“Pass Pass Pass”, my teammate screamed for my attention. There were only a few minutes left before my soccer team would win the championship game and all we had to do was prevent the other team from scoring. Out of nowhere, the other team got an energy boost and they start sprinting towards the goal and they were coming straight at me. They would have to get through me before they could shoot the ball into the net. All my teammates were counting on me and then WHAM! The girl on the other team shot the ball right at my face. Oh man, did it hurt. It felt like a raging bull had just plowed over me and smashed my face. I couldn't take the pain anymore so I told my coach that he should put a substitute in for me. When I finally got on the sideline, my coach asked if I was alright. I shook my head yes because the pain was starting to go away. I was still crying so my coach comforted me by saying, “You saved that shot from going in.” This made me feel better because ultimately I helped my soccer team win the championship. …show more content…
My parents raised me with the sport of soccer. Most of my memories of being a little girl have been soccer whether that was watching it in person, watching it on the television or playing the game. Many times, I would kick the soccer ball around with my parents in the field behind our apartment. Even before I was born and in my mother’s womb, my parents would “take” me to soccer games. When I was in third grade, I started playing soccer with an actual team. I was a little nervous about joining because I had always been shy and most of the girls on my team had been playing with each other since they were born. I still remember the day that I had my first practice with my new team. Fortunately, I knew a couple of the girls because they went to my school. After a few practices and some games, I was starting to really enjoy