“Party at my house after the game!” I told my teammates jokingly as we got in position for what would be our last game of the season. All my teammates laughed. I felt almost as if the championship was guaranteed and all we had to do was kick the ball around for 90 minutes before collecting the trophy. “Whoot” the whistle blew, signifying the beginning of the game.
Our team captains passed the ball off, and just like that the cheering began. Although it was only the CYO (Catholic Youth Organization) Youth Soccer Final, the turnout for the crowd was enormous. Everyone from our parents, relatives who lived nearby, teachers from our school, to random spectators looking for entertainment were watching the game. Fortunately for us, we were
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Despite having an average appearance, what made him stand out like a sore thumb during soccer games was the determination and focus in which he played soccer. Our second team captain was Christian Copeland. Christian was shorter, stockier and had tanner skin than Devin. Christian was our central attacking midfielder, he led the league with assists that season, and was known for his ingenious and composed plays. The day of the championships they seemed different. Devin who was very vocal before and during the game was quiet and pensive, and Christian who was usually very attentive and involved in the game, was lethargically moping up and down the pitch. For the first few minutes of the game we passed the ball around, patiently waiting for a defender on St. Johns to make a mistake and open up on defense, it was our game plan, we would tire the other team by making them chase the ball, and then strike when we saw the usual opening that an impatient defender would create. Devin passed the ball haphazardly to Harrison, one of my closest friends and a defender for our team, Harrison passed the ball to me and I passed the ball to Christian. Suddenly, for the first time in a long time, Christian made a mistake, he whiffed on the ball I had passed to him and clumsily stumbled to the ground. A member of the opposing team saw the opportunity and took a shot seventeen yards from the guard that just went …show more content…
The game was to be decided by penalty shootouts. Once again, the odds were in our favor, we had the best goalkeeper in the league. Despite having to shoot second we all remained confident that we would win. No goal was prevented for the first thirteen rounds of penalty kicks. In the fourteenth round of penalty kicks, the St. John’s striker quickly took the shot and missed. It was up to me to win the game. I set the ball on the ground, took three large steps back looked at the goal and took the shot with all the power I had in my right foot. I missed. My shot hit the top of the crossbar and bounced back to me. My heart sank, I had failed at my job to deliver for the team. We battled back and forth up to the twenty fourth round, when the player from St. Johns finally “made” his shot by protest because it had hit the crossbar gone in and gone out. All Devin needed to do was make his shot to win the game. Devin took the shot. He missed. It was over, our perfect season had come to an end. We had come so close but ultimately
On one fall morning, my mom and I arrived at the Hulmeville Soccer Tournament. There were so many teams that had great potential to win. My teammates and I Were excited to play theses teams and push our skills to the limit. Our soccer team won all five games that we played. Therefore we made it to the championship angist Hulmeville, one of the best teams in the tournament. The game started and there were no goals scored. Since it was the finals, we went
Ben shot a penalty kick with 4 minutes left in the game, giving NCSSM the lead 4-3. The student section went crazy, however South Alamacen then scored with 2:30 left in the game. Neither team scored after South Alamacen tied the game at 4, so the game ended in a tie, however the soccer team had a good performance. I appreciated how a majority of the NCSSM community was at the game to support its’ athletes, as the student section made up at least 40% of the school. Conversely, I disliked how everyone showed up late, but making an attempt to show up at all still shows good school spirit. At the game, I learned that NCSSM’s students are very talented in areas other than academics, in this case in athletics. I also learned that soccer games are the closest to football games here so many people attend the home games. I will attend similar events in the future, being sure to watch different sports, because I met a lot of new people and saw how talented my classmates were outside of the
The opposition scored the first goal and we were slightly disheartened. But then Joshua McNack from our team aided in the score of an own goal on the Culver’s team’s part, and our side of the field erupted in celebration. In the second half the Culver’s were determined to score more goals and shot many shots on target, but unfortunately for them none of them were successful, thanks to our amazing goalie Braxton. Although the game turned out to be a tie, it was a really close game and there were some very good goal shot attempts. After the game, we interviewed the scorer of our goals, Joshua McNack. We asked him what he felt like when he thought that he missed the goal, but ended up scoring, and he responded “I wasn’t satisfied, but i was glad
Our season was coming to a close, and we were all excited for our final game of the season; that is, until we found out that the coaches and parents of the opposing
The red curtains open to reveal a blinding bright spotlight and a packed arena. Getting to the National Championship an immense amount of preparation. We had two minutes in front of the judges. We put our hands in the middle of our circle. For the last time of the season, we chanted “LHS cheer!”, and then we were off. The crowd was silent with anticipation. The routine felt like second nature and we ended up doing well. We made it to finals and ultimately took fourth place in the nation. It the first time in five years that our team had placed. It was a long journey getting to this point.
My freshman year I made the Varsity soccer team. Every practice I had to strive and work harder to be able to keep up with the upperclassmen skill level and talent. I was finally getting to where I wanted with consistent practice. I became a starter and the upperclassmen would pass me the ball more and help me on the field when there were opponents on me. It wasn’t until the middle of the season when everything changed. We were playing against a school who was very skilled and talented. It was in the first half of the game when one of the girls on the opposing team had the ball and was dribbling it down the field. It got past our midfield players and two defenders. I was the last one before it reached our goalie. I ran towards her and with everything I had I kicked the ball.
