June 19th 2016, the day things got difficult. It was an early morning and the sun was peaking out of the clouds like parents playing peek a’ boo with their baby. The birds were out chirping and looking for their early morning snack. A cool breeze was blowing my hair out of my face as if I were driving down the highway with my head out of the window. The loud cheering of our parents in the stands waiting for us to take on this challenge that we had been preparing weeks for. Stepping on the field with our cleats sinking in the turf and nothing but the look of determination on our faces; today was the day. A few weeks earlier we had played a game against Central, our cross town rivals. The whole game we had played our hearts out, fighting till the end as if we were soldiers fighting for our …show more content…
Each player had practiced everyday as if it were their last. We worked hard until we could not work anymore. Blisters on blisters and bruises covered our shins as if we were just stung by 20 bees. Tired and worn out we still fought day in and day out. After weeks of practice, the day had finally arrived. Our second chance standing at our feet like dogs when they are begging for food. We took our positions and waited for the whistle to blow like a bunch of little children waiting for the after school bell. The whistle blew and we fought. 15 minutes into the game everything change. I was running down the field next to my teammate waiting for the ball to be passed like two little kids running down the street. I called out for the pass and the ball came to my feet. I started to dribble as the opposing players came after me. Pressure was on. I made my way closer to the goal and took the shot. SNAP. I fell to the ground as my leg swung around me. I heard a snap in my knee like someone breaking a candy cane at christmas and a pop like someone had just popped a balloon. Everyone was yelling at me to get up and asking if I was okay,but I could not
The Red Summer of 1919 proved that any movement wanting to challenge general American capitalism must endorse anti-racist demands as a fundamental step to the organization of the working class.
It began to drain our energy and flood our minds with frustration from the referee’s terrible decisions. The frustration mentally affected our positivity and dampened our performance. I could hear groans and moans from members in our team sounding like dying screams of wounded war heroes. My muscles were in agonising pain from fighting for possession and constant sprinting, putting my body on the line. I needed to surrender but couldn’t give up. I needed to continue the second half and inspire the team by helping us to gain victory. After a few strong words from the leader, we started the second half of the battle on top form. Using our young beginners to tire out the opposition, we had the advantage of more troops. It was finally our time to make the final play of the battle count, to overrule Albany and claim the
Again I was here to work and be my best. Half way into practice coach asked “who (faces off)”? I raised my hand because why not? We went to the other side of the felid and I watched before I volunteered to (face off). Seemed easy enough for me so I gave it my all.
The entire week was memorable but the last night we had for All-State was the most memorable to me. It was a Friday night in the big city of Tulsa, Oklahoma, when the stadium lights were shining down on Tulsa Union’s football field. The football players, trainers, and cheerleaders were at the stadium before anyone else. As I began to walk on the football field with my black Muller trainer bag around my body like a purse, I realized not everyone has had a chance like this. I was very proud to be able to stand on that field with other athletes from different high schools that were very vigorous in football. Before the game started, the west side trainers filled up the water and Gatorade coolers. Then we began preparing the football players by taping their ankles and wrists. The crowd started showing up in the stands and eventually we got introduced before the game started. By the end of the game there were no injuries in the game and the west side I had lost. When the trainers started packing the equipment we used during the game, there was an injury in the stands. The lady had broken her
Finally, the day has come, October 25th. Our game was against the Washington Wizards at 7:30p.m. I didn’t realize the whole first quarter has passed at the score of 32-20 with Portland leading. Coach looks at Presley and I and says “ get in there.” We look at each other and nod at our chance to play. “Let’s do our best,” I say to Presley. He nods in agreement.
Hey guys, today marked a really rough day in history for the past, present, and future. It is when World War 1 started. It is July 28, 1914. It was a rough day because it is when Germany, Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria, and Ottoman Empire fought against Great Britain, France, Russia, Italy, Romania, Japan, and the United States. They went in to fight for political, economic, and social impact the Great War had on the United States. Some things that increased during the Great War was manufacturing, production, and efficiency.
On this one gorgeous day in the small community of Cotopaxi. There was a battle about to go down. The battle was going to be between Paxi and Cheraw. You could cut the tension with a knife. This day was going to be a rough one and everyone could tell. This team that we were play were good in their conference and their conference was way better than ours. This was our last regular season game and this one did not rank us any higher or lower.
