Vroom! The sound of my dad’s Toyota blasted my ear. I could feel the chilly morning breeze, blowing in my face. I could smell the tea my dad had, which was steaming hot. I stepped into the car teeth chattering.
The Battlefield was a soccer tournament in Virginia that I competed in. In the first game of the Battlefield, I did not play well, because I was playing at center-mid. At center-mid, you are the quarterback of the soccer field. You have to make the passes early; you have to switch the field. You also have to be an option for everyone on the field. Center-mid is very important and in the first game of The Battlefield tournament, I didn’t do my job. We still won over the Black Dogs 5 to 2. I was delighted and depressed, delighted that we won, but depressed about my play. So I decided to pick it up a level.
In the second game, we won 4-0 over the Cardinals and I scored a goal; I was playing outside-mid. “Pant, pant!” The sweat made me uneasy as it trickled down my face. Sam had the ball on the other side of the field. Being Sam he was dribbling through everyone. All the attention was focused on Sam, so I carefully snuck up towards the left goal post. Once Sam got to the goal line, he nutmegged a pass to me. Excellent!!! All I had to do was tap it in and, GOAL!! We were winning one to zero. The game went on without them scoring a goal, and I got an assist as we won 4-0.
The day was almost over as my dad drove me home. The Plain White Ts were playing Hey There Delilah on the radio as I thought about how I played. Okay I thought, but I knew I could do better.
As I went to bed, I was still considering how I played. My final considerations were to play like I did in the second game.
The next morning, I had to wake up at 6:40, because we needed to get to the tournament by 8 o’clock. As the clock reached 6:30, I started to wake up. I kept on commanding myself to sleep; you’ll need it, I thought. It didn’t work and I spent the next 20 minutes in my bed, unaware of the time. “6:50,” I shouted, astonished!
We got in the car at 7:20. As I walked out the door, I realized how cold it was as the breeze blew through. “BRRRR,” I exclaimed teeth chattering.
When we got to the park, we couldn’t locate the field. We were supposed to go to softball field three or SB3. When we found the field it was already 8:10. We warmed-up effortlessly and then it was game time. We were playing the JR Royals, an NVSC (Northern Virginia Soccer Club) team. It was freezing. My nose was dripping snot; I sucked it back in and felt a warm sensation, that made me feel uncomfortable. As I breathed moderately, I saw my breath as a small white cloud in front of my face. “BRRR,” I shivered while rubbing my hands together for warmth. As we started the game, I forgot about the cold weather.
We started the game and it went by rapidly. At half-time it was 7-0 and my coach told us that we could only score goals off crosses. The game finished with us winning 8-0.
Now that we had won the first three games, we were onto the semis.
“Who?” I said in disbelief, when I heard who we were playing. “The black team,” my Dad said annoyed. The Black team was the lower team in Arlington.
The battle of the ages, I thought, as we walked to the soccer field. When we got to the soccer field we warmed-up together. We were goofing around in the warm-up saying things like; “Hey Owen!” or “It’s on!” as we exchanged grins. Obviously, the coaches weren’t happy. They made us do wind sprints!
I was excited as the game got underway. I gave it my all. “Huff, Puff!” I sprinted down the sideline. PHHH! Went the noise of my foot striking the ball, as I stole it from Jonathan. I dribbled the ball and passed it to big Nick. Nick took a lousy first touch and they stole it. The game went on like this for the two halves and went into overtime with no one scoring. We went onto a PK (penalty kick) shoot-out! Everybody on the field at the end of overtime would participate. As the teams huddled up, Coach Alexis asked who wanted to shoot first. Everyone raised their hands but me. I was too fearful. I also had to urinate really badly. As the shoot-out started, a warm liquid dripping down my leg made everything warm and sticky. E.P shot first and scored, we cheered while I urinated. The shoot-out went on until everyone had shot except for the goalie and I. That meant that I was up. As I walked up to the ball I urinated more rapidly. The referee blew his whistle, and I started to shoot. GOAL!!!
I stopped urinating. Unfortunately, they made it so our goalie was up and he scored!!! GOAL!!! Now the other team had their final shot. BHHTT!!! The sound of the ball striking our goalie’s gloves. DEHH!!! DEHH!! DEHHHH!!! The sound of the whistle meant the game was over. We had won!!!
We were on to the finals! 30 minutes later I was at the same field warming up. At the time none of us realized how exhausted we were. As the game started we scored the first goal. Champions, I thought. Not for long. The Lee Mount Vernon Soccer Club Patriots scored two goals before half-time and we were losing it.
I went in to start the second half. “Pant, Pant!” My legs ached, my mouth was dried up, and I was exhausted. I sprinted as fast as I could, but the other team out sprint me. Sweat dripped down me, it plopped on my cleets as I stopped to catch a breath. I was jogging towards the ball when number 18, a visiting player, swung his foot upward; I experienced a large amount of impact to my gut. “UGHHH!!!” I moaned in pain. I felt the pain of a giant bruise with a 10,000 pound weight being dropped on it.
As I got up the pain died down, a ball hit me in the eye. Again, pain. I walked to the sideline as the Patriots won 4-1.
We lost the tournament, and as I drove home my dad said that we would play that team again on Halloween. The tournament was a blast even though we lost, but, I can’t wait until Halloween, because there will be no number 18!
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