As I stepped on the field, I knew the next few minutes could make or break my college options. Although I was only a freshman, if I were able to make varsity, college would be closer in reach. The first feed I had from behind cage was low, my stick drug the ground as if I was using a shovel, I cradled through the ball and somehow came up with it, no problem. My next challenge was to finish the shot. As I made a fake and the ball plummeted to the ground, I knew I needed to step up my game. The second pass came right into the pocket of my stick, I faked low and shot high, directly into the top corner of the goal. I slowly jogged off the field, behind me I faintly heard “way to go kid”, I knew it must have been the varsity coach.
When I was eight years old, I played my first season of soccer. The real reason I played soccer was because my dad forced me to play. I loved to play all kinds of sports such as basketball, baseball and football but I was never interested in soccer. After my first practice I already realized soccer was not for me. I told my dad that I did not want to play anymore but he would not listen and made me keep going to practice. At my 3rd practice, the whole team was running laps and I tripped over a stick and fell down. My ankle was hurting pretty bad but I knew I was going to be fine. While I was lying on the ground, I thought to myself If I tell the coach and my dad that my ankle is hurt really bad than I won’t have to play anymore. I thought it was a genius idea at the time. I told them just that and it worked! I have no idea how my dad knew this but once I got home he knew that I was milking my injury. He told me something that night that I won’t ever forget. He told me “you didn’t just give up on yourself, you gave up on your team”. He called the coach the next day and told him that
All of the hard work culminated in our last game of the season, the division title was on the line. With fifty-six seconds left in the game, we earned a corner kick. A perfect ball spiraled toward the six-yard box. Time slowed to a crawl as I felt my body leap into the air. Reaction, muscle memory and instinct took over. My teammates erupted when the ball whizzed off my head and landed in the back of the net. The clock buzzed seconds later and we all ran together to celebrate our win. I was elated we had won the game, but more importantly, I felt satisfied, and not just because of the goal.
I find inner peace through soccer, and I’ll explain this. I was born in Westerville, Ohio to parents from Ghana. Soccer (or football/ball as it’s called there) is the most played sport in that country, I’ve always been trying to be a ‘true Ghanaian’ by doing typical Ghanaian things, I’ve always been proud to be Ghanaian even when I was young and didn’t know much about the country. I’ve been playing soccer for 6 or 7 years, with each year, I’d say that I’ve became a better soccer player. I didn’t think that my love for the sport would grow and hit my heart as it does now, I always think that I can be the Landon Donovan, Clint Dempsey, Jozy Altidore, Mario Balotelli, or even Baba Rahman with hard work and dedication and be able to prove to my
“Go Spartans Go!” screamed the crowd as we took the field. I felt nervous, with sweat dripping from my face and my hands feeling moist. The moment I took my position, I felt destined to be the best player on the field and thought to myself, “I can do it.” It was my first start for my career as a varsity soccer player for Brookfield East. I wanted to make every opportunity count. I could smell the scent of the freshly cut grass and the aroma of the concession stand. The referee blew his whistle and we were off to the races. The first 45 minutes went by in a heartbeat and I was exhausted. 5 minutes after halftime, the unthinkable happened. As I was sprinting for the ball, my knee gave out and twisted beneath me. I fell in an instant and I felt
I was shaking from nervousness. I knew that I had to give it everything I had for the sake of my team. I ran out on the field. As the ball was being played on the other side, I prayed that I would have an opportunity to help my team. Not a minute later, the ball flew up over me and the rest of the offense. One of the midfielders dashed to the ball. She ran down into the corner and passed it to the middle. I stood there, anticipating the drop and ready to score. As the ball fell to the ground, I took a small step back. I quickly got my balance, and shot as hard as I could. Time seemed to stand still as the ball flew through the air, over the goalies hands, and right into the corner of the goal. I had done it. I had broken the tie. My whole team rushed over to give me a hug. I was almost crying from joy. I could hear my parents and the other fans cheering for me from the sidelines. Shortly after we took the lead yet again, the final whistle blew. We had
I approached the gym, nervously changing into my soccer gear, and facing some very skilled players. I felt that because I had practiced so much, my abilities had definitely improved. Not only this, but because I had already experienced two nerve wracking years trying out, I knew exactly what Mr. McBurney would throw our way. My past would
TWEEEEEET. Boom boom, boom boom. I heard the beating of my heart as I picked myself up from the ground. Trailing 1-0 with just over a minute left to play, the referee had blown the whistle for a penalty kick, and my coach was calling my name to take it. I stepped up to the spot, it was the last play of the game. I stared into the keeper's eyes. Left or right, left or right. He blew the whistle. Strategically placing the ball into the lower right corner, I could smell the celebrations, I could hear the parents and teammates chanting my name, but instead, all my senses were snapped back to reality when the keeper hit the ball out of bounds. That was it, I had the chance to win the championship for my team, and I blew it.
I refused to cheer too much because I know it would drive my focus away and it was best to stay humble. I reminded the offensive team this because it would be our hubris if we let our victories envelope our heads. By the end of the final quarter, we had won our game by only a 2-point conversion. The cannonade from my chest was still lunging towards the outside world. Throughout the game I feared failure, yet I overcame it. Realizing that my role was more influential than I known previously, I adapted to the pressure. I reflected on my own performance and knew I could do better. There was so much I could improve on and I was determined to be the