Personal Narrative Essay: The Sartell Varsity Soccer Team

883 Words 4 Pages
With an expressive hiss the door slid open. The cold, moist weather sprinted in the door painting goose bumps over every inch of our bodies. To stay warm, we had to keep any unprotected skin tucked away from the harsh October weather. The Sartell Varsity Soccer Team and I slowly inched our way off the bus in an attempt to stay as long as possible in the warmth. Taking my first step onto the wet cement sidewalk, I was battered with frigid snow and strong winds. I had only just stepped foot on the Benilde–Saint Margaret’s Soccer field when I felt the nervousness penetrating my spine. My knees felt weak and I felt light headed. I saved myself from unconsciousness by paying attention to the current soccer game. Saint Thomas Academy was destroying …show more content…
The field was used for football practice and it was tucked away from any prying eyes. The frigid snow had managed to seep through my warm-ups and send a second wave of massive shivers throughout my body. I reached into my bag and pulled out my leather cleats. The leather felt smooth and frosty to my fingers. I then stepped onto the practice field and every nervous chill and fear drifted away and the love to play soccer was paramount. Although my feet sunk into the sludgy ground, my mind went blank and my feet moved with the soccer ball with no recollection of any external forces. It wasn’t until ten minutes later that I tucked away the soccer ball and became aware of the atrocious weather again. The cold weather impeded any muscular movement to every player on the team. The team and I had to be forced away from the field and onto the bus to warm up before the game. The bus warmed us up enough to prepare for the game that lies ahead against …show more content…
Tears stumbled down my face and blended with the snow-covered turf. I made my way out to the center of the field. The field revolved around me as I attempted to breathe in the smells of the game and remember the sights and sounds of my last soccer game. Kempton Schneider walked up to me with tears imprinting streaks down his face. “It’s beautiful isn’t it”, Kempton whispered with a depressing stutter. He and I made our way off the field against the murmuring wind and light snow. Snow melted on our faces and removed any trace of our despondent emotions.
I took a step onto the bus and looked back one last time at the Benilde–Saint Margaret’s Soccer field where I played my last soccer game. The images, sights, and smells of my last soccer game at Benilde–Saint Margaret’s. The wave-like roar of the crowd, the frigid snow sticking to my warm-ups, the icy air breathing in and out of my lungs with heavy breaths, and the final score illuminated in bright red letters on the scoreboard. I turned my head and slowly made my way onto the bus and took my seat. It was going to be a long ride

Related Documents