous activity after recovery. But I defied the odds: I completely avoided surgery, got my walking-boot off after twelve long weeks, and went for a mile walk nearly pain free within a year of my injury. But probably the most important milestone in my recovery occurred one year after my injury: I got my driver’s license. Although I still live with lingering pain in my ankle, I understand

I love badminton, but because of being limited by my living environment, I did not have any chance to really experience formal badminton playing and practice until I was a sophomore.

I do not remember much from when I was five years old, but I will never forget Saturday mornings playing soccer in the playground behind my elementary school in a small program run by parents in the neighborhood. My dad was not around much during the week due to a very time-consuming job, so the weekends he got to spend with me and my sister was very important to him. Allie, my sister who is two years older than me, is the one who got my family into soccer. My dad signed up to be a coach for her kinderkickers team and then to be a coach for her town team. I would play with my sister’s team as well as my own because my dad always brought me along to their practices and games. I liked playing goalie and defense and I was good; at least as good

I had always been told my entire life that I should play football. Always the biggest kid in all of my classes. People would ask me all the time what position I played, I had no idea what they were talking about and they were always surprised when I told them that I had never played football, and that I had never planned to. But the older, bigger, and stronger I got and the more encouragement I got, finally I decided to play my sophomore year of highschool. There was one game I will always remember that really kick started my love and passion for the game.

Football practice was surprisingly painless and quick. With the homecoming game around the corner, I assumed drills would have been nonstop. But they weren't. It seemed coach was becoming more lenient, perhaps because of the rain. I couldn’t imagine he liked being outside, shivering in this deluge any more than we did.

Since a young age I constantly struggled with being overweight and never felt comfortable in my own skin. It was only when I found my passion for playing football that I finally gained confidence and the courage to live a life outside of my shell. Growing up I was never social, keeping conversations with people to a bare minimum and only speaking to people when needed. Everything seemed to changed when I began playing football for my school’s team. I worked hard all summer and soon found a new home in Sylmar football, a home that gave me a place to grow and become stronger mentally and physically. I felt accomplished because I had lost weight and became a member of the team I had seen so many times before in middle school, wishing that one

My last year playing for the Vols taught me an appreciated lesson about not being prepared for an opportunity. The chance to play football professionally loomed over the horizon. From little league to the college level, footballers welcome the opportunity to play in the NFL. For many it is a dream of a lifetime that is reserved for a selected few. The percentage of high school and college seniors eventually going pro is less than 5 percent. Even if you had a solid career there is no guarantee that you will get the opportunity. Case in point, my football resume includes being a starter for two years with six career interceptions. I letter four years, a member of two championship teams; and played an instrumental role in the greatest comeback

We met daily at 6 A.M. for weights and speed training. Then it was quickly time to start two a days. All of our coaches knew it was going to be a great year and that we had a chance to win state. “We could take state this year guys!” said Head coach O’dwyer and the others. When he said that it sent tingles down my spine. Game time had arrived. We were scrimmaging against the Wray Eagles. We