Personal Narrative: My First Hockey Game

SOI-The purpose of this creative piece of writing is an entry from one of our hockey games from tournament. I have tried to use a connection to compare battle or war to hockey, to make the story become more brutal and realistic. I have written in first person to show that it is in my perspective and what I recollect from the game.

7:00am.
Game day. I was alerted violently with a deafening scream of my alarm and awoke instantly, ready to put my heart and soul into one of the toughest battles of my life. I was focused on success and nothing was going to stop me. I struggled to stop the scream of the alarm, missing the button with frail weak slaps. I raced to get myself ready, geared up in my battle clothes and fuelled my body with a scrumptious breakfast. Full as a bull, perched myself into the seat of the van, ready for an aggressive battle.

9:00am.
On the way to the arena, I loaded on top of my red and green armour, bulky plastic shin pads and a chunky rubber mouth guard to protect myself from potential battle wounds. My knees still scarred red from the battle against Botany

Downs yesterday. While in the van, I gazed into the distance of the heavy Auckland traffic. Chariots flooded the street in a sea of red from the blood thirsty brake lights. It was total chaos like lost soldiers without a commander. Never before had I seen that many cars, fighting to get to their destination. I was left thinking. Visualising. Imagining. So many thoughts about the greatness of our potential victory against Albany.

10:30am.
Heavy rain droplets pounded down, hard against rough turf. Large puddles began to surface, flooding the majority of the battle arena. It was a new experience, which the team was yet to face. I could hear weak inspiration being passed from both oppositions, all sounds dominated by the splattering of the rain. It was a miserable start to the game. The whistle blew and the battle of the teams began. Sticks could be heard hacking aggressively against each other as they fought for possession of the ball. Mini battles took place fighting for unattended space. I sprinted into a clear gap, escaping the opposition, fighting for survival. Within the first few minutes, the leader of our team gained possession of the ball and fought many attacking men to intrude the enemy’s base. He weaved through the last defender and shot the ball straight at the throne, missing the king, but bang on target. The whistle screamed as the ball hit the back of the net and the goal was awarded.

11:00am.
At half time the rain continued, however it had killed our motivation.

It began to drain our energy and flood our minds with frustration from the referee’s terrible decisions. The frustration mentally affected our positivity and dampened our performance. I could hear groans and moans from members in our team sounding like dying screams of wounded war heroes. My muscles were in agonising pain from fighting for possession and constant sprinting, putting my body on the line. I needed to surrender but couldn’t give up. I needed to continue the second half and inspire the team by helping us to gain victory. After a few strong words from the leader, we started the second half of the battle on top form. Using our young beginners to tire out the opposition, we had the advantage of more troops. It was finally our time to make the final play of the battle count, to overrule Albany and claim the

win.

11:28am.
The final battle call whistled for the remaining play of the game. We had our whole team perfectly placed for the penalty corner. One by one, we stared down the goalie like dominoes collapsing on each other. Sweat pouring off our bodies, bleeding onto the flooded turf, we were again focused for the best opportunity of the game. It was do or die. Smack! As the ball was fired onto the battlefield, my eyes created a tunnel to the goal. I sprinted like a cheetah to the right post, to create a barrier and block off the opposition. The left attacker mirrored my actions as though he was my twin. Our leader had the ball at the end of the stick and weaved through a huge hairy opposing defender. He lined up a shot of a lifetime. It was a clear shot at goal. At that moment, a small dwarf looking defender from the opposing team managed to trap the ball. All I could hear was my heart throbbed like a beating drum, pumping blood heavily around my body. My eyes were focussed on the ball. I could now hear a little voice in the back of my head. “Goal, goal, goal”. The leader lunged out and skillfully took possession back, struck at the ball and smashed it right into the back of the goal while wiping the goalie out of his position. Sound rushed through my ears. Joyful cries of happiness dominated the roar of the rain as it pounded down on the arena.

11:30am.
The final whistle blew as the battle was finally over. Victory was ours!