Give it a Chance 

Some people just aren’t meant to be athletes, they can’t handle it when something is too hard or a coach is to mean. Well I used to be one of those people, I was a quitter. It all started at soccer tryouts in the 4th grade, which may seem like it was a long time ago but for me it isn’t. I tried out for a travel team for the first time, my other team wasn’t challenging me enough so I decided to take my soccer career to the next level. I made the team that year and the next. I was doing great, I was improving a lot and I had a great coach both years. The only problem was, well me. I was only working at practice, doing nothing extra outside of practice, not thinking about what the consequences would be if I didn’t push myself to be the best that I can be. So when the third year came around, I really really wanted to make the A team. So when the coach started calling off the names, and finally called mine, 

“Chayse,” and pointed me over towards the B-team, my heart sank all the way down to my feet. I slowly picked up my soccer bag that had been falling over from the wind and dragged my feet across the green grass to where he pointed. I think he could tell I was upset by this but he didn’t care because he had already turned away from me and was calling someone else. I just didn’t understand how this could be, I had done everything that my coach asked me to do and worked so hard at practice. I didn’t want to be on this team again, I thought I had worked hard enough to earn my spot in the A team. But I was wrong. Then I realized that I had been just standing and staring for I don’t know how long and people probably thought I was crazy. I also must have missed it when he said that we were free to leave because everyone was walking toward the parking lot on the other side of the field. “Do you need something,” the coach asked while packing up the rest of the soccer balls. 

“Umm, yeah,” I stutterd. “I’m just not sure I am going to stay with this team,” I shivered, cold now that I wasn’t running around. When I said this I was expecting him to say something like, “well why not?” or “that's too bad” you know. But instead he said, 

“Well I need to know. Are you staying or going?” he looked straight into my eyes and for a twelve year old that was pretty scary. 

“I-i don’t know. I have to talk to my mom and-” he cut me off before I could finish, 

“Okay,” and he walked away. What a jerk. There was no way that I was going to put up with him for the next year. So when I went home I told my mom that I was going to quit this team and join a different one. 

“Are you sure you want to do that?” she told me sitting at the dining room table. “You shouldn’t quit as soon as you don’t like something that happens. Sometimes you just have to stick with it. But it is up to you,” she looked at me with her disappointed look. But it didn’t matter what she said, I had already made up my mind. 

“I’m quitting,” I said and I stood up and quickly walked down the hall and into my room before she could respond. So then I joined a different travel team, one that wasn’t as good. And I had the worst season ever. On my other team I had made lots of friends and with this new team, I was the odd one out. I didn’t make any friends and the coach didn’t really do any coaching. So I didn’t improve at all. Even though I would have hated the coach, if I stayed with my team I probably would have improved and had a lot of fun. By the end of that season I had not improved at all and it was all my fault. My biggest mistake was quitting as soon as things got hard. That is when I failed myself. And ever since then I have been trying to make up for all of that time that I lost. I shouldn’t have given up just because of some mean coach or because I thought I was too good for that team. Because I am meant to be an athlete.