The bright, orange glares of the morning sun struck through the pale curtains. Without the blinding light I would’ve slept through my passion, soccer. I loved waking with adrenaline for my favorite type of day. This day felt different. No adrenaline, no energy, no strength. I didn’t feel any of that regular enthusiasm. I knew this day was off to an odd start.

I weakly dragged myself out of the rough, hotel blankets that were too thin to keep me warm that chilly night. This isn’t me. The real me would have adrenaline rushing down her spine to her ankles. Sluggishly, I slipped on my pink, Nike shin guards that were drained with salt from sweat. With flimsy arms, I pulled on my knee-high red socks, that had been too worn out and crusty to make it through another ninety-minute game. I jumped into my ruby-colored uniform whose originally white number had turned blush-pink from spending too much time in the washer. I jammed the regular game-day essentials in my black duffle bag too overflowing with warm-up clothes. Lastly, I stuffed in my cleats, too bright to ever forget to bring them. I had everything I needed except my enthusiasm. I rushed out the squeaky, wooden door. Why don’t I feel ready for this? Why does this day feel so unusual?
            Before I realized, my feet had landed on the flat surfaced soccer field, layered with a sheet of pale, green grass. The warm, blazing rays of the sun struck my skin as the cool breeze swept my hair across my face. Forty-five minutes prior to the game, my team and I started warming up.  Throughout warm-ups I felt dizzy at times, but I shook it off. Coach won’t let me play if I let her know that I’m not feeling well. I just won’t tell her. I bet I’ll be fine once I start playing.

It was game time. I was drinking gallons of water before playing. My position on the field was always left mid-field. Mid-fields always run the most. We always must be chasing the ball, whether it’s way up high by the scoring net or way down low by our defensive line. I was well conditioned to stay in for the amount I needed to be. My fear was being dehydrated. It was a very sunny day and even though there was little wind, it wasn’t enough to keep us cool. 

As much as I was used to soccer games, I was always filled with nervousness whenever I when I stepped foot on the field. Palms sweating, abnormal heart beats, and now dizziness. I ran the ball up and down one last time. This last time made the field feel enormous. My throat dried and locked. My heart uncontrollably fast. I was ready to receive a goal kick by one of my teammates. I couldn’t control the blurry vision any longer. I heard the faint sound of the whistle. The environment around me, spun and slowly blackened until everything was filled with nothing but darkness.

I woke up overwhelmed and confused. Everything was too blurry to recognize the different faces of my teammates. What happened? Why am I on the ground? Why am I the center of attention? It took me a moment to realize what was going on. When my vision and mind had become clear again, my coach, with concern and relief in her eyes, explained how she had to pick me up off the field because I had suddenly dropped to the ground. I then tried to explain what I remembered before the tragedy occurred, but my brain was too foggy to even remember that I had passed out on the field. It felt like I had suddenly transported from almost receiving a goal kick, to lying flat on the Earth.

When I was young, I used to wonder the feeling of fainting. I would wonder the feeling of it happening and how it happened. I didn’t think one day those questions would be answered by experiencing it. On this day my team and I had a traumatic experience that we were not ready for. To this day, I only remember seeing the world in vignette.