I was late to practice, prompting several disturbances in my usual routine. My patellar tendons—usually bound by purple stretchy wrap—lay naked. The wrap mimicked the color of the word Pioneer, written in royal purple on the locker room building and the t-shirts of my teammates as they arranged themselves into five lines for relay races. As I observed this scene, I ran through a warmup. I drove my knees into the air, left, then right, hopping through a modified jog, watching my muscles contract, keeping myself aligned.
Any oddities were forgotten once we began. We had speed and agility training, which was competitive and fast, my favorite. We then moved to the larger field, a football field, spray painted with yard markings, fresh with the scent of sweat radiating from the nearby locker rooms. We played Dog Bone, which was essentially speed and agility training, plus violently slamming into each other, even better. Dog Bone made me feel invincible. I didn’t leave much energy for possession games, last on the list.
My body felt heavier and slower than usual, my brain mushy. It was Friday, so I had an excuse. I cycled through bursts of energy and more lethargic periods of soccer. I then began the dangerous practice of being aggressive while exhausted. My tackles weren’t centered or aware. I knew when to stop.I knew my body. I am invincible. I will do whatever it takes to get the ball. My body is a vessel for my brain to throw around to achieve its goal. My run became a jog, and my breathing slowed. I can’t be the person who’s not working hard. I’m supposed to be the 110% person, 100% of the time. I kicked my aching muscles into gear.
The ball rolled across the fake grass and lay in place for my opponent to pass. I followed this movement, tracking the ball with both my eyes and my body, tracing the path.
She placed her left foot next to the ball and swung her right foot back, prepping. I began a curved sprint, maneuvering between the receiving player and the tightening path of the ball as it left her foot.
The space between my body and the ground diminished exponentially, until I found myself sliding in that gap I had aimed for. My outstretched right foot led my being through the air, propelled and powered by my left, shooting me through a kinetic interim. My right foot: fast. My left foot: slow, struggling to bind to the ground. Eco-friendly coconut turf smelled like burnt rubber, acting like rusty metal. Itchy. Nearly intangible. Blades like tranquilizer darts shot into the first layer of skin on my leg. My vision blurred. Refocused. Blurred. Ankle cracked, vision blacked.
Fire latched onto my ankle and surged through my body until it reached my brain where it set off thousands of red lights. I struggled trying to punch them out as if on a wall in an arcade. The signals reached my brain, panic and obsessions and anger and heartbreak pressured into a single scream. No. Up the scale and down, my voice cracked like a posterior malleolus fracture. A wail of realization and pure panic. I can’t just walk this off. I’m not invincible.
