At this point the water in my eyes was about to start flowing downwards. I sucked it up though. I have to say something; I can�t just sit here looking like a little girl. �Thanks for letting me know, I�m really glad you told me.� Oh that was stupid, why did you say that? She looked really worried. She could tell that she crushed me. I got up and left her office and went into the girl�s locker room. I cried. I cried until my eyes couldn�t produce any more tears. I was so upset that I couldn�t go to classes the rest of the day. I left. That was the only day that I ever skipped school. I told her a week later that I was quitting. I had never quit anything in my life, and now I was quitting the thing I loved most. I didn�t know what I was going to do. Soccer had been my life not only for the past four years but since I was a little girl. Strangely enough, quitting was probably the best thing I could have done. The team ended up falling apart, and I was forced to find my place somewhere else in the school. I made friends who were not soccer players, something that before had been a foreign concept. It was hard for me to let go of the team; I still watched almost all of their home games and even traveled to see a few. What is so amazing about the practice fields is that I can get the feeling that I get there in any empty field with a just few friends and a soccer ball. All of those memories come rushing back. Those mornings with my team, the part of me that I don�t get to show often, the stinging disappointment, and all of the friends I made will always be in the back of my mind as I play. I spent four years of my life playing on those fields. It�s where I did most of my growing up. It�s a place full of heartache and tears, but mostly it�s a place that I love. |
| A Girl with Balls cont. |
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