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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2178717
by KT
Rated: E · Essay · Personal · #2178717
My narrative about lacrosse and the impact it has had on me

Last Name 3

My Name

E. Doyle

English 11AP (5)

7 January 2019

Lacrosse: A Game and a Lifestyle

I was little--about 8 and a half. I was active and energetic. I was outgoing and eager to be friends with everyone. I tried so many different activities and sports, but I did not love any of them. Gymnastics was not for me. Ballet was not either. Field hockey was alright. Basketball was just fine too. Soccer was a little better. But I had yet to find a perfect fit. The sport for me. Little to my knowledge at the time, that was about to change. I would soon find the perfect sport for myself.

My Dad took me to his truck, we hopped in, and he drove to Kelly Sports. I jumped out of the car, excited to enter the store. I ran to the entrance, and struggled to open what felt like a 1,000 pound door. Eagerly, I sprinted, following my Dad, towards the back of the store, and straight to the lacrosse sticks. My eyes were instantly drawn to a silver stick with a baby pink head and hot pink and bright white strings. Being as little as I was, the stick reached about just under my chin.

I quickly yanked the stick off its hook, turned to my Dad, and said, "I like this one! Can I get it?"

Anticipating his response, I had a smile on my face that stretched from ear to ear.

My Dad replied, "yes, you can!"

I was going to get my very own lacrosse stick. I patiently waited in the checkout line, for what felt like a decade. Finally, we got to the cashier and paid for my brand new stick. I was beyond excited and eager for my first lacrosse practice, so I could use my stick.

Although I did not know it at that time, lacrosse would become a large part of my life from that point on. That pink lacrosse stick would soon become an extension of my arm, being an important part of my life. Countless lacrosse teams: rec, school, and travel. Countless hours of lacrosse practice. Countless lacrosse games. Countless hours spent in the car, driving to lacrosse tournaments. Second grade was just the beginning. Thanks to my pink stick, the lacrosse field soon became a second home to me.

Kelly green, plastic grass and small chunks of rubber recycled from tires cover the ground. White, yellow, and blue lines mark the boundaries of several different sports. The blue lines are the only ones that matter to me. The lacrosse lines. A home and away bench sit on the far sideline. Fan bleachers occupy the other side. Energy and excitement fill the air. I walk across the field with my teammates. The clock reads 25 minutes--the amount of time we have to warm up. We drop our bags behind the bench and organize them into a straight line. We grab our sticks, goggles, and mouthguards, and we begin our warmup. After a long routine of dynamic stretches, followed by static stretching, we start shuttles.

"Right hand up, now left, ground balls, and quicksticks," Coach Saint yells.

Shuttles are followed by a few quick game-like situations. The clock now reads 1 minute. We gather the balls and head off the field towards the home bench.

The scoreboard buzzes, signaling warm ups are over and it is gametime. Loud, forceful, resounding--the voice of the announcer is heard throughout the stadium. He reads the lineups, starting with the away team.

Then he says, "Now for your (my school)".

About halfway through the list of names, I hear him say, "Number 12, midfield, (my name)".

The coaches, smiling with hope, are eager to see what I am capable of. I run through a line of my teammates, high-five my coach, shake the other team's coach's hand, and then run to the end of the line of my teammates, who are standing at center field. After the lineups are finished being read, the national anthem is played, as we link arms and sing along. The anthem comes to an end and we run off the field. We say a quick cheer, and then we take the field. The feeling of 1,000 butterflies fills my stomach, the excitement and the nerves hit me all at once. The referee sets up the draw and blows their whistle. Just like that, the game begins, and my butterflies dissipate.

Within those 30 seconds, from the time I took the field to the whistle being blown, all my worries and thoughts disappeared. The only thing that mattered from that point to an hour later when the game ended was playing my heart out. The world around me and all my thoughts did not matter during those 60 minutes. The rest of my life outside of lacrosse paused. I was just happy to be running up and down the field burying the ball in the back of the net. For that hour, the only thought in my mind was we have to win this game. The exact reason why lacrosse is so important to me--as soon as I step on the field, the world around me comes to a standstill. Lacrosse takes my mind off of everything. Lacrosse relieves my stress and makes me feel good. Lacrosse is my natural high. That one stick my Dad bought for me in second grade helped me find the perfect sport for myself, which has played a role in my life ever since.

© Copyright 2019 KT (katies12 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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