I wonder if a blade of grass feels pain. I rest my face against its contemporaries, and observe as the wind whips it here and there. I hum in my head a jazzy tune to which it dances. It is so carefree, unaware; indifferent to the events which transpire around it. Just a minute glimmer of green rooted into the ground. Mocking me. It dances blissfully while I lie aching on the field. It has no expectations. None. Other than to exist. I wish I were a blade of grass. I would have no challenges, no battles, no heartbreak, no pain. I could just exist until I am uprooted and blown away into the wind.

I stare irritably at the blade of grass and spot a bead of dew dripping down its side. I debate whether this water droplet would be a suitable mirror for my blade of grass. Staring into it, I realize that it is not a mirror for the grass but for me. I visualize my image in this dew droplet, and realize how pathetic I must appear, lying on my stomach in the middle of the field, contemplating whether I would be better off as a blade of grass. It must think I am insane. So much opportunity was given to me; to think, to explore, to live, and I take it for granted. I am lucky; I could have been a blade of grass.

As I begin to regain my senses, I realize where I am. The game around me has not stopped, but my coach and my teammates are demanding that I get back on my feet. Now is the time to make a choice: to remove myself from the game completely or to fight until the last whistle blows. I take one last glance at my vegetative friend and pick myself up off the ground. I still feel the dull throbbing pain of the bruise in my thigh from the last tackle, but I trudge on relentlessly. I find the girl who had knocked me down; she has the ball. I track her as she makes her way down the sideline, towards my goalkeeper. Before she drops her head and positions herself to shoot, I move in from the other side of the field and throw all my strength into the tackle. The sound on impact was like a crack of a whip, a crashing of a locomotive, the drop of a bomb, so beautiful and terrifying that the stadium falls silent out of sheer awe. This time I emerge victorious. Today I am not a blade of grass. Today I am bruised, I am beaten. Today I am strong, I am resilient. Today I am a fighter. Today I am a victor.