The Day I Quit Soccer Forever

I used to be pretty good at soccer. Or so I thought. Anyway, my team was supposed to play this big game last spring. It was a sunny day, and everyone was excited except for me, I had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach all morning. The field looked beautiful with the sun shining down on the green grass, but I couldn't shake off this sense of dread. During warm-ups, I kicked the ball around okay, but when we started playing the game, it felt like everything was happening to me in slow motion. Every pass I made went wrong. Every time someone shot towards our goal, I froze up and watched helplessly as the ball flew past. Afterward, I couldn't bring myself to speak to anyone on the team. All I could think about was how much I hated soccer at that moment. So the next day, I quit. It wasn’t because I stopped enjoying the sport, truth is, I still love running and kicking a ball, but something in me just snapped that day. Soccer wasn't fun anymore; it was too stressful for me. That’s why I walked off the field after the game and never looked back.