I walk out of the metal gym doors of EMHS,

Turn to the right,
Walk past the people fixing an old car in the shop.
The crisp, cool, fall air fills my nose.
I walk across the gravel,
Onto the grass,
And finally onto the soccer field.

I sit down on the ice cold bench,
Put my soccer bag down on the trampled, brown grass,
Lace up my yellow Adidas cleats,
Slide my dog-bitten shin guards
into my socks,
And I’m ready to play.
I’ve got a ball at my feet.
It is checkered, blue and white.
I flick it up,
And start juggling,
Keeping it in the air as long as I can.

Now practice starts, 
Cones scattered all over the field.
Coach calls us over to the sideline.
All 14 of us.
We jog,
And we stretch.
And finally,
We can play.

Practice starts with dribbling,
Using all the surfaces of my foot,
Weaving through all my teammates.
Next is passing,
Striving to weight the ball perfectly,
Right onto someone's foot,
Utterly frustrated when they make a bad touch.
Then we shoot on goal,
When the ball hits the net,
My heart surges,
And it makes me yearn for more.

As I sprint across the field,
Calling for the ball,
Running until my legs
Feel like ice cream on a sunny day.
Sweat dripping into my mouth,
I have nothing on my mind,
Except Soccer.