All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
A Broken Obsession
“Beep Beep Beep Beeep Beeeeep,” screeches my alarm clock. I almost press snooze when I remember that today is the day when I would help crush my team’s rivals, the Terrible Titan. I jerk myself way from my bed and start running around my room. I locate my uniform and my cleats, and I throw them on my bed. I am about to start getting dressed when my mom yells up, “Ashna, five minutes till we have to leave or else we’ll be late.”
“All right, Mom be right down!” I yell back, starting to panic. I quickly get ready and run downstairs. I eat. I run to the car. When my mom finally gets in the car, I complain, “Hurry up we’re playing the Terrible Titan today.”
“Ashna, you aren’t going to be able to play soccer all your life, and that’s all you seem to care about,” my Mom says.
“Can’t we talk about this after the game?” I ask.
“Fine,” my mom replies and we remained silent the rest of the way to the field.
When we finally get to the field, I sprinted over to my team, and while I catch my breath my coach asks, “Ashna, where have you been. We’re about to start? Never mind. Do you have everything?”
I am about to say yes when I remember I forgot my shin guards on my bed. I reply, “Yes,” anyway, and I keep telling myself I could make it through the game without getting hurt.
“Ok, team, let’s crush the Titan,” my coach says at the end of her pep talk. Then the ref blows the whistle to signal us to get on the field. I take up my position. Then the ref blows the whistle to signal that we should start. Right off the bat we get the ball and score three consecutive points.
Finally it is the end of fourth quarter. The scores are tied the next team to score will probably win. The Titan have the ball, and they are quickly approaching the goal Before I knew it I am too. I run faster than I know I can, and just as one of the Titan is about to kick the ball into the net, I dash in front of them and kick it away. But the Titan didn’t notice and her foot kept coming. At first I thought it was no big deal. I might get a bruise, but my shin guards will stop it.
Just a second before she connects with my leg, I remember I didn’t have my shin guards. I had left them on my bed. I desperately try to move out of the way, but I was too slow. I feel so stupid as I collapse, and the sound of bones shattering and ligaments snapping echoes over the field just before I black out.
I come to and see my team mate and best friend’s face along with my mom and my annoying little sister. “Mykala, is that you?” I asked in a voice no louder then a whisper.
“Ya it’s me,” she answered.
“What happened? Where am I?” and about a zillion other questions that come flying out of my mouth.
“Ashna, don’t freak out.” I started to panic as Mykala continued, “but you’re in the hospital.”
“Why,” I started to ask, but a loOk in her eyes stops me halfway through the word.
“Ashna what is the last thing that you remember?” she asks, concern filling her voice.
“I remember the game,” I say.
“How far into it?” she asks.
“It was fourth quarter. The score was tied. The Titan had the ball, and they were almost to the goal when I kicked the ball away from them. Then all I remember was the pain.” I say, “Can you tell me the rest?”
“All right, first off your shinbone shattered and you probably need surgery.”
“What, why?” I exclaimed.
“Can I continue?” I nod, and she starts again, “Ok, second we won, but I wish we hadn’t.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“When you got hurt,” she started,”everyone on our team was enraged. The coaches started fighting, but the ref wouldn’t do anything about it. All he did was tell us to finish the game.” She paused then continued, “We toOk all the rage we felt from your injury, and at once we stole the ball, and as an impenetrable wall we ran side by side. I was the one with the ball and about 5 ft away I kicked it harder than I ever had in my life, and won the game.”
Just as she finishes her story a doctor comes in and says, “It’s time.”
“Time for what?” I asked. Nobody answered Mykala gets up and leaves. The nurse takes a shot, and sticks it in my arm. I feel my consciousness slipping.
2 hours later
I wonder “Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital, remember?” I see Mykala’s face smiling at me.
“Unfortunately,” I sighed.
“How are ya feelen?” she asks.
“Well,” I start, “my leg hurts. I feel really dizzy, and I can’t move.
