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I had just completed the eighth grade. It was time to move to Burbank, where I would attend Reavis High School. It was very hard moving to a new town in the summer of 1996. This event meant having to meet new people and losing my old pals.
Even though I had moved about every two years of my entire life, that did not make this time any easier. High School, like most other schools, had an in crowd. At Reavis, it was mainly the football and soccer players. After I started school, soccer tryouts were being held because soccer was a fall sport. I saw this as a chance to get recognized by my new school, as well as a chance to make new friends and gain some popularity. Getting up one Saturday morning and going up to the school, I was very nervous about whether I would make the team or not.
I always had athletic ability, not to mention years of playing soccer in Poland, but since this was a new town, I wasnt sure about how my skills would compare with the other kids. Soccer tryouts were a tough event. When tryouts started, it was explained to all of us that the coaches would run drills in order to see our skills, and then place us in position groups. After the drills, which I did extremely well in, Coach Perch placed me in the forwards group. He told me that I was fast and had good control of the ball, and that I would make a good forward. It felt so good, not only making the team, but being told by the coach that I did very good.
Throughout the next couple of weeks, the Reavis Rams held soccer practice every day after school from 3: 00 until 5: 45. We always started with some team stretching and then we moved to the drills. As the days and practices went by, I made many new friends and slowly I began to like the high school experience. The most exciting day for an athlete, the day of the first game, suddenly came.
I remember wearing my soccer jersey to school on that day, not concentrating on anything but the game. We were playing Mount Caramel at home. All day long I couldnt concentrate on anything but playing soccer. It did not matter to me that I was on the junior varsity squad, all I cared about was playing and scoring a goal. Everything my teachers said that day, I forgot. My mind was set on one thing, and one thing only, winning the game.
After the 7 th period bell rang, I rushed to the locker room. Everyone was pumped up and ready for the game, screaming and yelling. I remember someone yelling, Time to kick some ass. This game was very important to us because it would prove whether our season would be a success or a failure. All of the things that happened from this point to the actual game seemed to last a brief minute. There we were, on the field ready to play.
All of a sudden, the noise of the buzzer awakened me from my thoughts; finally, kickoff time. The first few minutes seemed the most crucial, everyone stared from the bleachers, deciding which team was better. Suddenly one of their midfielders got the ball and passed through two Rams defenders, passing the ball to his teammate. I remember as he ran past the middle, through the stopper, and unloaded a shot which ended up in the net. At this point, I didnt know what to do, whether to cry or acknowledge the fact that they scored.
The rest of the half seemed boring, nothing but passing around of the ball, back and forth. The buzzer ended the half and we all came together to listen to Coach Perch. What I realized during this talk was that we had the ability to beat this team. Our team was great, so why are they up one? This was the question that stayed in my mind during the first fifteen minutes of the second half. Surprisingly, I learned that this had made my game worse.
I lost the ball several times and couldnt manage to pass it very often. About five minutes later, as I watched from the bench, the other team scored again. This made my coach mad, I could see it in his movements, even though he didnt say anything. There was less than a half hour to go until the end when coach replaced me with Steve, another forward. Nothing seemed to happen, except kicking the ball back and forth. As I thought about how prepared I was for the game, I couldnt help but to be mad.
At that moment, I focused on the game entirely and was ready for an attack on their net. I tried several times to run on the side of the field so I could get a pass from a midfielder, but nothing happened, until finally I got one just past the half of the field. I dribbled it for about fifteen yards and then passed off to my buddy Dave, which was the playmaker. Noticing a weak spot in the middle, just ten yards away from the goalpost, I ran towards it and suddenly the ball was beneath my feet. What happened then was unexplainable, my foot had jerked and kicked the ball without my consent. Sure enough the ball ended up just past the goalkeeper.
I couldnt believe it, I scored my first goal. The feeling was nothing like I ever felt before. The team and spectators screamed as I ran across the field, jumping for joy. I could see my coach, clenching his fist and giving me a look of appreciation.
The rest of the game was scoreless, with the result putting us in a loss. Our first, and surely not last loss of the season. To me, it didnt matter that we lost. I wasnt hurt to the extent that I would despair over it the whole day, like my other teammates did.
The experience actually taught me more about myself and what I am capable of doing if my mind is set on something. Playing soccer at school gave me the opportunity to meet other people and to become more involved with school. Bibliography:
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