The sport of soccer

        The sport of soccer has been known to cause hundreds of thousands of injuries- broken ankles, torn ACL's, concussions, hurt knees- the list goes on. However for me it has caused something more internal.
        It was just a normal Wednesday- I had study-hall first, ending the day with Math. Wasn't too terribly boring, but it certainly wasn't an eventful day. That is, until I got to soccer practice.
         My friend Alexandra had called me to ask if I could bring her home, and I replied with, "well aren't you going to practice?" She says, "no, I forgot my stuff at home." I tell her that I cannot bring her home because I, on the other hand, am going to practice. So I arrive at the field, and soon find out that my coach, who is normally a pretty cheery person, is not in one of the best of moods. Word gets around and soon we all find out that he has a tough day of fitness in store for us- that is, a lot of sprinting. Moans and groans spread throughout the cluster of girls, and soon some ideas are getting voiced about what we should do instead of sprinting- sometimes our players think that they are the coaches. My coach likes one of the ideas and decides that we will do that instead- a game in which you sprint around a cone at the each of each round and then continue to partake in a mini scrimmage. Better than sprinting, yes, but not much better. He separates the team in half, each on one side of the field. We play this game for a majority of our practice time, all the while he is keeping score of how many times defense wins the ball over how many times offense scores. He announces that whoever is losing by the end of practice will have to do fitness at the end- more sprinting. I hear this and just about die on the inside- I was already breathing and panting so hard that I thought that I might legitimately pass out if I had to do any more sprints. When it comes down to the last round, my coach announces that we are tied, and that whoever wins this last round is the winner for the day. I am on offense, so I pushed myself the hardest that I ever could to score a goal. My attempted shot misses- so we must redo the round because nobody gets the point. My shot misses again- another redo. I decide to give it one more big push before my body could physically not take anymore. Another redo. He tells us to line up again. I start out to do just that when I realize that I cannot breathe. I stop right where I am. I try to catch my breath, failing. I start to freak out a little. Everyone else is in position, except for me. My coach sees me then- "Lisa, are you alright?" I can't speak, trying to concentrate on getting air out- which I still cannot do. I shake my head no. He says, "do you need a sub?" I nod my head yes. He runs over to me and asks, worriedly,  "what's the matter?" By this time I haven't been breathing for quite some time, so I start to cry, saying hysterically, "I can't breathe." In my head I'm thinking that I'm about to die. For months, ever since soccer started, I've been noticing that I've had trouble breathing. I had been meaning to tell my parents about it so we could get checked out by a doctor, because I figured I might have some form of athletic asthma.  However it had never been this severe before. My coach tries to help me through it, telling me, "Don't cry. You have to calm down. Crying will only make things worse. You have to be calm in order for you to get any air out." So I try to stop crying, and after about a minute I am able to calm down. Another 15 seconds, and I can finally get some air out. I am thanking the Gods that I am breathing. I had never been so scared in my life. Immediately after practice I tell my parents about the ordeal, and they call my doctor. I have an appointment to go see her next week, but in the meantime, she called me in an inhaler, and I am currently using that. The sport of soccer is a very dangerous sport.