“So pretty good?” she asks.
“Ya, pretty normal,” I say, and at once we both start laughing.
“You know you just had surgery right?” she asks between laughs.
“No,” I reply.
We were both quiet after that. “Ashna, can I ask you something?” Mykala asks.
“Sure,” I say already knowing what it is.
“Why didn’t you have your shin guards on?”
I pause for a moment then answer; “You know how I have an alarm clock that only goes off Monday - Friday?” she nods, “Well, the day before the game I had forgotten to set it. When I woke up the next day and looked at the clock, I realized my mistake. I quickly started to gather everything I would need when my mom called up, “Five minutes till we have to leave.” at that point I had started to panic. I quickly got dressed and ran downstairs, not realizing that my shin guards were still in my room, and I think you know the rest.”
“Ok,” she replied, “but when you got to the game, why didn’t you tell someone?”
“Because,” I whispered, “I thought that they wouldn’t let me play.”
“Oh, Ashna, why?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered.
“Was it worth it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Can we finish this conversation when I get home?” I plead.
“Fine,” she sighed, “get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow when you’re at your house.”
Just as she leaves a doctor comes in. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Ok, but my leg hurts,” I said.
“Well, that’s normal considering what’s happened,” he says.
“When can I play soccer again?” I blurted out.
“Not for sometime,” he replied.
“Can I play before the end of the season?” I asked.
He shakes his head and says, “You are going to be crutches for around 2 months. After that you need to have physical therapy for about 2 months before you can do anything really physical.”
“So I can’t do anything for like 4 months!!!” I ask.
“That’s just an estimate it could be more, and it could be less,” he says. Then he leaves the room.
I panic and try to get up, but for some reason I fall asleep. When I wake up, I’m in my bedroom. I look around and tell myself that my shin isn’t shattered and that it was all just a bad dream. Then Mykala walks in and says, “Hey you’re finally awake. Now we can finish our little conversation.” And all of a sudden it hits me that it wasn’t a dream it was real.
“I know,” I say, “but I don’t remember where we ended.”
“I think we ended with me asking you if it was worth it,” she says. “So was it?”
“No no it wasn’t,” I sighed, “but do you want to know what’s the worst thing? I did this to myself. I was so focused on the game that I didn’t pay any attention to my safety. If I had just told someone that day I would have had to sit out, but I would be playing the rest of the season,” I say as I start crying.
“Its all right,” Mykala says as she brings me into a hug and comforts me as I cry onto her shoulder. “There is more to life than soccer.”
“Like what?” I ask between sobs, “All that I know how to do is play soccer. What am I suppose to do now?” I continue as I pull myself away from her tears running down my cheeks.
“I think that is for you to decide,” Mykala says, “but know this. I will stand by you in any way I can. Here,” she says as she hands me a legal pad that she pulls out of a bag I just notice “try writing. I’ve found that writing a poem or even just writing can help you figure out your life.” Just then a car horn honks, “That’s my mom, gotta go. Just try to write. I’ll come by later,” With that, she leaves.
When she leaves, I set the legal pad on my nightstand and try to sleep, but I can’t. Her words are echoing in my mind. After about thirty minutes, I sit up, grab the legal pad and a pencil, and start writing. The next day when Mykala comes I show her what I wrote and say, “You were right.”
“About what?” she asks.
“Everything,” I reply, “so thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she says, “but I’m sure you would have done the same thing for me, or else what are friends for?”
I nod my head and say jokingly, “true so true.”
“Hey, so now you have something to do now and you aren’t obsessed with soccer,” Mykala says.
“Yep,” I reply, “and it’s all thanks to you.”
Now I’m healed back on my team, and now I write every chance I get because writing reminds me of who I am. Also most importantly I’m not obsessed with soccer and I realize that I learned a valuable lesson, and one that I won’t ever forget: that nothing is more important than your health and your safety.