May 9, 2011 1 Comment
I walked off the field with my head slouched, feeling like I’d let my team down. When the game was on the line, I’d given into the pressure, it felt like. When my teammates needed me most, I’d betrayed them. And when the fans were hoping for one more defensive stop, my efforts proved futile. I didn’t understand. What happened? I’d known it would come down to this, didn’t I? I knew it would be a hard fought game, back and forth. I had a feeling it would come down to the last minutes of the game. I suspected— hoped, even— it might be in my hands, up to me to make a game clinching play. To be at the ready, I’d prepared extra hard all week. I’d lifted weights every day after practice. I’d gotten up at 5 am each morning before school to run, making sure my conditioning was where it needed to be. And I’d watched hours of game film, studying my opponent until 1 or 2 in the morning each night. I don’t know where I went wrong.
But you do, right?
That, of course, is a fictitious story. Well, maybe not leaving the field disappointed, but certainly the weak (oh, I mean week) buildup to that point. Read more of this post