Chapter 1: What is the Greatest Part of Life?

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One thing I have been working on recently is trying to find all of the positives in life, seeing as there are quite a few negatives. Even so, I have managed to find a few. 

First of all, my soccer life. It is like a home away from home. No bullies, no annoying little sisters, no nagging parents, no nothing. Just friends and soccer. 

Second of all, school. Yes, I am one of those nerds who live for school every morning. My family is dirt poor at home, and my job at the local sports store barely brings in enough money to put food on the table, and my parents bring in the money for rent and clothes with their waiter and waitress jobs at the local Italian restaurant, "Locatelli's".

Getting out of whatever dream world that was, I started warming up for our soccer game against Thunder FC. They were our fiercest rivals and probably the most violent team you will ever play in 15-year-old club soccer. They hack at your ankles, shove you, and hit you in the face. They're awful.

I play a 10 for my team or attacking midfielder. That means I am a playmaker, box to box, defend and attack, all over the field. I pretty much get free reign, which very well suits my independence and confidence.

We started doing some passing drills, but the referee came over and said they needed to get the game started as soon as possible because they had another game coming in right after, so we all huddled up.

Our coach, Coach Tristan, began. "Listen, girls, this is it, this is the last game of our season, our championship game. Win it, we come in first in the league, lose it, we come in third in the league and lose our spot for national qualifiers. Go out there and do this, not for me, not for your parents, but for you, you deserve this!" 

Ya, I may have forgotten to mention that part.

"Heck ya, we do!" I exclaimed, being the captain and all.

Ya, I'm kind of a big deal, deal with it!

We said our cheer, which is, "Forza on 3! One! Two! Three! Forza!" And ran out to the field

The other team kicked off, and we knew it was going to be a bloodbath before it even started.

Our striker ran to challenge the ball, and the girl ripped her to the ground, no mercy in her eyes as if she was only on the field to hurt us.

The only problem is, the referee didn't call it, so for the entirety of the first half, our team was brutalized, and the whistle wasn't blown once, but we had somehow managed to not let them have a goal. Granted, we didn't have one either.

The referee blew his whistle for the first time in the game to symbolize it was halftime.

All of us were bruised already, had cuts all over us, and I didn't know if I would be able to keep going.

Is this still the greatest part of life?

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