Personal Narrative On Kickball

The famous Scottish soccer player Bill Shankly once said, "Soccer is a matter of life and death, except more important."

Oh how I hated Seth! He was a small, shrimpy, pale kid. His voice was squeaky and sounded like there was a frog in his throat. Since he never t want to play, we decided to make him umpire. He was the worst ump in the whole world. . The first day we played kickball, P.J. and I were on the same team. P.J. was the opposite of Seth in my mind. He was great at kickball, and like me, he always argued. We had known of each other, but we never had a conversation. P.J. and I became friends quickly. We loved playing kickball together every day. Also, whenever Seth made a call against our team, right or wrong, we argued. Oh, how we argued! Challenging Seth was what we looked forward to, day after day. It was nonstop entertainment, and we had a lot of ammunition, with Seth as ump. We argued balls and strikes, safe and out, and catch or no catch.

It was a hot summer day in Hammond, Louisiana and I was pouring down sweat like I had just jumped in a pool. The game was just about to begin, me and my team was eagle eyeing the bomb squad. It was so quiet that you could hear your own sweat hitting the bench. The umpire broke up everyone’s concentration by saying, “play ball”! The defense had ran out on the field and I started rolling ground balls from 2nd to short-stop to third base. They had all made good throws back to me and then I threw the ball into the dug-out because the game had begun.

Growing up in a house with all boys in Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania, I was taught to be tough and injuries were very common but easily shaken off. When it came to sports, I would put all my time and effort into one thing: soccer. Soccer was always a true passion of mine; as a matter of fact, it was more of a lifestyle than just a sport. I would spend weekends traveling around my local area playing the game I loved with people I enjoyed being with. My teammates became like my second family after countless seasons and we did almost everything together off the soccer field. The idea of putting on my jersey and lacing up my cleats was a moment I would not trade for the world and something I would never take for granted.

When we got there my parents were in the lobby my mom crying in my dad's lap. We hurried to the x-ray room. When we got there they put me to sleep for I would not struggle. When I woke up I had my parents in the room and a cast on my leg. My mom came up to me and said, “Your leg, it’s broken”

Soccer is not only a sport for me, but also my childhood. I remember that when I was a little boy, I followed my older brothers and their friends to play soccer every day. We did not have the soccer fields. We played soccer on the quite streets or on the fields, not soccer fields, wherever we had spaces to run and control the ball. Because of I came a person like soccer. I like to play and watch others play it. Soccer is running is my blood. I am really interested in the soccer.

Middle school is a time when kids attempt to figure out how they fit in, and that is exactly what I was looking to do when I started playing volleyball. I was in seventh grade when I decided to try out, and it was only because my best friend was playing. Little did I know just how organized and complex the game was; I just assumed volleyball was a more intense version of “don’t let the balloon touch the ground.” I never thought that I would become so passionate about this sport that it would have an impact on my character.

I fell. This felt like I didn’t have a wrist. But I got back up really carefully and went up to the lounge to my dad and sister. Ah, Ah, Dad I think I broke my wrist. No you didn’t. It was swelling up, It hurt so bad I couldn’t even believe this was happening.

I was thirteen, and I had just come home from a school softball game. My friend Dalton had invited my sister and I to come and swim at the neighborhood pond. My sister stayed home, but I got permission to go. After a while of swimming, Dalton looks at me claims that he’ll jump out of a tree near the bank if I jump out. Of course, I accepted my friend’s little dare and climbed into the tree, focusing on the seven-foot-deep drop-off off of the bank. Regrettably, I didn’t jump far enough. My right leg landed in the drop-off, but my left leg hit the clay, which caused all of my weight to shift to my left foot. I felt an immense pain in my ankle and started screaming while crawling over to the bank as Dalton ran to get my mom. After I finally made it to the emergency room, I found that I had broken my fibula at an upward slant, which caused the upper part of the bone to slam down into my ankle.I had completely blown out every ligament and tendon on the left side of my ankle. I had to have a plate and four screws implanted into my fibula along with the surgical repair of all of my ligaments and tendons. The entire ordeal left me extremely interested in the human body, and this interest was heightened when I had to get my appendix removed a few months later and again when I took Anatomy and

Next, they put me in a different room upstairs to take some x-rays, they figured out that I had 2 fractures (so practically broken!) They put an enormous cast on my arm that went all the way down to my elbow and I had to wear that for 2 weeks or something like that. After a while of having it on, my arm got numb and I couldn’t feel my hand! When we got traveled back after the 2 weeks they gave me another cast. The difference was that it was smaller and only went down to my wrist also my 2 fingers (pinky and ring) were at a 90 degree angle. They told me “Wear that one for another

The last time I played soccer was March of 2016, and I am now running track full

Growing up I had focused on competitive soccer. Soccer challenged me both physically and mentally and I learned to love these demands on the field. These challenges helped me foster a self-confidence in myself when it came to athletics. When I fractured my tibia playing against my rival high school, sending my knee cap into my thigh, I was faced with a new test. The sport that I loved was taken away from me for an extended period of time and it took away part of my identity. Who was I without soccer?

felt as if all my years of enduring health issues and training had led up to this point in my soccer

My essay is about the time I tried football. My mom's friend wanted me to do football because her son was. I declined her offer many times, but I finally said yes. My mom said I could try it once and see if I liked and if I did not I could quit. She ended up lying to me! I got over it tho.

The weird part: I didn`t cry. I just remember screaming as loudly as I possibly could as my friends rushed to me and called my parents. I heard gasps, as people tried not to stare at my instantly bruised elbow turning purple and blue. As I was rushed into an ambulance, I could see the worry in my parents sorry eyes, and didn’t know what to do. Once we arrived at the intimidating hospital, with people on gearnies being rolled around all over the first floor, the doctor came to me after what felt like a year. They rolled me to a dark, secluded room where they x-rayed my elbow. I was rolled back and put on medicine that relieved the pain, and put me to sleep, which after all three doses, still barely worked.