My hands get clammy and emotions are running wild. When they call my team we all run out frantically and realize there's one last chance with this team, one last chance with this routine, some athletes final shot at the state championship! The lights gleam bright and it is time to do my job and put faith in my team to do the same. Two minutes and thirty seconds go by and that's the end of it all… walking off the mat knowing I did the best I can do and the rest is in the judge's hands. Sitting at awards, waiting desperately as they call each team third, second, and first place goes to Carrollton high school! The drop of my stomach and the tears that ran down my face. I was so shocked all the fame and victory made all the hard work worth
A game alumni, students, and faculty all have marked on their calendars. Every year, a season is deemed successful with a section final win against our enemies, Benilde St. Margaret’s. We are the Vikings and they are the Packers because we go to battle in the regular season, but whoever wins the section final wins the war. We are fighting to protect our coveted rights as the most premier lacrosse team in Minnesota. Literal blood, sweat, and tears are poured onto the field at the beginning and the conclusion of the game. A previous loss to Benilde, on my eighteenth birthday, lit the flame in my stomach for a more connected and confident team leading to success for the rest of the season. The media forever playing devil’s advocate with the Blake boys lacrosse team because apparently everything is handed to the privileged, not earned. The blazing sunlight of the game baked our emotions into motivation, pushing the team to retaliate on the field in order to prove the Blake Bears are the CEOs of
I looked forward to games, since I had played about every inning from Little League through sophomore year, and that became the status quo. So, in my junior year, at the start of the varsity season, with the snow from the long New England winter finally melted, I was ready. There was a senior who was already a skilled first baseman, but the cleats were on, my glove was ready. I had worked hard in the off-season, done well in practice and intra-squad scrimmages and looked forward to showing off my skills. On Opening Day, I sat. Then the next game, I sat. And so it began, the out-of-my-control waiting. Glancing over to first base, a range of unfamiliar emotions washed over me. Watching my team struggle defensively and offensively, with seemingly every ball going into the opposing mitt, while bright yellow numbers ticked up onto the visitor’s part of the scoreboard. I could only wait. Emotions of confusion, bitterness, and anxiety consumed me. The season wore on: another bus ride, another game, another
CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, echoes through my head as I walk to the middle of the mat. "At 160lbs Aidan Conner of La Junta vs. Rodney Jones of Hotchkiss." All I can think of is every bead of sweat, every drip of blood, every mile, every push up, every tear. Why? All of this: just to be victorious. All in preparation for one match, six minutes. For some these six minutes may only be a glimpse, and then again for some it may be the biggest six minutes of their life. Many get the chance to experience it more than once. Some may work harder and want it more than others, but they may never get the chance. All they get is a moral victory. Every kid, every man comes into the tournament with a goal. For some is to win, for some is to place, others are just happy to qualify. These six minutes come on a cold frigid night in February at a place called the Pepsi Center. Once a year this gathering takes place when the small and the large, the best of the best, come to compete in front thousands of people. I am at the Colorado State Wrestling Championships.
As soon as we knew it that buzzer buzzed and it was time to start the game. I wasn’t nervous. I always get nervous before or during a game because I might mess up or something like that but, this time I wasn’t and I was surprised. Since all the action was on the right of the field nothing was happening on my side for the first quarter of the game. My friend Lily though, shot a goal for us and it had been the first since the Fairborn game. We all gathered around Lily and told her good job. Throughout the game first quarter I started to realize that the refs where calling bad calls. Sometimes we were the one that were supposed to throw in the ball but, they said it was the other teams throw in. We didn’t let that get to us though. We played out hardest. I remember It was really hard and I kept sweating so much. I don’t like sweat for some reason. So I kept trying to wipe it off with my
The team was ready, we had been working extremely hard for the past seven months for this. We were all in great shape and very rested. A few of the returning players were meeting me at my house to carpool to the final game of the state championship tournament. Everyone knew that the hard work had paid off when we won the semi-final game the preceding day.
Game Time: we walked onto the field with our heads high and our pride shining. The strut in our walk should that we would not back down to anyone, or anything, there would be no opponent to large or any weather to ferocious to cause us to lose this game.
Up until the second quarter, I had done little but prance around and support my teammates. Finally, I got my first bit of action. I saw the running back was right next to me, and I knew what to do. I reached out, and all of a sudden the running back is on the ground. I felt a sudden burst of