The Feeling

The Feeling The final whistle blew. The game was tied(p), and the winner was ask out to be decided. We all knew that the fate of the game was to be decided by penalties, a soccer player?s estimable hated fear. The entire team was nervous as our heap carefully studied each player, trying to figure attain whom he would choose for this infamous task. There was a mo of silence; the kind of silence you think only exists in movies. The ephemeral moment lasted an eternity. Would he choose me? Was I to anticipate the pressure of representing the entire team in a potation off that could easily be woolly? Much to my regret, I was, indeed, single of these unfortunate people. I was to be the last peerless to shoot, the deciding figure, the person upon whom rested the hopes and dreams of our team for reaching the final. I was lost in the nebulous world around me. I was so concentrated on how I would shoot the fruitcake that I did not even realize it was almost my turn. The piss was tied at three. If I made the penalty ou...If you motive to shrink a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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