Shootout Victory

I had never before felt more anxious, nervous, excited, and energetic at the same time. Soccer had always been my favorite sport. Not only did soccer unite nations and symbolize friendship for millions around the globe, but it was also truly the beautiful game. A game packed with skill, excitement, strategy, and emotion. All of those ideas were streaming through me right now like a roaring river.

My soccer league had recently introduced an end-of-season tournament to crown a season champion. This was only the first round of the tournament, but if this was going to be the last game I played this season, it had to be the best.

I felt the wet grass brush against my ankles, still wet from the early morning dew, soaking my long soccer socks, as I waited in the center circle for the kickoff. When the whistle finally blew, it barely registered anything in my head.

Thirty minutes later, the whistle blew again for the game to stop. The score was 0-0, a frustrating and meaningless score. Now we would go in to the penalty shootout round to determine a winner. Each team would take 5 shots from the penalty spot; the team with the most goals would advance to the next round. The losing team would walk out, defeated. A go big or go home situation, my stomach seemed to be crammed to the brim with panicking butterflies.

We got off to an early lead; scoring our first two shots while our opponents had only scored one. Our next shot sailed over the goal, keeping the score at 2-1. Fortunately, they missed their shot as well, leaving me to score and set up my teammate Ricky for a game winning penalty shot.

I felt my heart pumping like a machine inside my ribcage as I walked up to the penalty spot. I took several deep breaths before striding forward to strike the ball. I did what any right-footed striker my age would do; I aimed it to the top right corner. I watched the ball sail perilously close to the goalkeeper’s fingertips, barely finding the top right corner of the net. I felt a rush of joy run through me, and I pumped my fist in the air with excitement. Now all I could do was wait.

The other team scored their next shot, but it didn’t matter as long as Ricky scored this next goal. He was the best striker on the team, he had a deadly combination of power and accuracy. I watched with my heart in my mouth as Ricky’s shot boomed into the back of the net. 4-2. Game over.

A shout of triumph lurched through me, as if I had been waiting all day to let it out. I stuck my hand out and high fived anyone I walked past, teammate, coach, parent, ref, or opponent. I was having the time of my life.