While I sit on the sidelines of the field, watching my soccer team play, I am distracted. I cannot focus on the fact that we are up by five goals or about to score the equalizing goal, all I see is that I am on the bench with a brace that reaches from my thigh to my ankle. All I can think about is that I cannot play and the one stress reliever in my life has been ripped away from me.

I can still remember the day that it happened vividly. My team had traveled all the way from Conyers, Georgia to Pensacola, Florida for a tournament. We were all extremely excited, but also a bit nervous because we knew were playing teams who were ranked way higher than we were. As the members of my team slowly trickled in from the parking lot, we began to hear a far off sound.

A thunderstorm with torrential downpours and heavy lightning was brewing on the horizon and the radar on all of our smartphones showed that it was headed straight towards the fields. Eventually, the referees of all the surrounding games blew their whistles and signaled for people to take cover. Our game should have started by this point.

After forty-five excruciatingly long minutes, the storm passed and we were allowed to go on to the field to warm up. As soon as we started stretching, the refs called for captains to come over to flip the coin. After the pre-game formalities, we returned to our team and the refs said that we had five minutes until kick-off. Normally we have about thirty. We did not feel stretched or prepared at all.

Honestly, I don’t even remember the score of the game. All I remember is running down the side line of the field trying to stop the other teams forward from scoring. I wish I could tell a great and exciting tale of how I tore my ACL, but the true event was anything but. I planted my foot to turn with the forward and pushed off. As soon as I pushed, I heard the dreaded popping noise and crumpled to the ground. No one touched me, I didn't do some cool move or turn, I just fell. It is crazy to think that the tearing of one small ligament can keep me from playing the game I love for seven months. I remember crying, not because of the pain (Even though it did hurt), but because I knew. In a small part of my brain, I knew what I had done, even though I tried to convince myself otherwise. As soon as the MRI results came back though, there was no denying it. My ACL was torn and I had to have surgery.

Now, I have had surgery and been through six grueling weeks of recovery and physical therapy. I have grown to hate the electronic pulse machine at PT that the therapists call the RUSSIAN. I still go to all the games for my club team even though I always leave heartbroken that I could not have been a part of that win or possibly even prevented a loss. I replace the time I would be at practice by doing my daily PT routine at home. Despite the hardships of this injury, I know that it will end and I will be able to play again. I know that this will make me a stronger player and an even better person.