AN EXCERPT: Practice makes perfect… some times.
Perhaps it was the joy and excitement of having a new coach, ‘his´ new coach, but Jason had been practicing Soccer for many days in his own back yard. Actually, and to be more specific, he was trying to get a good “scissors kick” mastered altogether, but he learned so quickly that when the grass is wet there was not much to be done, other than cleaning himself from the mud after he slipped over and over.
He also learned that when the soil was not wet, it was so hard and rough that he had to go to his mom more than once with a peeled elbow, or a big bruise on his… oh well, his very lower back. To his credit, and in spite of all these problems, he did not give up.
Give up? Jason did not. One day, he came back from school, it was a typically hot day of Texas, and at around four in the afternoon it was perhaps the hottest hour of the day.
He came in rushing and dropped his backpack at the entrance, and headed to the kitchen in search for just about anything that would mitigate his thirst. Since Coach had told them to stay away from sodas as much as possible, he had not much luck there; Pam had been careful about buying less than usual. So Jason put some ice in the blender, then he cut two limes, and squeezed the juice with a hand squeezer, and put into the blender. Then he put some sugar and water, and turned it on. A good cold reward was worth all the trouble; now he had a Texas-size tumbler full of limeade.
He started drinking it voraciously, and with glass in his hand he headed to his bedroom. He laid the glass on a dresser in his bedroom. A table lamp, a big pile of books, rulers, pencils, and toys had taken all the space on that dresser. He then took one of his soccer balls and pitched into the bed. He took his shoes off, and started throwing the ball up in the air in front of him, and tried to kick it as he fell on his back – una tijera, as they call it in Spanish, a scissor kick. Some one may think that he was obsessed with just the thought of being able of execute it; actually, he often remembered how Coach Dan did it when they met for the first time, and it looked so easy; ok, not so easy, he thought, but it could be done.
He tried one, two, many times. He thought he came so close to connect a good kick once or twice, but he was close. Then, just when he thought his efforts were fruitless, GUAM! He kicked it! He connected a perfect bicycle kick. He hit the ball so hard that it hit the ceiling, the fan, and then ricocheted to the dresser where the lamp and the pile of books and junk were. The lamp came down with the light bulb broken, and so did the books, the glass of limeade, and most of the things that were on the dresser!
He rushed to the bathroom to get a towel and try to dry the limeade spilled everywhere; books, carpet and all. As he came back, he stepped on a piece of glass from the light bulb, and cut his sock and skin; not too much blood, but a lot of pain.
As scared and frustrated as he was, yet he had some humor left in him to smile about his accomplishment –his first well executed bicycle kick!
He was still trying to put the books and the rest of the things, when his mom came in from work, and went to see Jason in his bedroom. She saw the wet towel on the floor, the broken light bulb from the lamp, the soccer ball near by it, and Jason limping with a rag around his foot.
Jason had to confess what happened, after his mom, signing, gave him the third degree.
“Sorry-mom- but –I did-it. It-was-a-good-kick” he finished the story of his adventure.
“We are changing some things around her, young man; one of them is no more soccer balls inside the house. Do you understand? Said mom both, in sign language and verbally.
“OK,” said Jason, flat and simple with his hands.
