The Game Changer

Part 1

I breath in the humid early August air as I step onto the turf field. I feel a hand slap my butt and my teammate say, "Let's get 'em Eleanor."

I laugh and clamp my hand onto the back of Rachel's neck. "Those damn Dragons have nothing on us."

All 10 of the starters and myself and our coaches line up on the touch line to be introduced over the intercom.

"It's a beautiful day for soccer," the familiar voice bounces from the speakers above.

Once we're all introduced and have sang the national anthem, we take the field.

I stand in the direct middle of our side, for I play center-mid. The whistle blows and the action starts. Sarah immediately gets the ball and passes to Taylin who dribbles further upfield. I advance forward, keeping the team's pace.

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Thirty minutes into the game and we're up one. I've had the ball numerous times and my passes have been fairly decent.

I'm positioned up field , still in the center, wide open for a pass. Mere knocks the ball over to me. A few touches forward and I see an opponent a few feet ahead.

She's on me faster than I initially thought she'd be. I loose control of the ball and it rolls a little to the right of my body. She goes for the ball at the same time I do.

We kick the ball at the same exact time, though her kick is stronger than mine. As her strength takes the ball in her direction, my right ankle goes with it. I look down to see my foot bending towards the outside of my body in a very, very unnatural maneuver.

I fall down to the ground and the opponent leaves me in the dust. I feel myself beginning to cry. My years of training tell my body to stand back up and go get the ball, but the stabbing pain in my right ankle tells my body to crawl over to the bench.

Slowly, I stand up to see the ball hitting the back of the net, one point to the Dragons. Mere is standing beside me, half my size and wanting to help get me to the sideline.

Mere stops trying to help not even halfway across the field, realizing that truly she wasn't helping. The referee tells me to take my time and half a minute later I'm to the bench.

"Do you think your done?" Coach asks me when I stubble over the touch line.

"I don't know," I reply still in tears.

I get my water and hobble into a seat on the bench. A few minutes pass and then my coach is wrapping my foot up.

"Is that your feet or the sewer?" he comments as he takes off my socks and shinguards.

"My feet," I laugh. The whole bench joins in.

"I'm just kidding you, trying to keep you distracted."

Once done, Coach says, "If you want to go back in, let's see you run around here on the sidelines."

Getting up I hobble around the bench, dragging my foot along with me.

"Sit back down," I hear him mutter somberly.

Feeling defeat I go and stand beside my assistant coach. "I think I could still run faster than Katy," I whisper to him.