7th Grade. Every Friday during recess, we would have an all-school soccer game. It was middle school vs. elementary. Seemed easy enough. Unfortunately, the elementary kids outnumbered us 4 to 1. Most of them would huddle in a giant blob around the ball, making it impossible to kick.
So, one Friday, we had yet another match. As usual, the elementary kids huddled around the ball, and none of us could find a way through. I was diligent, however. With all the power I could rally, I pushed my way through the never-ending mass to the ball, getting within 10 feet of it. The mass was unrelenting, and they continued to push me back. My friend Douglas watched from afar, trying to encourage me. Remembering my love for candy, he shouts, “Charlie! Pretend the ball’s made of chocolate!”
Barely a moment passed when one of the older elementary kids got a foot on the ball and booted it up into the air, smacking me dead in the mouth and knocking me to the ground. Roland, witnessing the event, shouts back, “I don’t think he meant for you to eat it!”
I was laughing so hard, everybody thought I was injured.
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