My "Aha" Moment

         

Berkowitz          4

Josh Berkowitz
E. Doyle
English 11AP (5)
21 December 2018

A Broken Leg and New Way of Thinking

In the past I had always thought that I would be a top level soccer player. This is regardless of my smaller stature, not having experience at the highest levels and without being a varsity player my freshman year. Whenever my teammates from school who maybe fit into one or two of those categories argued with me about our skill I would argue with a burning stubbornness explaining reasons why I was just as good as them or better. So, I had a chip on my shoulder. Going into any practice, game, or scrimmage I always would make it my goal to play better than them or be the best player. I saw the sport as more of a job than an actual game. One game in particular I took my goals to the extreme and sacrificed more than I should have to get a goal and possibly win.
It was a cool May morning with mist n the air. My parents and I had driven an hour to a field in the middle of nowhere for my game. The field had been painted with dew since it rained the night before. I could hear the parents of other teams cheering loudly for their kids as my teammates and I warmed up. When I was finally time for the game to start I grabbed my bag and headed for the sideline. The game started briefly after getting there and I was in the starting eleven. Until half time I had played the majority of time and nearly scored twice. Later on in the game as the teams were evenly matched at a score of 1-1 I had a chance to score, but I would risk colliding with the opposing goalie who happened to be much larger than me. I stuck out my left leg to get to the ball and . . . Crunch! The big oaf had fallen onto my leg with his full weight.
My initial reaction was that I needed to move. I tried to get to my feet and ended up rolling around on the ground in pain. The sensation I felt in that moment must have been the worst I had ever felt. It was excruciating. Once I had calmed myself enough to stay in place I sprawled myself along the ground as still as possible. Only after what felt like hours the medic came over to me at the pace of a brisk jog. With the help of the medic and my coach I limped off the field and onto the bench. My dad then pulled the car up to the field and I was once again helped in. My dad raced to the hospital as I wined in the back for every single bump we came across.
          The next time anyone would see me, I would be on crutches with a fractured fibula, which basically meant my leg was broken. The doctors told me I wouldn't be walking for months and soccer would be out of the picture for close to half a year. Every day at this point I woke up miserable and I even missed a couple weeks of school. My favorite activity had been taken from me and I couldn't fathom it. When I saw people In school I put on a smile as if I had been ok with it, but I really was not.
After four gruesome months I finally started going to physical therapy on a regular basis in hopes of helping myself back to full strength. I would go in every other day and do my exercises and it felt like running in quick sand. No matter how many exercises I did or how well I did them I still was on crutches and couldn't move. However, I continued doing my exercises and working toward walking again. I slowly transitioned from the crutches to a boot and eventually back to walking on my own. The day I first got back on my feet without crutches or a boot was long awaited, but I still was working toward lacing up my spikes and getting on the soccer field.
As I got closer to the end of my physical therapy I began running and jumping. Every day at physical therapy I would ask my trainer, Lauren, "When am I gonna get to play soccer again?" Then she would always say "You're getting close, we just need to work on a few things." But I knew she was lying because I asked her that for the entire last month of physical therapy. However, the last day was different and I remember it vividly. The first difference I noticed was that she was testing me on my leg strength and flexibility, which she never did. The second, and much bigger piece, was our conversation at the end that was one of my happiest moments. Once I had finished the last activity she asked of me I asked once again "When am I gonna get to play soccer again?"
She responded with "Today might be your last day of physical therapy so hopefully you can play this week."
"Are you kidding" I said in genuine confusion.
She responded with a little laugh and said "Let me go check your scores and I'll let you know when I'm back." I waited in desperation for about five minutes and then she came back with the results. When she got back he told me the scores and let me know that I was officially cleared to play soccer again and other things to, but I was too happy to even register what she was saying after "You can play soccer". So, that day I left physical therapy in the best mood I had been in for literal months.
My first day back at soccer was a camp for school soccer. When I arrived at the field and greeted all my teammates. They seemed as shocked as I was that I was already back after such a major injury. I greeted my coach with a firm handshake and a huge smile. We began warming up and immediately I could tell I would not be at one hundred percent, but I continued on with a smile and just enjoyed the day as I did my favorite thing for the first time in months. As the day went on I noticed I was not playing as well as I should have compared to the other players at the camp. Before my injury I would have been upset by this, but for some reason I could not be bothered by the idea.
As time passed I continued playing soccer every chance I got approaching the beginning of the season. I never caught myself getting upset for messing up or losing in practice, but instead I would keep smiling because I knew how much of a privilege I was too play. I had learned what taking the sport too seriously had done in the past with my injury and how depressing it was when I lost that privilege. That first day back to soccer really was my wake up call to this new philosophy. That was the first time I had this realization of enjoyment over success. When I do anything now and for the rest of my life I will carry the experience with me and remember to enjoy life and not worry as much about the results.