I loved soccer and the feeling that all players put their best into the game and for competition. It was a combination of brain work and physical fitness. Every person was so passionate that you could not even pause for one moment. As a midfielder myself, I loved the beautiful pass I made and enjoyed the feeling of controlling the whole game. I was the Ronaldo in my community, for I had dominated the game. However, my real soccer journey, or better put, my life journey, began in Abbotsford, a city I would probably never heard of if you asked me two years ago, the place that broke me down but also the place that woke me up.
It was a pretty late afternoon. It was snowing so heavily that the field was so white that every footprint became. "What a severely cold winter it is!" I murmured as I stepped into the field. "Come here !" Yes! When I heard the voice of Alex, I sprinted to the Goal and put on my assassin(a soccer shoe). As always, we started to do some warm-ups: high kicks, two-foot jumps, and a relay race with dribbling. We then went to the bench, cleared the blankets of snow, and discussed tactics and the first-round roster for today's competition. Thunder, a small local soccer club, was no more strange to us as we had a couple of violent games before. I rubbed my hands and began to look at my phones, trying to find a fantastic restaurant to have dinner. Sushi, Ramen, and beefsteak began to emerge from my head. There was no better celebration than eating could bring to me after the triumph. I couldn't help thinking that the last game in which I ended the game with a long, beautifully lobbing pass. It was one of my masterpieces of cracking out the defence line and spotting right on the feet of my teammates. What kind of passing would I create in this game?
"Tim, come here," my eyesight met with Jason. His face seemed astounding, but I could easily read what he said. I rushed to come near him, and my eyes stopped at the tactics plate. My name was on it. As I came closer to it, rechecking my name, nothing related to Tim was on it. "Tim, you are placed on the bench today" as the sound invaded my ear, Alex appeared in front of me.
"Why is that? I don't want to." I told him.
"It's for the team. That would be the final decision," Jason remarked decisively.
"I couldn't play as a bench player; I haven't played that role in the game." I insisted.
"Then you will learn how to play." When the words were just about pumping out, I saw only the back of him. I saved the team back and came to the bench. I was the best player on this team, and I was the one that buttressed the team. They're going to lose without me.
The whistling sound came from the field, and the game began. Even with displeasure, I started watching the game, glancing at the back of Alex involuntarily. The mixed feeling filled my head. His back was wide enough to block out my view, but it was familiar to me somehow, seemed to remind me of someone who reprimanded me the most, annoyed me the most, but also the one that meant the most. I always complained about the "unfairness" I had received in daily life to him. To him, those complaints seemed like rising smoke that vanished into the air. Unknowingly, these scenes lasted in me, claiming a piece in me.
The game went poorly, and I played in the last 15 minutes. Nevertheless, I started making a pass-a beautiful pass, a beautiful arc, beautifully travelled through the other side of the field. The trajectory of the pass was so evident in the snow. Pia, the crisp crackling sound made us a goal. I could imagine the ball's path rising and going toward the soccer gate like the pass. The game ended with the whistling sound; we lost the game. A total loss in the past does not mean a loss in the next. Uncertainty is waiting for us, so we start with the rolling ball again and again, and this feeling made me excited and optimistic about new challenges.