Personal Narrative: The Elite Soccer Team

Finally, tryouts were over. The season ahead would provide a clean slate, an opportunity for a new beginning. Although the Bulldogs faced a challenging schedule, our coach was confident we would again attain the championship spot in our Division. Despite my anticipation of a successful season, lingering anxieties nagged at my assurance.

Last year, as one of three sophomores selected for varsity soccer team, I was delighted to be amongst the elite group and motivated by the opportunity to play with the upperclassman. The season kicked off with a promising start, complete with many new experiences, as the coach tried to determine my position. I received encouraging feedback and considerable playing time. Game after game, my opportunities to play continued developing, my confidence soared, and I was making a solid contribution to the team. Then we played Notre Dame.

It was late in the second half and the score was tied when coach barked “Ava”, substituting me in for one of the starters. Almost instantly, the ball landed at my feet. Flustered by the nerves of being thrown into an intense game, I panicked, kicking the ball directly to the other team. I attempted to win the ball back, but the opposing player made it look easy as she maneuvered by and passed the ball off to her

My blunder on the field may, perhaps, have gone unnoticed by the casual fan; however, I knew my actions had cost us a crucial game. Subsequently, in the weeks that followed, we played our remaining schedule, and I assumed my new role as the Benchwarmer. Eventually, I even began to pray I would not hear my name called, in fear of messing up and failing the team again. Jubilant teammates scored and celebrated; I cheered them on as best I could, but I couldn’t share in their excitement. I put on a smiling face, genuinely proud of the team, but I knew I hadn’t contributed to the success. That one game, that one missed kick, had conquered