Dressed in a crisp red uniform and matching cleats the I proudly walk onto the freshly painted lacrosse field. The soft, recently cut green grass squishes underneath my feet with each step I take. Looking into the bleachers ,that lay straight ahead ,my family sits awaiting the beginning of the game. Everyone in the stands are huddle together like a group of penguins during a snowstorm. The crowd looks as if they are frozen to the bleacher seats, wrapped in blankets, with their hoods on their heads and gloves on their hands, preserving as much warmth as possible. I ease down into position, with my elbows and knees bent preparing myself for the fight that lingers in the near future. We place our sticks in front of us at the perfect angle, only applying enough pressure to hold the ball in between them. Checking to make sure neither of our feet are across the line and our sticks are in the correct placement, the referee dressed in the official black and white striped shirt, backs away from us. Watching the two of us like a hawk, she makes sure neither of us move a muscle, then she blows the whistle. We spring up from our positions and launch the ball into the air . The girls that surround us on the outer circle quickly swarm to the middle and begin the war .