My story is about a boy named Zack who loves to play soccer, but he broke his leg during a soccer game. It tells about the day he broke his leg and what he’s feeling and what he felt when it happened.
I can feel the grass pricking my leg through my boot. I feel the ball at the tip of my fingers. I get up and stare at the net thinking off all the good times I’ve had on this field, wishing I could still play, wishing none of this ever happened to me.
My name is Zack, I’ve played soccer since I was in kindergarten. I started playing soccer because my older brother James played and I thought it was fun to play with him. I am 17 I am in my senior year of high school and its horrible. On October 21 my whole life changed.
I’m getting ready for my soccer game and it is the the biggest game of the year i’m so excited. I grab all my stuff and sprint out the door. Today we are playing our biggest rival, The Giants. I get to the field and started kicking my ball around and warming up. I’m watching the other team they’re big, they have hard powerful kicks, and they’re quick. The game’s about to start and I get in my position. “FWEEEE” the whistle goes off the game begins. By halftime the score is 6-6 we are tied. The second half begins and I get the first goal in the second half.
There is 5 minutes left the score is 11-12 we are down by one, we have the ball and the ball is kicked into to play. I get the pass right outside the goal box and I swing my leg back to score and “CRACK” I hit the ground. I am in so much pain I begin cry, my leg feels like there is a hundred knives stabbing into it. I can’t move I just laid there, my coaches came running to me I told them what hurt and they carried me to a cart that drove me and my mom to our car. As my mom was driving I was hoping I just sponged something. When we arrived to the hospital we got straight into a room, the doctor took an xray of my leg. When the x-rays came back he told me my leg was broken in two places. I cried not because of the pain but because I knew I wasn’t going to be able to play soccer for the rest of my senior year. On my way home we sat in silence when I got home I went straight to bed.
The next day I went out to the field I laid in the grass and I could feel the grass pricking my leg through my boot. I feel the ball at the tip of my fingers. I get up and stare at the net thinking off all the good times I’ve had on this field, wishing I could still play, wishing none of this ever happened to me.