My dad always told me that I was good in sports. I just have a natural tendency to pick up on a sport quickly and excel through it. Hey I’m just gifted like that so don’t be jealous because you wish you were me, you wish you had my talent. When I was around six years old, I was introduced into the sport of street hockey. According to my neighbour Carson, street hockey was a really big thing on my street back then. It was very popular, like the NHL is nowadays. The game had just started. Carson passed me the ball. He yelled “Go for it”. I stick handled the ball like a pro; I practically walked through the Defense. I took the shot and watched the ball sore to the back of the net right past the blocker. (I was ecstatic with joy). I got a round of applause and high fives all around.
By the time I reached grade eight, my interests had turned into a more physical sport. Football was the game and we played it every day at lunch. At the time my body had been accustomed to sports for years so naturally my skills would surpass the average kid. My friends always played Football at lunch time so I naturally played with them as a tradition. We played all year long wheater it rained cats and dogs or hailed golf balls we played as if our lives depended on it. Andrew was our quarterback for almost every time we played. He was big guy if he wore some red flannel he would look like a lumberjack. On an ordinary day we played football like we always did. Today I just had a feeling that I would just push myself a little harder. The play was set; everyone was eager and ready to go. Andrew shouted “DOWN...SET...HUT”. I sprinted 15 yards and turned around to catch the football. A second later the ball was in my hands. I felt like I was on a mission to save the human race. The ball was the key for me to complete my mission. I ran with the ball, dodging everyone who was in my way of completing my goal. Everyone was trying to grad a hold of me. I felt...
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