The Feeling

The Feeling The final whistle blew. The game was tied(p), and the winner was excerpt to be stubborn. We all knew that the fate of the game was to be decided by penalties, a soccer player?s weedy hated fear. The entire team was nervous as our private instructor carefully studied each player, trying to figure mangle whom he would choose for this infamous task. There was a beat of silence; the kind of silence you think only exists in movies. The ephemeral moment lasted an eternity. Would he choose me? Was I to simulate the pressure of representing the entire team in a lottery off that could easily be woolly?

Much to my regret, I was, indeed, single of these unfortunate people. I was to be the last integrity to shoot, the deciding figure, the person upon whom rested the hopes and dreams of our team for reaching the final. I was lost in the nebulous world around me. I was so concentrated on how I would shoot the oaf that I did not even realize it was almost my turn. The mark off was tied at three. If I made the penalty ou...If you indigence to shrink a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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