The whistles, the ball, the goals. It was a Tuesday afternoon in my third grade class. I had practice for the sport that I was always so eagerly excited to play. Soccer.
I couldn't believe it was happening. I quickly dressed up appropriately for the sport and was ready to go in a split. The excitement flowing through my body made me as happy as ever. It was time for my first soccer practice ever.
I was more ready than ever. My body filling up with nervousness as we approached the field for my first practice. I keep looking out of the window of the car to see any near by soccer fields my team could be practicing at. I was scouting the area from the inside, like a hawk.
Are you excited for your practice?
I step out of the car, I say my goodbyes to my mom and see the only soccer team on the field. My soccer team. I reckoned that I didn't know any of their faces, which was fine to me. I could make new friends.
I entered the field and felt the nice short grass satisfy my running. I sprint to my team and find my coach standing by the sideline bench. He was tall and had long brown hair that moved in a wave with the wind. "Hello, I'm Coach Micheal, who might you be?" he asked me. with a slight British accent to him. "I'm Hadi." I replied nervously. "Welcome to the team Hadi!"
Hello! I'm Coach Micheal
As I greeted my teammates, my coach started off practice with a little warm up, where we just play around with the ball. He just stood there, observing our plays. I tried to make sure the coach could see that I was a good player and tried to impress him. I could feel the wind rush past me as I run around the field with the ball.