Personal Narrative: My First Soccer Team

In a flash, the referee blows his whistle, and the game is over. Legs striding, I chase after the ball, stealing it from the other team. Amidst the excitement, I lose track of time, and minutes go by in seconds. I started playing soccer when I was 7 years old. For as long as I can remember I have loved to play soccer. When I play soccer I forget about all my worries. Since then I have played for many different recreational teams for Verdigris and Catoosa. I have also played for a competitive soccer team for West Side Alliance. Today, I play for Verdigris High School soccer. I have played for their junior varsity team for two years as the captain and the junior varsity player of the year. I have also played for the varsity team.

In July 2013, my grandma asked me did I want to play another football season. I replied, yes, so she signed me up to play football for the Carson Colts. I was on the Carson Colts, a Junior Peewee division team. It was a challenge. I wanted to stay with my teammates, but that meant losing 30 pounds.

The 1st half of our game against Eagan didn't go so well, we were down 13-0 heading into the locker room at halftime. Losing the game was on everyone's mind considering we were on a 2 game losing streak, but I wasn't going to let that happen. I did my best to inspire my teammates and spark some energy for the 2nd half. I walked into the locker room and started physically lifting teammates heads up. During this time I was giving different thoughts of encouragement to different teammates, I could tell our starting quarterback was pretty upset after throwing a few interceptions and being scoreless up to this point. He was a sophomore, so knowing that I told him that there was no pressure on him, and that no matter how he played our team, the

I used to believe that soccer was, well, just soccer. I'd play for my rec team, in which would consist of one practice and one game a week. Nothing special, and not too stressful. After I got tired of rec soccer, I joined a travel team. To be specific it was the Mahwah Raiders. It was a step up from rec, I now had two practices and one game a week. This wasn't too crazy for me- I was fine with the timing and schedule of everything.

During the second semester of my sophomore I started coaching the U-12 soccer league through the Joliet Park District with my sister’s boyfriend Ryan. Ryan and I co-coached this team and we had the help one of the player’s father so we had an extra hand. I was extremely nervous because there wasn’t a huge age difference between kids and myself. The first day Ryan took the lead in coaching and I tried my best to reinforce what he was trying to explain. As our first season went on I started getting a little too close to some of the players and the impacted how I would talk to just those players alone. To me that was not a big deal because what is the point of coaching if you don’t to know the team you are with right? Well that blew up in my face when it

7:00pm could not come fast enough. I was waiting anxiously in my seat for my first opportunity to start as a varsity player. I saw the ball soar through the air as my stomach churned, what I did not know was that we would lose that game twenty three to seven. We had not lost to that team in thirty nine years, and I wanted it to be forty. Preparation was our downfall, and all we could do was move on and get ready for the next game.

In the spring of 2016, I began to think about my senior project while I was preparing for my own spring soccer season to start. My friend, Atya Van Ness, reached out to me about an opportunity of coaching a U6 team that same season. I enjoyed the idea of coaching the next generation of soccer players and building their skills and passion for the sport the same way I did almost 10 years ago. I immediately told her I was interested and began the process of searching for a mentor.

It all started at school. Everyone on the team was wearing their jerseys. Later in the day we had a pep rally in the school gym. It was a lot of fun and got us all pumped up for the big game. There were food and drinks for everyone and I had a good time. The next day was our game and I was focused on winning.

It was my third time trying out for middle school soccer. I felt strong, fit and ready

One of the happiest three months of my life was when our soccer team went on defeated. I learned that you can’t win all by yourself. Our coach was the main motivation behind our success.

All of us were extremely excited because of our first college game. Most of us consider it as one of the most important game in our young soccer career and we just had to win. We had been waiting on this moment over a month now and it was finally here, which we spent rigorous training session knowing that we would be facing different challenges every second of the game. This game was the real test of our team’s togetherness and quality to see if we have what it takes in becoming professional soccer players one day.

A blaring whistle came from Coach Holstein, the only gym coach at Norbury high, signifying that class had started. No one ever took him seriously with his short shorts and sweatband that held back his long flow, but he sure was loud. “Listen up boys”, Coach shouted and it echoed throughout the gymnasium. “We are going to have a good ole match of dodgeball today”. This received groans from almost the entire class, except the three football players in the back. No wonder, they just use this as an excuse to pelt the scrawny kids like me. “Quit your whining and act like real men. Let’s go your wasting time.” Coach yelled.

Our family and me were hoping to see a change instantly but we knew that things weren’t going to be fixed over night. It seemed like the chemo and steroids were working, she had regained some of her color and even her appetite. Then there were those days were it seemed like her progress had taken two steps back, the nosebleeds would hit full force accompanied by those god off bone aches. Days passed until we didn’t even realize that Christmas was the next day. That’s how she was going to spend her Christmas, not prank calling me at three in the morning, not enjoying life like she told me every time she see saw

I woke, aching all over and hearing various beeps and buzzes, only to see that I was surrounded by monitors. Doctors and nurses came rushing in and shouting “She’s awake”. However, everyone was crying, and it was hard to determine if they were tears of joy or sorrow. I tried to sit up, but fell right back down to the creaky hospital bed. “Just relax,” they said. That was when I fell right back into a deep coma.

On a cold Sunday morning in February, I woke up dreading the day. I had an essay to write, three pages of math homework to do, and two biology packets to copy. Four days later I would be having lunch with my mom, none of my homework done, telling her about the past three days I lived without her.