I remember the first day I suited up in my worn, hand-me-down pads, and shiny new cleats. I was so nervous. As my Dad drove me to practice it was comparable he could discover my mind. He tried to calm my nerves by coition me that Id never get hurt with all my gear, that he would never let me do something that would put me in danger. He told me to do my best, but I didnt commit that these smelly plastic pads could keep me from harm. In my mind I power saw myself taking some kid out care Charles Woodson from the Oakland Raiders, but I wasnt Charles Woodson, and I wasnt a professional.
Before I knew it we were pulling into the gravel parking lot. My tum rolled as we raced to be on time. I jumped out of the truck wearing a face that wasnt mine, a braver face.
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My Dad helped me pull the red and yellow Igloo pee cooler out of the back, and we carried it down to the field together.
After we set the cooler down on the cement benches I do my way over to my teammates. We were just a bunch of simple-minded school boys, way to young to die. My hands were sweaty, and I entangle like throwing up. I glanced over at my Dad and saw that he was setting up for the first drill, my knees felt make to give way. If any of the other boys were nervous they didnt let on. I felt like I was on my own, I knew that I was on my own. My Dad was ready for us, yelling like a drill sergeant at his recruits, I wide-awake myself for war. I was picked to go first, it was the moment of truth, the moment that would determine whether or not...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com
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