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Personal Narrative: Competitive Soccer In My Life

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Competitive soccer can be hard. Especially if you have been doing it for already seven years at such young age. The hardest part of soccer for me is the stress, the pressure, and the expectations of my parents. Of course, since my parents pay so much for me to play competitive soccer, the only sport i’ve played, and the sport that I have a compassion for, they have expectations that can be hard to reach. My mom is the one that cares most. She says I must give one-hundred ten percent at practice, at games, in scrimmages, and even in private training. Her motto is, “If you want to be the best, you must work the hardest “ Sometimes this motto leaves me wondering. My mom has never played soccer in her life, and I thought it was unfair that she …show more content…

She didn’t answer as she was too busy typing an email. I assumed it was something about soccer, so I started to read it. Dear Coach Greg, My family has moved from Oklahoma to Las Vegas a few days ago. My eleven year old daughter, Hannah, is interested in playing for your team. She has played since she was three years old and started playing club just a few years ago. While in Oklahoma, Hannah was the top scorer on her team playing as center forward. Although Hannah has always been used to forward, she can play anywhere. Soccer is the only sport Hannah has ever played and has a true passion for the wonderful sport. If you can please get back with me soon, we would appreciate it. Thank you, Pam Main and Hannah Main. I had yelled, “WHAT?”. I calmed my voice as my mom had turned her chair around and was now facing me. “Who is …show more content…

I slowly began to walk away. went into my room and layed on my bed on my stomach. I had felt awful for what I had said. It ran through my mind over and over again. Days had past and my mom was still not talking to me. I was so over it. I went into her room and said, “Mom, I’m sorry for what I said the other day. I really love soccer. When is the tryout?” I could see a shift in my mom’s face. It looked like she hasn’t smiled for days. Her face was red from crying and her eyes looked dry. She also had her glasses on. She never wears her glasses. “Today,” she finally answered. It felt good to hear my mom’s voice, but I wasn’t too happy about having it today. “Go get dressed. Be ready in thirty minutes.” Although I wasn’t too happy, I had to do it. For my mom. After tryouts, I was exhausted. I had two months of a break, but I didn’t expect to be that out of shape. I didn’t make the team my mom had wished for, but Coach Greg gave us another team to try, LV NEON. My mom got in contact with the coach. His name with Coach David and even his name scared me. My mom had sent the same email to Coach David as she did for Coach Greg. The coach had replied in

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