The Ride Home From Church

Ever since I could remember, soccer had been in my life. If there was a soccer team that needed a coach, my father was always the first to volunteer. There were almost too many strenuous weekends spent hours away from home for soccer tournaments to count. My entire family, consisting of my parents, my siblings, my dog, and myself, packed in a mini-van heading to a city that I had never heard of for soccer games. But when I entered high school, all that would soon go away. I kept playing the same sport that I always had, although now I had to wake up at five in the morning for six hours of high school soccer practice in the smoldering summer heat in order to make the high school team. High School sports were more competitive than anything I had done before. I put in as much effort as I could to make the Varsity High School team, staying out past dinner to practice even longer. I was utterly divulged in soccer and trying to be the best I could be. Soon, I would regret placing a game over spending time with my family.

She was endeavoring to change my decision on letting her come with me on this trip. I reminded her of her humble disposition and refused to let her babble any further.

“There’s the smile I knew I could get out of you, but I know you have more things that make you happy.”

I’ve been playing soccer for so long that sometimes I wonder if the kicks my mom felt during her pregnancy were from my practice penalty shots within her womb. I had become so involved with the world of soccer, that when I made the decision to close that old chapter of my life, I was originally unsure of how to start writing the next page.

“Wow, that’s thirteen years of hard work I’m sure. Is there a reason you did that because I know most kids would much rather just go hang out with their friends or ride their bikes than get up at 5 every morning and feed hogs?”

When she saw who was at the door, her eyes got big and she backed up as though I had the plague. She let me talk to her for about 30 minutes. And when I asked why she no longer wanted to speak to me, she said, “As time went on, I noticed your behavior had become increasingly inappropriate.”

“Well if I were you I’d consider staying home when you grow up. You can cook and take care of the house- maybe paint a little bit in your free time. If you really

“I know how you feel,” I say, recalling my school experience. When I was 13 I dropped out to work for my family, as did most of the boys in my class. George will do the same in a few years.

April 5th 2016: 2pm, The rain bore on endlessly, pounding on the school rooftop and turning the soccer fields into vast lakes of dull, muddy water. Dark gray clouds covered the sky, only letting a few rays of feeble sun slip past the barrier. Predicting the game would be moved to another day due to poor weather but instead Coach. Sue Nurse with her

One Saturday morning, 18 year old's Dalton and Jersey Ashtin were getting ready for their big soccer tournament this weekend for their school this weekend, Lee’s Summit High School. It was the Sporting LS soccer cup. When Dalton and Jersey were getting dressed their mother called “You ready?”

She’s dodging my question and that means she did something she knows I’m not going to like.

It was cloudy in the late morning, which meant even the weather didn’t look promising, Even more optimistically looking it seemed like the clouds were about to rupture into trillions of droplets each one a part of me about to shatter from humiliation. And obviously rain and humidity were the best conditions for field hockey. The building looked more downcast than I’d ever seen it, and when my dad parked the car it became more evident that this was not going to go as faultlessly as I hoped it would.

not to mention horny as hell having so much male attention. I wanted to see how far things would go so I told her, “It’s up to you dear, do whatever you want.”

Who likes to be woken up early on a Saturday morning by their mom just to be asked if they wanted to join the community soccer team? I was only nine years old when my mom came into my room, kneeled beside my bed, and hugged me as a way to wake me up to ask me if i wanted to join the soccer team. At first I wasn't aware of what was going on, because I was barely waking up and when I did I told her no, because I never saw myself playing soccer. She insisted,“ C’mon I know you’ll be a good soccer player, because ever since you were inside my stomach you use to kick all the time. Don’t you want to be like your dad? I know you like soccer, I know you do. ” Deep inside I knew she was right. i did love soccer and I did want to play, but it was just

I was so excited to be a normal kid again. In fact, I was so thrilled, that I didn't even think about soccer. When fall crept up, sign up time was beginning. I had always played soccer, so my parents, instinctively, signed me up. I was willing to play, but for a while, it wasn't the same. I was in a competitive league now and on a new team. I didn't know anyone. September inched by, with me dreading each practice. At the first game, something switched for me. As the ball rested at my feet, I felt the feeling. Ball at my feet, wind in my hair. That feeling is excitement, it´s hope, determination. That feeling is never giving up on your dreams. I knew I was slower, weaker, and way behind everyone else, but I wasn't about to let that stop me. Months of training and skill work later, I was back, but with a new mindset of determination and hard