Sitting on these cold leather seats with my lunch coming back up, not speaking a word. My thoughts make it worse. Are we going to win? I can’t screw up. I must play my best game. The single thing keeping me sane is Eminem’s pep talk. I sit, thinking the words as if they were mine. My self confidence boosts with every minute. It’s game day.
I step off the bus that once held every emotion. Silence. Nervousness. Excitement. Instantly, I’m the next Pele to play to the best of my abilities. I sit, pull the socks up to my knees and slide in bullet proof protection: my shin guards. I then lace my cleats up as if I never want to take them off. Tight and snug. It’s game day.
Finally, I step on the freshly trimmed grassland that is home to me. The sweat drips down my face like on the Gatorade commercials. With every shot taken I know were getting closer. My thoughts are taken over by Eminem. His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy/There’s vomit on his sweater already, mom’s spaghetti. Repeat. The words pump me up with every time it’s sung throughout my head. It’s game day.
I tuck in my fresh cleaned jersey. I hear my mom scream, “Let’s go girls!” I’m not alone anymore. It’s now up to my team and me. Every stride is for my team. Every tackle is to protect my goalie. Every word is to help the team. Everything is for the win. It’s game time.
The final whistle blows. The noise everyone has been waiting for. I look up. The mammoth red square at the end of the field is all I’m focusing on. Eminem is no longer in my skull. Only the thoughts of victory fill my head. We’ve done it.