A Soccer Story Essay

Snow fluttered to the ground as Jane pulled her gold tee shirt closer to guard against the blistering tingling. Although the miniature goblins and ghouls had just collected their yearbook treats, winter was already wrapping its bitterly cold hands most her. The soccer celestial sphere sh matchless, glistening from the already melting snowflakes. Even though championship game had not yet started, the Warrior stadium overflowed with rows of eager fans, intent to be watching such an important soccer match. The line of girls marched up to the slushy field to meet their adversaries, the Panthers, shivering in their gold soccer shorts. Jane could see the opposing team glance warily at them as if the game was just a waste of their period. In every join burned the desire to win, to achieve a task never before accomplished. The Lady Warriors were on a mission to beat the Panthers for the first time in school history.The first forty-five minutes of the game went uneventfully both team s attempted to score, but the soccer ball was shuttled around the field like a ping-pong ball, aimlessly with no sense of direction. As they battled against their opponents, the harsh and brutal wind attacked the athletes. They had to win. They had to beat the cold. They had to beat the best team, and they had to bother even. Whistle blaring, halftime was declared, and the team trudged back through the icy grass, disappointed. The winter chill was unmingledly felt as their unspoken frustration took over. The team circled together and listened to their coachs encouragements. The shrill whistle sounded once again, and the team supercharged back onto the field, feeling the motivation to win, remembering Coach Smiths last words Theres nothing you girls cant do.Jane was inspired and she rushed on the field, playing like a maniac. Suddenly, an ear-splitting crack was heard and for a second, there was silence. Perhaps her excitement blind all other senses, but Jane only remembered seei ng a mist moving in her direction before she collapsed on to the snowy field, read/write head throbbing. Head bowed down in defeat, Jane could not bring herself to look for up at the crowd surrounding her. But a cave dweller clap emanated from the row of spectators, and as she lifted up her tear-streaked face, her eyes locked with those of her plausive team mates. Unsteadily, Jane stood up and the stadium resounded with cheers.The game commenced promptly the clock was ticking with no time to lose. Then, the words, the assertion, that made Janes fists clench, a single averment uttered by the rival coach That girls weak, one charge at her, and shell be down again. That girl was Jane, the queasy player, the unnerving forward, and she was enraged. Stinging pain from where the ball made contact with bare skin was quickly forgotten, even as the ugly red label remained. The biting wind whipped strands of hair in her face, and Janes eyes squinted in the icy coldness. But her min d was defiantly set she was on a mission to score.Adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream and her heart pounded quickly as she rushed down the field. Jane swiftly maneuvered the ball with exact precision, imagining the minute of arc the ball would enter the opponents goal. It was amazing how much contentment one solitary act could reward a person. One number the colour jersey of the defensive girl was coming at Janes way, ready to charge and steal the ball away. At the next instant, the incline was looking quite beautiful, sun shining, as the ball sailed swiftly into the white net. The whistle sounded shrilly and the multitude of onlookers erupted with excitement, the Warriors had defied an age old tradition, defeating the long-standing champions. The accomplishment, the pain-it made Jane lordly that day. Against the odds, the underdog emerged victorious on the battlefield.