Anxiety Vs. Smiley-Personal Narrative

This was just a few words, but it had a deeper meaning when my dad sat me down. Soccer has always been a driving passion of mine, so when I got to high school my dad explained to me the week before tryouts how I would have to try my hardest and not give up on something I loved. Soccer was the best thing to happen to me when I made the team; soccer allowed for me to meet so many amazing and talented girls; soccer made it possible to get out of this shell I built around myself, and even find my best friend. Stepping onto that large open green field, the humidity that hung the air making my jersey stick to my back, my too tight of cleats that were doubled socked were something I loved feeling, and it wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t commit myself to my activity, and drive my desire

Yet my apprehension prevailed as I continued to fear getting put in the game in case another player was injured. I was still afraid of making mistakes and getting blamed by screaming coaches and angry teammates. Sometimes these fears came true. During my sophomore season, my position led me to play in the varsity games on many occasions. On such occasions, I often made mistakes. Most of the time the mistakes were not significant; they rarely changed the outcome of a play. Yet I received a thorough verbal lashing at practice for the mistakes I had made. These occurrences only compounded my fears of playing. However, I did not always make mistakes. Sometimes I made great plays, for which I was congratulated. Now, as I dawn on my senior year of soccer, I feel like a changed person.

God damns all liars, In arthur Miller’s play The Crucible Many Characters lie to save their name, to get property, to get rid of a bad neighbor or to even steal someone’s spouse. Millers characters Prove that sins like Pride, deceit and envy lead to unfortunate consequences.

Soccer always been a great part of my life. I play it since, I was three years old. My greatest moment was the final game of the district tournament. It was the first time for me and my teammates to make it that far. I had to act like I got it all under control since I was the captain of the team but I was shaking until the game started. The game went by fast, it was the minute 89 and it was a draw one to ne after my friend’s header goal from the corner kick. We had two minutes before we go to extra time and everyone in the field already so exhausted. The other team had the ball, and I was at the center back, I ran and cut the ball from the other team, I began running as fast as I can. I was not sure either to pass it or keep

While writing this book it sends a messages for a call of help in a world where it has gone from bad to worse. Women potentially seeking involvement for not only the female body but for equal rights amongst all living individuals. The eagerness to fight back has risen to power and proved that it is time to take a stand. Violence isn’t also the answer in cases but women fighting up against men? There’s no fair fight in that. A distinct portray atwood displays in the handmaids tale shows one of the women finally fighting back physically is the case of a rape. On page 278 “His face is cut and bruised, deep reddish-brown bruises; the flesh is swollen and knobby, stubbled with unshaven beard. This doesn’t look like a face but like an unknown vegetable,

It was a cold day in November: an icy breeze blowing across a green soccer pitch in Jackson, Mississippi. Fans along the sideline cheering on the Jackson Elite FC. I took the field feeling the pressure of gameday bearing down like i had weights on my shoulders. This was the first time I had every started as a forward in a soccer game. The referee brings the ball to midfield and sets it down. I hear my parents cheering from the sidelines. The opposing team kicks off and the game is on.

The anxiety started when we checked into the hotel. I was in Syracuse with three of my best friends, ready to have a weekend full of exhilaration and laughter.

Last year, I had been one of three sophomores to make the varsity soccer team. I was proud to be part of the elite group and motivated by the opportunity to play with the upperclassman. The season kicked off with a promising start. Coach gave me encouraging feedback and significant playing time as he tried to determine my position on the field. Game after game, I kept earning more opportunities

I had always loved soccer and it had been my favorite sport since age four. When I turned eleven years old I joined a club named Indiana Elite which was very competitive and “hardcore” persay. We had practice three days a week on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. I was very nervous to attend my first practice on my team

Soccer had taught me many things in life. It showed me the significance of family in all forms, to be responsible and appreciative of my peers and elders. I will never forget that day, no matter how old I am, because I had learned an essential lesson, to never give

I was shaking from nervousness. I knew that I had to give it everything I had for the sake of my team. I ran out on the field. As the ball was being played on the other side, I prayed that I would have an opportunity to help my team. Not a minute later, the ball flew up over me and the rest of the offense. One of the midfielders dashed to the ball. She ran down into the corner and passed it to the middle. I stood there, anticipating the drop and ready to score. As the ball fell to the ground, I took a small step back. I quickly got my balance, and shot as hard as I could. Time seemed to stand still as the ball flew through the air, over the goalies hands, and right into the corner of the goal. I had done it. I had broken the tie. My whole team rushed over to give me a hug. I was almost crying from joy. I could hear my parents and the other fans cheering for me from the sidelines. Shortly after we took the lead yet again, the final whistle blew. We had

“Will Jig have the abortion and stay with the man; will Jig have the abortion and leave the man; or will Jig not have the abortion and win the man over to her point of view?” (Hashmi, N, 2003). These are the three different scenarios that have been seriously considered in Ernest Hemingway’s short story, “Hills like White Elephants”.

We walked together to the field, the spikes on the bottom of my cleats clicking with each step on the parking lot pavement. A huge field with onlookers filling the bleachers on the far side came into view, lit up by the soft evening light. I spotted the girls on my team and my tired looking grey-haired coach. Me and my dad split up, me going to warm up with my team and my dad going to sit with the team parents. As I was passing with my teammates I watched the opposing team carefully. I observed how neat their drills were and how accurate their shots and passes were. They all looked so athletic and that really made me doubt myself. How was I supposed to prove to everyone that I was a good player if I had to play against a team this good? What if I mess up and the other team completely destroys my team? The loud buzzer that ended the warm ups sounded and both teams went to their side of the field. My coach called today’s starters out, and luckily he didn’t choose me. Relieved, I went to go sit on one of the hard metal chairs they provided for the teams on the sidelines. The chairs were uncomfortable but that didn’t bother me. I had other things on my mind. I sat shivering watching the events of the game

We were all set up on the field ready for the game, I remember closing my eyes forabout a minute before the game started, that minute felt like 10 years, I froze and thought aboutmyself when I was 3 years old and how I first fell in love with the game and how my ultimatedream was to become pro, I remember the hours of pain and suffering I put myself through tobecome the player I was today, I remembered waking up at 4 a.m. on school mornings to go forruns so that I could run longer in games,I remember skipping parties and hanging with friendsso that I could train, I remembered everything, but one thing truly hit me was how much soccerwas there for me growing up my parents argued a lot and when I was feeling sad and lonely Iwould go train at the fields and it would hell my sorrow. Growing up in a household when yourparents are constantly fighting is difficult, but soccer was my out lit it was my therapist. Duringthe time of their divorce I felt like I had no one but soccer so I decided I need to give back to thegame. Soccer did so much for me, so I wanted to prove to it that it wasn't a waste of time andthat I would make something out of the game. I opened my eyes and didn't feel human anymore Ididn't feel in control of my own body the sport had taken over me for the better. I remembermoments when I was running and it didn't even feel like my feet were touching the floor

My first experience with soccer came when I was 10 years old, accompanied by my mom. My heart beating so hard, excited to finally play for a soccer team. Kids all around me all in love with the game, with grass so green and freshly cut, looking too perfect to be real. With a brand new soccer ball, two goals set up on each side, who couldn't resist playing all day. I was speechless. Recalling holding hands with my mom, as we walked towards the field, a memory I would never forget. Throughout the game my mom would cheer me on, she was my biggest supporter.