My Crutches Stories (True stories)

1|| The Who, What, When, and Most Importantly... WHY ME?!

This is lowkey a long title. And lowkey, this cover is treacherous too. Who decided to put this? Oh wait, I did. My bad, y'all.

Well, that's besides that point either way.

So, back up here. 

Why was I on crutches for two weeks?

Here's the Series of Very Unfortunate Events in a nutshell, specifically curated to the playlist called "Welcome to the life of Sophie."

Yes, that's my name, don't wear it out, don't shout it out either because that's just embarrassing, might I say.

Embarrassing for you, because it doesn't affect me in the slightest.

Might even entertain me...

BUT THAT IS NOT THE POINT!

Saturday, March 16, 2024

The saddest day of my life-

(Cue the cackling afterwards).

Anyways, the saddest day of my life started here.

It was the first soccer (Guys, I'm Mexican- I swear, I just don't feel like putting my spanish keyboard on for one word) game of the season, 'cause, you know, you gotta get injured the first game, right? It toughens you up, buddy.

Like, I got the intimidation down.

Albeit that weird interjection, first game, right?

I'm a midfielder, winger, whatever you call it wherever you may sit right now. Or you might be standing...

Well, whatever you're doing.

So, I was put in as a starts because I'm just better like that, and from past seasons, my team already knows that;

a. They're all older than us. Like, literally a soccer age bracket older than our whole team.

b. They are some major bitches and pain in the asses, minus this one nice girl who chatted me up during the game and was so cheerful.

c. We only had one sub, while they had 8 and they still didn't allow us a water break. Fuming so hard right now, like c'mon!?

d. THEY ARE SOME DIRTY PLAYERS! And-

e. Their coach just wants them to win and doesn't care if they don't play by the rules.

Got that?

Got it.

My team and their team gets on the field, and we all hear it. The "Look how scrawny and short they are"s and the "Omg why do they look so dumb"s.

Don't judge off first impressions, kids. 

So, the whistle blows. Game on. 

I'm right wing and I push up, ready for the ball to come over to me, and I suddenly about run into the other team's #8. She has very purple hair, brown eyes, tall af, and needs to get on my level-

Because she's too damn tall to see me.

She says, "Watch it!" and I may or may not have mocked her behind her back.

We'll call her...

Miss Mouth.

The game continues, Claire possessing the ball most of the game with our other teammates, Karlie and Kayleigh, sometimes crossing the ball to me as we gain speed and streak down the field. 

Fifteen minutes in, it all goes wrong.

They gained possession of the ball on the sidelines, where I was and kicked it up to their left forward. Our right defense got possession and I tried to streak back down the field to recieve the pass only...

Miss Mouth is hot on my tail for absolutely no reason.

Madison, our defender, my sworn frenemy, kicked it to the other team instead of me. How slow can you get.

Meanwhile, Miss Mouth almost runs me over and suddenly I land mid-run.

Now, I went into this game with both of my knees sprained, my ankles already weak, loose ligaments, and a prior knee injury on my left knee from dislocating it. 

Landing on my leg, while it was straight, was not intended to happen.

I heard a sickening pop in my right knee, and felt it too. It hurt like hell. I went down, like, I sank like the Titanic to my knee. I knelt down, and the pain was unbearable. I couldn't walk. I couldn't breath.

The whistle blew and my coach came rushing over.

The best part is-

Miss Mouth walked away and huffed out, "AND THIS IS WHY WE STRETCH!"

I 'bout cackled right then and there. She said it loud enough for the parents to here, including my mom who replied with, "No, this is someone who has prior knee injuries, bitch."

My mom's amazing.

I was escorted of the field, limping as I left and a free kick was given to my team, even though I went down by myself, but apparently, Miss Mouth was that close on my tail. Like, buddy, no need to ride my ass while I'm driving. (If you take this the wrong way, that's your problem, the saying is a driving reference as in when a car is tailing someone else's car for no reason and won't get off your back.)

I was out for the game.

I was wrecked.

Crying down on the bench, because I love soccer. It's my life. I don't want to be out for the season. Not when I enjoy this torture of Miss Mouth, because she probably disliked me because I was stealing the ball from her earlier.

Just get better I guess?

I didn't want to leave. It was the first game of the season and 15 minutes in, I was already out.

Typical.

I guess you could say I was bitter. But I also had a responsibility to cheer my team on, to be there for them.

Anyways...

I stayed. I had brought a knee brace just in case, so I was a bit better.

But I still couldn't walk.

OH WELL!

I WAS DYING AFTERWARDS!!!

So basically, we got home after a bad experience at Chick-Fil-A and I WAS STRUGGLING TO HOBBLE UP THE STAIRS! 

I couldn't make it-

LEAVE ME TO DIE, GO AHEAD!

CUE THE DRAMATICS-

Blah blah blah.

I had to CRAB WALK up the stairs with ONE leg.

Now, side note. When you think of crab-walking, you normally picture either two things; A sideways egyptian walk on one and and one foot, or an upside down crawl on all fours.

YOU AIN'T NEVER SEEN A THREE-LEGGED CRAB-

But it's ok. I kept my cool- codespeak for I died laughing on the stairs- and made my way up with the best of my ability and the worst of my integrity. I was the coolest three-legged crab you've ever seen, if said crab was also carrying a book on it's head as it went up.

I went to bed, showered, brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, went to the bathroom, ate a midnight snack, and phoned a friend, not necessarily in that order.

And then Sunday came...