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Snow fluttered to the ground as Jane pulled her gold jersey closer to safeguard against the blistering chill. Although the mini goblins and evil spirits had actually simply collected their annual deals with, winter season was already wrapping its bitterly cold hands around her. The soccer field shone, glistening from the currently melting snowflakes. Despite the fact that national championship had actually not yet begun, the Warrior arena overflowed with rows of eager fans, passionate to be viewing such a crucial soccer match.
The line of women marched up to the slushy field to meet their adversaries, the Panthers, shivering in their gold soccer shorts. Jane could see the opposing team look warily at them as if the game was just a waste of their time. In every heart burned the desire to win, to accomplish a job never ever before accomplished. The Lady Warriors were on an objective: to beat the Panthers for the first time in school history.
The very first forty-five minutes of the video game went uneventfully; both teams attempted to rating, however the soccer ball was shuttled around the field like a ping-pong ball, aimlessly without any sense of instructions.
As they fought versus their challengers, the severe and harsh wind assaulted the professional athletes. They needed to win. They needed to beat the cold. They had to beat the finest team, and they had to get back at. Whistle blaring, halftime was stated, and the group trudged back through the icy lawn, disappointed. The winter season chill was barely felt as their unspoken disappointment took control of.
The group circled around together and listened to their coach’s encouragements. The screeching whistle sounded as soon as again, and the group charged back onto the field, feeling the inspiration to win, remembering Coach Smith’s last words: “There’s absolutely nothing you ladies can’t do”.
Jane was inspired and she rushed on the field, playing like a maniac. Suddenly, an ear-splitting crack was heard and for a second, there was silence. Perhaps her excitement blinded all other senses, but Jane only remembered seeing a blur moving in her direction before she collapsed on to the snowy field, head throbbing. Head bowed down in defeat, Jane could not bring herself to look up at the crowd surrounding her. But a solitary clap emanated from the row of spectators, and as she lifted up her tear-streaked face, her eyes locked with those of her optimistic team mates. Unsteadily, Jane stood up and the stadium resounded with cheers.
The game commenced promptly; the clock was ticking with no time to lose. Then, the words, the assertion, that made Jane’s fists clench, a single statement uttered by the rival coach: “That girl’s weak, one charge at her, and she’ll be down again”. That girl was Jane, the offensive player, the unnerving forward, and she was enraged. Stinging pain from where the ball made contact with bare skin was quickly forgotten, even as the ugly red marks remained. The biting wind whipped strands of hair in her face, and Jane’s eyes squinted in the icy coldness. But her mind was defiantly set: she was on a mission to score.
Adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream and her heart pounded rapidly as she rushed down the field. Jane swiftly maneuvered the ball with exact precision, imagining the moment the ball would enter the opponent’s goal. It was amazing how much satisfaction one solitary act could reward a person. One moment the white jersey of the defensive girl was coming at Jane’s way, ready to charge and steal the ball away. At the next instant, the sky was looking quite beautiful, sun shining, as the ball sailed swiftly into the white net. The whistle sounded shrilly and the multitude of onlookers erupted with excitement, the Warriors had defied an age old tradition, defeating the long-standing champions. The accomplishment, the pain-it made Jane triumphant that day. Against the odds, the underdog emerged victorious on the battlefield.
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