Dream On - The Dreams of a Crazy Teenager

Give me Back the Ball, Kid

“All right, soccer practice is over, have a good week,” my coach said as he dismissed us and we started gathering up our stuff.  I grabbed my backpack and water bottle, and hereby realized that my soccer ball wasn’t where I had left it.

Great, I thought.  This is just what I needed, having to hunt for a soccer ball when my parents would already be upset that practice had gone over and would want me back to the car a.s.a.p.  I looked around our entire field, and it was nowhere to be found.  I decided to walk over to the other field and see if it had gotten over there somehow.

I got to the other field to find that my suspicions were correct.  There was a boys’ soccer team practicing; I would guess they were all about 10 or 11 years old.  One of them had my soccer ball.  I walked over there and asked him nicely (yes, nicely) to give it back.

“Haha!  Never!” the kid yelled, passing it to one of his friends.

“Come on, I really need to get home, can you please just give me my soccer ball back?”

“Nope,” said another kid, juggling it around as if to taunt me.

“Give me back the ball, kid,” I said, a little more strict this time.

“No.  Never.  You can’t make me,” these kids were starting to get on my nerves.  I mean, who thinks this is cool?  Not me. 

“Have patience, young grasshopper.”

“What the…” I turned to see a Chinese sensei-type guy floating in mid-air, Indian style; he looked like he was meditating, except his tiny little eyes were open and were staring me down calmly. 

“Patience.  You must have patience,” he said.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered.

“Patience.  It is a virtue.”

“You know what, I don’t have time for this,” I said to the guy, and then yelled at the kid again.

“GIVE. ME. BACK. MY. BALL!!!!!!”

With that, I took off sprinting toward the kid that had it.  He laughed at me and quickly passed it to another kid, who waited until I had almost caught him before passing it to another boy.  They were tormenting me.  After running around for a while, I heard the Chinese guy yell, “PATIENCE!!!!!” and all of the kids started laughing at me.

That was it.  No more nice Micaela.  These kids were going down.

My face went from annoyed to pure anger (almost evil, really).  The kids saw that change, and their passes got a little quicker.  Unfortunately for them, one of their teammates was a ball hog.  He got the ball and smirked at me as he dribbled it down the field.  This was my chance.  I sprinted dead on at the kid.  He thought he could outrun me.  Heck to the freaking no.  I was gaining on him, fast.

He waited way too long to accept the fact that he wasn’t as good as he thought he was.

He turned to smirk at me again, and with that he saw that I was about to catch him.  His face was the picture of death; pure, undeniable terror.  He tried to pass it; no no sonny.  You think I’m going to let you pass that after you smirked at me.  I needed to teach this kid a lesson on humility. 

I didn’t even give him time to flinch.  I put all my force into one slide tackle and totally took him out.  He flew off the ground (hehe, skinny bean pole that he was), and landed face first in the mud, a result of the rain the night before.  I grabbed my soccer ball and smirked at him as I said, “Thanks for the ball, kid.  Have a nice night.  Make sure you remember to take a shower.”  His glared at me, and so did all of his teammates.  The Chinese guy couldn’t help but chuckle as I walked by, a huge smirk on my face.

Hey, the kid was being a brat.  You don’t mess with me.