My heart is pounding quickly and fiercely like a bass drum in a rap song. The blood surges through my veins, my legs feel wobbly, and my hands shake. PANIC!

I have trained for ten years for moments like this. Ever since I can remember, soccer has been a love of my life. My training started at the ripe old age of five in Saturday morning swarm ball, where everyone clustered around the ball and kicked it as far as they could. Since then, I have participated in numerous camps and hundreds of teams, including select and district teams. I have also been asked to play for a team that travels to Europe. Traveling hundreds of miles, I sweltered in the summer heat and froze in the early winter sleet. Fifty pairs of soccer shoes and millions of injuries later I find myself at this point.

Through years of determination, hard work, and frustration, I have developed a knack for scoring goals. There is no other feeling quite like scoring a goal. Ball at my feet, everything comes together: my foot, the ball, and the back of the net. It is the ultimate high.

Before this moment I had never panicked when I had a scoring opportunity. But this is my first high school game. I am breaking in on goal. The only thing in my way is the keeper. In the background I hear the clamor of my teammates and the crowd. My heart pounds and my pulse races. PANIC! Why now? I shoot. I miss. I guess high school is a different story. n