My first and only experience playing football
I played one season of football, back in eighth grade. I stuck with it for a single season, but after the very first practice, I knew it wasn’t the sport for me.
That first day on the practice field was hot. I greatly underestimated how hard it was to breathe hot air through a face mask. Those who’ve played football know what I mean.
My first time really getting hit, I went up against our best player in a tackling drill. As you could probably guess, he hit the crap out of me. I learned two things right off the bat: 1. It’s not cool to get hit like that, and 2. The ground hurts! I remember thinking: What have I gotten myself into? I wondered how much more painful it would be when I was facing an opponent from another school, rather than a teammate.
The coaches were tough, but it made me tougher. My dad came to most of our games. As a receiver on an all-run team, I never scored a touchdown—which sucks. But I worked hard and ended up enjoying my time on the field with friends and teammates. And when the end of the season arrived, I said goodbye to football without any regrets.