Miss Americana

Part 1

My legs hurt from squatting.

At least your thighs will look great after this, I told myself. 

I sighed and brought the camera back to my eye to take a shot. 

Whoever said photographing a soccer game was easy work was definitely lying. 

I shook my head, I'm pretty sure no one has said anything about photographing sports games. 

I stood, giving my legs a break, hearing my unused knees crack at the gesture. 

I glanced at the scoreboard. The game was in stoppage time with Atlanta winning over Orlando by 2 goals. 

The clock seemed to be moving extraordinarily slow today. Usually, I enjoyed photographing these types of games. However, it was mid-July in Florida and I'd been outside since noon. I was beyond ready to go into the cold AC. 

I moved around the field to the other side of the goal, choosing a spot right by the edge of the field. 

I squatted down, placing the camera back to my eye as the game quickly picked up the pace toward my direction. I got a few good but random pictures of the players rushing to follow the action. 

The ball was kicked out beyond the goal and the players set themselves up for a corner kick. 

I removed the camera from my eye, looking down to use these few seconds of blockage to check some of my recent photos. 

That's when it hit me. 

Literally. The ball hit me square in the face. 

My body was thrown back at the force and my camera dropped to my feet. I fell firmly on my butt, my legs giving out in their squatting position. 

One of the ball helpers crouched beside me. 

"Are you okay?" she asked. 

I nodded, however, at that very same moment I felt warm liquid begin to trickle down my nose. 

"Oh, shit," I said, pinching my nose to stop the flow. I glanced at the teen beside me. "Don't repeat that."

I could hear the fans behind me looking down at the girl who was just hit in the face with a soccer ball. 

"Is she okay?"

"That looked like it hurt."

"What happened?"

"Someone got hit with the ball."

I stood using my other hand to pull myself up. 

A small crowd has gathered around me. 

"I'm okay. It's fine really," I kept saying as the blood fell into my mouth. 

A nurse pushed through the crowd and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. 

"Come on, let's go to the back and get you cleaned up."

I nodded. 

"Oh wait," I said, stopping. "I need my camera."

The nurse repeated the information and then guided me off the field. 

--

It had only been about 10 minutes and I felt considerably better. 

I was sitting in a medical room at the stadium, sipping on orange juice. I had repeated multiple times that I was fine but no one listened. Honestly, I'm glad they didn't listen because I had been pretty lightheaded. I blamed it on the blood.