"He shoots. He scores!"
That's what you want to hear at basketball or soccer games. But no one has ever said that about me. In practices I've scored a couple goals, but never in a game.
It was the last game of the season. We were down 2-1. Everything is happening on the other end of the field. The wind is blowing. But then I hear it. The kick. Loud and sharp. The ball is soaring right towards me. This is my chance. I have to take it. My couch. My dad. My teammates. They all say, "Run!" and run is what I do, straight towards the other goal.
I think how proud my dad will be if I make this goal. I have to make this goal. For him, for my team and mostly for me.
Swerve right, swerve left. I'm getting there. I get past the forwards. The crowd is cheering. I have two more lines of defense to get through. I swerve left, then right. They don't know what to do. I run faster now. Instead of swerving, I run straight. I surprise even myself about what I am accomplishing.