Personal Narrative: My Life As A Young Soccer Player

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The ball is passed straight to a young player's feet, wearing a number 21 Barcelona jersey. He looks down at his feet and then looks up again knowing exactly what to do. The ball glued to his feet, he starts taking small touches as an indication that his challenging on the defender. The defender pools up towards him and before you know it, with incredible speed and precision he steps over the ball once and flicks the ball from the inside to the outside of his foot. The ball rolls through the defender's feet and the player continues to run with the ball after nutmegging the defender. As he listens to the chores of the crowd's cheer adrenaline goes straight to his feet like a bull chasing after the color red, only for him the color red was the back of the net. Before you know it he passes through one more player than …show more content…

Me being the youngest one I was always the last pick for the teams and was never considered to be looked upon. I had no control, no skill, and I was too small. This was a thought that I carried with me to America till the age of eleven, I guess you can call that a fixed mindset, or the belief that people “are the way they are.” As days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, soccer wasn't heard from me in years.
But like everything in life it found its way back to me like a boomerang when my friends invited me to play soccer with them. Touching the ball again gave me chills from the past which felt abnormal. The ball at my feet but my feet have no clue to what it is no matter what my eyes see. We start playing and my feet quickly engaged and the ball becomes obedience to my every command. Moving left, then right, and doing tricks with the ball that I never knew were possible. It seemed as though a new section of my brain just developed with big bolded letters written soccer, I felt so

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