The Best Game of My Life

During my senior year of high school, my soccer team played one of the best soccer games I have ever been in. We were playing the number one seed in division one CIF rankings. Earlier that year they beat us 3-0 when the league MVP scored a hat-trick. This time we were home. I was chosen to mark the MVP.

The game started, and they scored an early goal. We appeared to be out-classed as a team. Then a questionable red card was given out giving the opponent a penalty kick and leaving our team without a stopper. They easily scored the PK. Our coach, knowing we could not sacrifice an attacking player, left me alone as both sweeper and stopper. Gratefully the half ended with us trailing by two.

I was already tired and our substitute defenders were hurt so I was to have no relief. Thus far I had accomplished my task by not letting the MVP score. Half-time was over all to quickly and we were back on the field. We did our inspiring chant just before the whistle. Our team was rejuvenated.

We went out fighting, winning every ball. The game instantly turned rough. We kept attacking as though we had the extra man and we were finally rewarded with a goal; and then another. The stands were going crazy realizing we could pull this off. The opponent then responded with another goal of their own. We were down 3-2.

This only seemed to ignite a fire within us and make us double our efforts. We continued this epic battle between two titans. Again we found an opening and fired a shot in the back of the net. We were tied at three's. With the under five minutes left in the game we launched a final attack with all our strength. Our left wing crossed it to the PK spot where a midfielder did a stunning header low and hard to the corner. We were up finally 4-3, with two minutes left.

At the crowd's roaring, we played on. Desperately in the last seconds of the game we cleared the ball only to have it sent back at us down the left side. The league MVP took the last opportunity and beat our exhausted left defender with shear speed. My legs wobbling I ran after him as fast as I could run in my exhausted state. I caught up to him and in a last attempt I slide tackled.

I was just outside the eighteen. I barely got the ball. The MVP rolled into the eighteen and I heard a whistle. laying on the ground trying to get some air I realized the ref called a PK. The crowd howled in disbelief and anger. Too exhausted to do anything, I watched helplessly as they easily scored the Pk. The final whistle blew as we kicked the ball off. The MVP didn't score that game so I accomplished that, but as a team we knew we came back and beat the number one seed in CIF with only ten men who didn't know when to quit.

NOTE: This lightly edited article was submitted by one of our readers. A big thank you for the inspiring story.