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Personal Narrative: The Soccer Ball

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Splat. A girl slipped on the mud and stepped right on to the soccer ball, face-planting on the ground with a thud. I cringe and blow my whistle, signaling a foul. Before I can even ask if she’s all right, I heard thunder booming in my ear, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? YOU’RE CALLING THAT A FOUL?!” I looked up to see a red-faced man about twice my size, beady eyes staring right at me, unblinking. The ground was slippery, but the hurt girl had also clearly been pushed with excess force, and I knew that it was clearly a foul. However, I could not muster the strength to interrupt the man, who was now screaming non-stop at me. I couldn’t even hear a word he said, but all I could think was Make him stop. Please please please make him stop. And now multiple
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