Drawing Eliana Pasternak

When the whistle blew, I got ready to spend most of the game on the bench. While my coach was giving the lineup, I was preparing to grab the pinnie bag for the bench players, like I always did. As I pulled it out, though, I heard my coach say my name. I was starting in my first ever soccer game. I dropped the pinnie and tried to contain the excitement that was rushing through my body. We did our cheer and took the field. I stood there in the middle of the field with thoughts overwhelming me: “Why does she think this is a good idea,” “This is so crazy,” “I hope my dad is videoing,” “Peppa, do NOT screw this up.” I was so nervous, but at the same time, ecstatic. Everything was finally starting to fall into place.

Tweet. The starting whistle had blown. It was time to show these girls what I was made of. I got the ball at my feet and just as before, the cleats took over. I was doing moves I had been too scared to try, dribbling at defenders with confidence I had never experienced before; it was as if the cleats had put some sort of spell on them. Before I knew it, I had dribbled through their whole team and was one-on-one with the keeper. I took a deep breath and ripped the ball into the bottom right corner of the net, scoring my first-ever goal. At first, everyone, including myself, stood there in disbelief. Then everyone went crazy, and when I turned around I was tackled by my celebrating teammates. I ended up not only playing the rest of the game, but also assisting our other 2 goals, helping my team to a 3-0 win.

Fast forward a few months: I was starting every game, had the most goals in the league, and was getting the attention of D1 schools. All of the hard work I had been putting in over the years was finally paying off.

At first, my teammates were so happy that I had hit my stride and could finally contribute something positive to the team, but as time went on, they began to develop more negative feelings towards me. My dad tried to drill into my head that they were threatened by my talent. I felt so unwanted that I considered giving up soccer. They had made me feel like shit when I was bad, and when I finally became good, they still made me feel like shit. I could not get around my teammates — no matter how I contributed to the team, negatively or positively, I just could not win with them. It seemed like they decided I was always going to be on their bad side.

After days and days of drowning in my negative thoughts, I eventually came to the conclusion that my time would be better spent not playing soccer. Not only was my mental health declining, but I wasn’t having fun anymore. Even when I was terrible, I still managed to have fun at practices. But now, even the thought of putting on my cleats and stepping onto the turf again just made my stomach churn. I had decided to turn down the numerous offers from an array of colleges, and threw out my cleats. No matter how much it hurt, I had to keep reminding myself, “It’s for the best.”

— Anonymous

Eliana Pasternak