How To Not Life

Clumsy Me: Soccer Edition

When I was in second grade, my doctor warned my parents that I was becoming dangerously overweight. So they decided to try and make me more athletic. Therefore they enrolled me in a local Soccer team. We practiced 3 days a week and had games (competitions) on Saturdays. I actually enjoyed Soccer for a while. I had an amazing coach who motivated me to do my best. She didn't care if we won or lost as long as we gave our all.

During practices she always played upbeat music and did her best to make it fun. However, she ended up quitting her job after a couple of months and another guy took her place. This coach cared about whether we won or lost. He also believed yelling was the best motivator as well as ruling with fear. I slowly started to dread going to Soccer practice. However, I kept going. I couldn't disappoint my parents or teammates.

Then towards the end of our season we had a game and we were short on players. This meant people had to play longer with little to no rotation of players. I was placed on the offensive meaning I would be running a lot. At one point I took a nasty fall but I immediately got back up and kept running. I felt fine but my dad saw something else.

My father always came to support me during practices and games. He was so proud to see his non-athletics daughter giving it her all on the field. However, after my fall he noticed I was limping a little. I was slower but still going strong. However, he was worried.

During our next break, I started to realize something was wrong. I felt some discomfort in my leg. I told my father and he talked to my coach. My dad wanted me to go to the doctor to get check out. My coach however forbade me. Instead, my coach placed me as a goalie. This way I wouldn't have to run as much. I defended the goal but my the pain in my leg was still growing however I kept pushing through.

Finally the soccer ball came at me too fast and before I could catch it, it hit me directly in the stomach knocking the break out of my lungs. I was down. My dad had enough and took me out of the game. We then went to the doctor was I was told I broke my angle. I had to get a knee high cast. The doctors were surprised I lasted so long. My doctor suggested rest but I refused. The following week I was gonna fly to visit family there was no time for rest.

So I went to school got everyone to sign my cast then went to the airport. The good thing about having a cast when you go to the airport is every takes pity on you and they drive you everywhere. My parents also go the perks since I couldn't go anywhere without them.