The Tip
I liked to play soccer when I was a kid. I would take off my foot rests and push the ball around with my feet. Even though this wasn’t safe, my parents let me do it because I enjoyed it and it made me feel normal. I was even on the soccer team as a goalie. Many a times I made spectacular saves in practice by maneuvering my face in front of the ball. Surprisingly, I never broke my nose.
When we traveled to matches against other schools the coach never let me play. He would always make me the “referee.” Even at eight years old I knew it was bullshit, since there was a real referee already. At one game, I kept asking him when I could go in. “Soon” he said, “Soon”. I kept asking him, pestering him, until he broke down and said, “I can’t let you play. Your chair covers the whole net. It’s not fair to the other kids.” I stopped “refereeing” after that.
Later, in sixth grade, I was playing soccer in the backyard with my best friend at the time. My mom was dressing my brother, my sister was washing the dishes, and my dad was fixing something. I was going as fast as my motor could, weaving and spinning with the ball, at least in my mind, when I ran it over. I teeter-tottered on top of it for what seemed like forever and fell sideways with the chair, smacking my arm on the pavement..
“RAUUL!” my friend screamed. Upon hearing this, my sister ran out and screamed, “OH MY GOD RAUL TIPPED OVER! HEEEEELP!”
“YOUR BROTHER IS DEAD! HE’S DEAD. DEAD!” my mom yelled, which made my brother start bawling.
All while I shouted, “I’m fiiine. I’m fiiine.”
My mom peeked out the window. “S-s-should I call 911?”
My dad ran toward me and, never being one to panic, asked me if my neck hurt.
“No,” I said, “just my arm.”
He put the chair right side up and took me to the ER.
I had never broken any bones prior to that. No significant bruises, cuts or anything that required x-rays or even stitches from playing outside, and it had always bothered me. So, when I found out that I had in fact broken my arm, my eyes lit up and I couldn’t stop smiling the whole night. I rolled into class the next day proud of my pimpalicious cast.
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This entry was posted on November 3, 2009 at 1:36 am and is filed under Stories. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.
