A cold and dreary day in the
middle of December awaits me where my clammy shake with exhilaration as well as
fear for what I am about to do. My stomach sickens as I approach the telephone
to deliver good and bad news to those who invested a whole heap of time in me.
In the next five minutes, their commitment, dedication, and efforts will either
be rewarded or wasted based on what I am about to tell them. Last minute
thoughts include ‘Oh no! How am I going
to word this? How can I make the bad news not sound so horrible? What if I
suddenly changed my mind after I hang up on him?!’ The realization;
however, hits me that in only a few minutes, this state of anxiety and
desolation will swiftly transition into a sense of jubilation and liberation
from the nightmare of the college soccer recruiting process. A few minutes
later……..’I’m free!....I’m FREE!’ I
finally know where I’m playing and don’t have to worry about where I will be
going to school at.’’ I take the first breath without any worries filling
me head and rejoice to the fact that I am officially a (insert school’s mascot
here).
As everyone can see, it could
not be more clear that I am ready to verbally commit to play soccer for a
school, but complications keep coming up that are preventing me from doing so.
With all of these issues arising, it doesn’t help to hear from coaches that I
have a month to make my decision or else my scholarship and possibly, my spot
on the team, might be taken away. The nightmare of screwing up by committing to
the wrong school haunts me worse than the oppossum that climbed up on my leg
when I was eight, traumatizing my youth with a everlasting fear of all animals
existing in the rural habitat. That
moment will come when my conscience is telling me to choose one school will be
the day that I call up the coaches and tell them the good or bad news.
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