Since I was little, I have always been a soccer fan and wanted to play soccer when I grew up. It is like a sport that shouts; play me!

Three years ago I woke up one day and told my mom to take me to a soccer team so I could try out for them because the day before I saw them posting information about the tryouts.

When I get there they call my name “Abed Hammad” and they asked me what position play.

“Defense,” I replied.

“Lets see what you have.”

In my head I am looking at the people yelling and cheering me on. In reality all I saw coming at me was this guy like he wants the ball as if it was a lost gem, and no matter what I did I couldn’t get the ball from him because he was too fast.

Game over.

The coach tells me I can’t be on this team, and I felt like if you cut open my stomach, the black slug of depression would slide out.

When I went home, I went to my backyard and started practicing because I didn’t want depression stuck in my head. I would get the ball multiple times and start doing moves, shooting, and some defensive moves.

Months later, after practicing every day and sweat coming out of my body, my mom told me that she saw a soccer team trying out kids. She knew I still had my dream.

I asked if she could take me to tryout.

When I got there they asked me what position I played and I just told them any position.

They put me as a striker, gave me the ball and told me to cut around the defender and score a goal on the goal keeper.

No nerves. I know what I have to do.

I get the ball and I go around the defender. The goal keeper is like a knight in shining armor standing in goal, guarding the entrance.

I shoot, in my mind it’s like the ball screams as it flies through the air and goes straight in the goal.

I knew right away I made the team.

When I looked at the coach, he gives me a thumbs up and tells me to get ready for our first match.