During the course of this new and savage rite of passage, I was horrified at how many players were injured, sometimes in the first half alone. For the few first games, I somehow managed to avoid injury, mostly by avoiding the ball and other players, and this left me feeling almost invincible. Until that one game when I felt particularly capable and stood firm in front of the goal to prevent a score. The kick did not go in but only because my entire body stopped it. An embarrassingly rough groan left me as the ball was thrusted into my stomach and to the feet of my fellow defender. Forced to signal to my coach that I may need five minutes to recover from my blow, I ended up sitting out for the remainder of the quarter regretting my decision of ever trying this sport.
That same game is particularly haunting because after I caught my breath, I reentered on the field and did something few defenders can say they have done. It was the final quarter and our side was losing. The enemy was moving in closer and at this point in my soccer career, I knew that anymore points on their behalf would mean a loss to our team. I couldn’t let my fellow players down so I ran faster than anyone- including me- thought was possible and battled for dominance over the ball. Claiming victory, I made the most important move in soccer, I scored a goal. It just wasn’t in the other team’s net. In the struggle, I got a little too excited and meaning to kick forward,
I instead sent the ball backwards…straight into the goal I was supposed to be defending.
It was the game point and went to other team. There were so many bodies pressed together that it was impossible to tell who had nudged the ball in. The only other one who knew the truth was the goalie on our team. He saw what I did and though he never told anyone, I know he never forgot what I did. And he never forgave me. Despite knowing I failed as left defender, I was too proud to ignore I had made a goal and a game defining goal at that. At the end of the day, that’s all that mattered. Not who won but that I had scored a goal in soccer.
My soccer playing days were limited to one semester and on the last day no one was more relieved than me to know the season was over. It must have been the longest two months of my life and the second that first game commenced, I swore to never play another season of that ruthless sport. Even with the unhappiness while playing soccer, I did enjoy it though: my teammates, the thrill of a win, and the pride of being a part of team. I just wasn’t overly fond of the running and drilling, so really I liked everything except the soccer part of it.
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