Soccer Saturday

Bright sun, perfect weather and a soccer field. What does this interpret, a soccer game! I woke up this morning my father standing over me telling me to “get ready, get ready!”
“For what?” I ask him hoping that this event is scheduled for another day. “ Your soccer GAME!” A few curse words and some laundry later we are out the door in our bright orange uniforms. We walk out the door my foot and knee in agonizing pain I sill decide I should play the game. The opponent looks frighting enough but I think that we will win.

I love looking at the field, the green grass and the thought of what will happen once the game has started. Our referee is clearly from a Spanish speaking country with his fancy whistle and his eager mind to make us all hate him, it seems to me that his job is quiet odious. The whistle blows after the first goal the other team makes and I can not stop feeling a pugnacious feeling in my mind. Then three more goals go past me. I happen to be defense, my least favorite position.

My legs feel like they're going to topple right underneath me. The sweat drips from my head. Then we finally get a goal! Three more goals come flying passed the defensive unit of the other team. Now the game is tied, one more slip up and our perfect game is ruined. The offensive unit, including me heads up the field passing in every witch way, the pressure collapses over us. The other team scores.

Presses time is being wasted, Enzo goes flying up the field he is our only hope. He brings his over sized foot back, then brings it forward. The ball goes flying through the air, landing precariously in the middle of the net. Tie!!!


Noah Reynolds