It was 1984, and it was pouring down rain in Canada. Ha, wouldn’t that be cool? No, okay, in all seriousness, it was three years ago. I was a freshman in high school and had been the backup varsity keeper for the whole season. My cousin Allie was the starting keeper, and during a game, she got kicked in the stomach and was told she had a hematoma (internal bruise… if you were not aware). So she could not play our last regular season game before going into playoffs, and it was set to be against Hoban. Now, if you are unaware of the seriousness of my situation, let me tell you. Hoban was said to be our most challenging game of the season. I thought this whole time that I would just be happy old me sitting idly by on the bench watching Allie. But unfortunately, that did not happen. So, it was seven o’clock at night, and I was preparing for what I thought would be the most stressful night of my life. Not only was the game against Hoban, but I was a freshman starting varsity for the first time; as if I was not nervous enough, right? The time slowly approaches 7, the team lines up, the national anthem plays, we’re getting called out individually, and I hear my name. I am happy. For a split second, I am excited to be starting, and I run onto the field to high-five my teammates and get to my spot. Don’t worry. That second faded quickly. Now there is nothing but nerves and fear, with only a little confidence in myself. The whistle blows, and suddenly the game starts.

I started well, saved a couple of shots, punts were on point, and I calmed down. Hoban makes a break; it’s me against the forward, no defender; she shoots and scores. Alright, the first goal in, one to zero them. Great. Next, as nothing could stop them, the second goal is scored within the next 2 minutes. Then, the third. And as the half ends, the score shows four to zero on the board. What happened? I’m not bad at what I do, but I’m not ready for this level. I walked to the bench at half-time, and my cousin ran to me. They told me I was doing fine. I know it’s not true, and she’s just trying to make me forget and cheer me up, but it works. I suck it up and go out for the second half. Save a couple of shots, but eventually, more go in—the fifth, sixth, seventh, and finally eighth. I was humbled. I was never confident or cocky but somehow became even more humble than before. The whistle blew, and my team didn’t even score a goal. I looked at the field and thought that I was the worst. So yeah, worst game ever.