The sun shimmered, bouncing off the grass like a reflection from a mirror. The stands were packed at 5326 Willow Lane sports complex aka: Braves Feeding Grounds. The musky scent of sweat filled the small huddle, but nobody seemed to mind. In all white, the braves stared intently at coach Brett Bastian; waiting for the motivating speech that was sure to come on our biggest game of the season, braves vs wolves. In place of the electrifying peroration we had become accustomed to, Brett would deliver a life lesson that would long outlast my soccer career. Brett’s eyes glassed over, and suddenly it wasn’t a hot day in September; it was 1989. A much thinner and more athletic “coach” ran with great fervor. By his side was another high school student. The two’s chemistry was simply astounding: weaving in and out of defenders like a seamstress needle through a tightly knit scarf. …show more content…
Jaron, was his name. A great kid really, talented, smart, funny.” Suddenly his gaze was on us, one of deep concern and great pride. “This time, on the field it doesn’t last forever. It may seem never ending at the time, but trust me; time runs short.” After hearing this I expected to zone out. We all expected the standard lecture, the ‘you’re students before you’re athletes, school comes first’. Instead, he veered in a different