Sophomore Misery

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Non-Fiction

Sophomore Misery
Narrative Non-fiction by Ryan B. Wallenberg

Sophomore Misery

           Soccer breaks hearts and soccer breaks bones. Throughout my extensive history of hundreds of soccer games I have experienced many heartbreaking games. But nothing could prepare me for the lessons of agony that I experienced in the fall of my sophomore year, following the incident on October 7th. A day of my past that will never be forgotten.
           The summer before my sophomore year was filled with high hopes. I had many things to look forward to during my second year of high school. It was the long awaited year of obtaining a driver’s license. Also, my passionate hate for braces would soon be forgotten because my two year countdown had practically expired. The main reason I was filled with anticipation was because I had an amazing opportunity to make the boys varsity soccer team for South Medford High School. Many players had graduated from the previous year’s team, which left several spots open on the team and I knew that if I played my cards right, everything would work out for me without any glitches. But something went wrong. I think back now and realize that there was only one thing I didn’t do to prepare myself for soccer. I didn’t go to soccer conditioning during the latter part of the summer.
           After a long month of vacationing up north, my family drove home so I wouldn’t miss soccer tryouts. I had already missed conditioning but had promised myself that I would do running on my own. My promises meant absolutely nothing. I ran a handful of times throughout the whole month and was terribly out of shape during tryouts. Somehow, I survived through tryouts, but when it was time for the teams to be announced, I got a little nervous. Miraculously, my name was called and I had made varsity. We practiced hard for the next week in preparation for a jamboree in Eugene. We traveled a couple hours to Eugene and played to two hard fought, tiring ties. I came back to Medford with a badly pulled groin muscle. It was a big mistake not going to conditioning during the summer. The next several weeks I was forced not to play on it, or even practice with the team, and instead I had to go through electric shock therapy and physical therapy. During that frustrating period of time trying to heal, school had gotten underway and I was slowly adjusting to a more hectic schedule. Gradually my groin began to respond to treatment and heal and I was given the green light to work out with the team again. A few days after I started practice, my long awaited orthodontist appointment rolled around. My braces were off, and finally it began to seem like things were worth smiling about.
           Two weeks with a metal-free mouth had passed, and our first conference game against Crater on Tuesday, October 7th was quickly approaching. I had earned my starting position back and was, at long last, getting back into the swing of things. The seniors on the team continually let us know how important conference play really was. They told us, “This first conference game against Crater could make or break our season.” They couldn’t have been more right.
           It was decided that Tuesday, the day of our first conference game, our whole team would wear our warm-ups to school because it was game day. It was a warm, sunny day with clear blue skies, almost an absurd idea to be wearing warm-ups on such a beautiful day. The school day quickly passed by (but not nearly fast enough) and we made our way over to the field. Our pre-game warm-up was focused and intense in eagerness for our conference opener. Coach Potter called us in to give his motivational speech, as if we actually needed one. He told us the lineup and my name was on the clipboard, starting as right forward. Nothing could stop the high I was on. Or could it?
           We jumped out of the gates against our opponents and caught them completely off guard. Crater, wearing their checkered black jerseys, showed no passion in the game and played lackadaisical. We punished them for their laziness and quickly went up 2-0 by the half. We expected a better effort from their team and continued to play with a great deal of energy in the second half. With ten minuets to go in the game, we had maintained our two goal edge on them. The game was essentially over. All we had to do was play the final ten minutes of the game. Coach Potter pulled out a few players, not wanting to risk injury, and moved me from forward back to stopper (which is the center of our defense). I had played that position many times and had a moment to reminisce about past years when I was permanently assigned to that position. Too bad I wasn’t the one who was taken out of the game.
           In the waning moments of the game, Crater received a goal kick. Their slightly obese goalkeeper, wearing a bright yellow goalie jersey prepared to boot the ball out. I marked up on Nate Tewes in the center of the field. Although he was slightly shorter than me, he had a good thirty pounds on me. If I had not been on the same team with him earlier in my soccer career, I very likely would have been intimidated by his grizzly appearance. The keeper booted the ball out. It floated in the air heading directly towards Nate and me. It was a soft kick but was up high and directly over our heads. My legs sprang, while never once removing my eyes from the ball. As my forehead reached the ball, feet high off the ground; I realized that Nate had also jumped up along with me. Just as I headed the ball, Nate, who was not even close to being high enough for the ball, headed me in the mouth instead of getting to the elevated ball. We both crumbled to the ground. Right away I felt something wrong. With my mouth closed, my tongue inspected the damage. I felt misplaced teeth in a much different spot in my mouth then where they were supposed to be, and I tasted blood.
           The first thing that ran through my mind was pure frustration, and even anger at Nate. I knew right away that my perfect smile was no longer that. I had no clue how bad the damage was. All I knew was that I hurt, and there was excessive blood pouring out of my mouth. Our loyal trainer Kim came onto the field to investigate the injury to my mouth. I could tell by her reaction that things were not good. I was sat down on the bench while my parents went to retrieve the car to pick me up. Just then the final whistle blew. If only I hadn’t gone up for that unimportant header. But I had no way of knowing.
           I was rushed to the doctor’s office, instead of the emergency room, to avoid the waiting. I immediately went into surgery, where I was drugged and had my teeth pulled out to their normal position. Painless, but uncomfortable. After surgery, I was taken to my orthodontist, and had my braces reapplied. I had lasted a little more than two weeks with them off. When all was said and done, the doctor said that I broke the bone that holds my teeth (new braces would serve as a cast), and I had an extensive gash inside of my lip that required stitches. My hated, jagged metal braces furnished in my mouth once again. My season; over.
           Nothing will ever compare to those feelings I had while sidelined, watching my friends play the sport I love. My heart was broken. The ache of the broken bone in my mouth hurt but not as much as being trapped on the bench. My sophomore season was filled with trivial times that helped develop my character. The rest of the season I had a lot of time to think about my life and I realized that soccer is just a small part of who I am. I learned that I am blessed to be playing soccer in the first place. Everything happens for a reason. I believe that God brought this injury into my life to help me realize that I was taking things for granted and was focusing more on worldly things than on him. It always seems that when things are going accordingly in the world, we take our eyes off God, but beware, because those are the times that God will do whatever is necessary to get your focus back on him. It only took a broken mouth to remind me.

Ryan B. Wallenberg Age:17 Contact: wllybpmpn@hotmail.com
Copyright 2002 Ryan B Wallenberg
Reviews and comments requested
Posted 06/01/2002