Life is a series of unpredictable experiences, some good, some not so good. These experiences can be minor, major, change one’s life, or not affect it at all. In the world of sports, these experiences happen on a daily basis. If you, as an athlete, step out on that field, court, course, or whatever it may be, you put yourself at risk of becoming a victim of these situations. When it comes to my personal sport life, stepping out on that soccer field every Monday and Wednesday for practice, and Saturday and Sunday for games, I put myself at risk of tearing an ACL, breaking a bone, or just missing the game winning shot.

“I’m open, I’m open!” I scream as my team mate receives the ball directly in front of me. The ball is passed to me and in my mind I picture turning the ball to shoot, but that, unfortunately, doesn’t happen. As I receive the ball, I can feel the pressure from the defender behind me. Falling to the ground, I wait for a whistle to blow. When I land, the whistle is the least of my worries. My arm, throbbing from the fall, goes into a pain I’ve never felt before. At first, I stand up thinking the pain will go away just as the pain from a stubbed toe would, but this hope of relief isn’t coming. I fall back to ground knowing this is much more serious than I thought it would be.

I walk off the field, tears rolling down my face, knowing that was probably the last soccer game I would be playing for a while. My family and I pile up into my dad’s truck and head up to the nearest hospital. As a fifteen year old soccer player, having no other serious injuries playing the game, I had no idea what to expect. As I lay in the hospital bed, waiting on the x- ray results, I think of all the possible things that could be happening. “Am I lying in this bed, thinking I broke my arm, but actually just bruised or sprained it?” “Or did I really break my arm?” “How bad is the break?” All of these questions running through my mind. Finally, after it felt like hours, the doctor walks in with a smile on his face. This surely lighted up the mood and put positive thoughts into my mind. As he sits next to me on the bed, he shows me the x-ray of my arm. Not knowing anything about bones, I sat there with a blank stare on my face. This was the moment that would change my life for the next couple of months. He begins to explain that I did in fact break my arm. He says that the bone in my forearm had bent, which is called a buckle break. This wasn’t what I wanted to hear. He ensures me that the recovery will be quick and healthy. He wraps my arm and off I go.

Getting home, I think to myself how much more difficult everything I do is going to be. Because of the medication I had taken for the pain, I was ready for bed by seven thirty. I lay down about to roll over, but a sharp pain rushes through my arm. I realize it’s impossible for me to lay comfortably because of this cast on my arm. Yes, not being able to lay the way I want to is inconvenient, but sitting on the bench watching my fellow teammates play the game I love may hurt more than the actual injury itself. It was agonizing to sit there knowing I wasn’t able to play, and I couldn’t do anything about it but wait. The pain of sitting there was awful, but I was still there, supporting my team, just as they did for me.

Around Thanksgiving time, my arm was fully recovered. Although my outdoor season was over, indoor was right around the corner. The day had come, I was finally able to play soccer again. Nervously I stepped out on the turf of the indoor field. (Not to mention, the game I broke my arm was also on turf.) The whistle blew and that was it. It turned out to be one of my best games to this day. I scored four goals and more importantly, my arm felt just fine.

Although this particular injury was minor, it did have a significant effect on my athletic ability. No matter what happens, I’ll always find a way to get back on the field to play the game I love.