Personal Narrative: The Game Against The Philomath Warrior

It took me a second to realize they were waiting for me. They were, for once, looking at me to call a play. I glance up at the clock, it holds at few minutes left, but I see the score and the other team is only down a few points. I quickly think of one of our plays, “Let’s run silver,” I say, “make sure to keep the ball moving and press on defense.” We break from our huddle and get into our positions.

The referees came over and checked if we all had our proper pads on and told us the rules that there would be no profanity, racial slurs or anything to demoralize the other players. The refs then said “let's have a clean game and good luck to you, the game starts in 5 minutes”. I knew that we were a pretty good team but the other team was a very well disciplined team as our coach described earlier in the week during the scouting film. The game clock said 2 minutes, that meant 2 minutes till kickoff. The other team was going to be good but that wasn't going to take me out of my game.

Possession was the one thing on everyone’s mind. Time was evaporating, the other team and their fans started to get optimistic. The buzzer announced the end of the competition and the roar from our opponents deafened cries from our team and our fans. We had lost the first game for our program in fourteen years.

In my dazed state I was harshly awoken by a yank of my arm almost out of socket as I was pulled up. I searched for a comforting gaze from a teammate or coach something to reassure my fantasy that this was not my fault, but rather as looked at my coach my gut wrenched with disappointment as his disapproving scowl pierced my heart. I realized that this play would be my last that season, and I had forever marked my performance with a brand of failure. While on the sideline, the faces of coaches, players, and my parents occupied my thoughts and altered my reality. However as this final judgement on my performance was handed down, the cause for my failure was that I prepared for only what I anticipated.

A sense of jubilation ran across my body while having a stomach full of butterflies was with me as we did our team cheer for the first time before our first game. The coach gave the starting line-up, I was not in the starting eleven. I expected this because I was in fact one of the new players. The referee blew the

This uncertainty stays with me while I take the sideline and the starters take the field. With each growing second I get more nervous and nervous, I’m starting to dread the moment I step on the field. Players begin to step off the field being subbed out by their fellow teammates. I'm now the first one in line as a see a tired soul jog off the field. Coach slaps my back and pushes me onto the turf.

The players on the opponent 's team were huge they looked like monsters about to crush us. After the coaches were done doing the roster check we shook hands with the other team and headed onto the field. The coaches got the teams hype and everyone got set for kickoff I am there (corner and kick returner). The team kicked the ball off and oh no I dropped the open kick off

We had to move the benches all while trying to get prepared for the game. Coach Troy was running late as usual coach Nick was late for the first time and we were trying to warm up without him and get a handle on what to do about the field. While we waited for the coach to get there we took things into our own hands we found someone working and asked them to set up the goals but it was to late to paint lines so we just put cones up, From getting set up we did our warm

The clock hit six minutes left in the second quarter, which meant it was time to head over to the end zone and get lined up for the performance. As I got off the bleachers, I stretched forgetting that our 20 year old wool,

the whistle blew from the nearby referee, temporarily drowning out my ears. There was a foul made by the rival team. Relieved, my team rapidly set up for the penalty corner, anxious for a goal. Coaches on the sideline fumbled around with the play book, and struggled to get the correct page open. We heard a shout from the bench, “T!”

When I get close enough to the goal, I make a dump pass to one of my team members and they score. The stands are going crazy now! As I make my way back to line up, coach yells “That’s what I am talking about Meade!!”. After we scored one more goal, the score was four to three. It is the start of the fourth quarter now.

I 'm in so much pain, I thought to myself with fear that I was severely injured. “Right King Strong, Base right on one-on-one! Ready Break!” The quarterback says with confidence. I push through the agony as I get to the line of scrimmage and get back into a stance.

Thinking the person means no harm until he starts speed walking towards me then I became alarm. It was very dark in the alley, turning my head to see if the dark figure was behind me but he disappears from sight. Feeling sense of relief, I start to slow back down to my regular pace because my feet was hurting me. I took a short cut from the houses because it will get me home quicker, patches of only dirt

So, I'm not going to lie, I was following those 3 pigs home. It was deep, deep into the woods and I was feeling a little hungry and didn't feel like going back home. So, I thought I'd have a little snack and since I was in the mood for meat, those pigs were the perfect choice for me. I was waiting behind a tree for the perfect time to get them, until I heard screaming and crashing inside the house.

My Dad and I had searched for about 4 more long miserable hours. We did not seem to even come close to finding him like we thought we had when we saw the blood. It started to rain that was not good, not good at all, the rain will wash all the blood away. We searched for another half an hour of aching feet and soaking wet clothes. Sadly we did not find him and I still think to this day what it would have been like to bring a kill that home.