Early one morning I woke up and got my soccer gear on. I have butterflies in my stomach, I wonder how we will play today. Its my last game with my favorite team, the older girls. I love to play with them because they challenge me. I was sad to leave them but they had to go play high school and i couldn’t play with them. I love the feeling of my soccer jersey on my skin. It comforts me. When i got to the field the sun was bright but the air was cool. You could tell the grass was cut the night before because you could smell the fertilizer in the ground. The grass was dewey, and the water seeped through my cleats making my toes cold. The game was starting and the ref blew his whistle loudly to start. On the field it looked like a sea of blue and yellow jerseys. At half time it was 1-0 them. We were down. I drank my yellow gatorade that tasted like lemonade. Again you heard the ref blow. We started off good and were holding the other team away from the goal. Then the game was almost over. They had got fouled in the box and got a penalty kick. I hear the coach yelling at the person to take it. Then it went silent. She took, and she scored. We had lost the game 2-0. Some of us were crying some were really sad. Everyone was hugging each other and telling them it wasn't their fault. The smell of sweat hanging in the air. The touch of hands on you. Everyone was sad. But i was extremely sad because it was my last game with the team.