Personal Narrative Essay: My Love Of Football

I stood up and cheered as the announcer announced my son’s name over the loudspeakers. I knew nothing about football, but I did know that a touchdown was an accomplishment. This was Ty’s first game on varsity. He had worked so hard for that spot on the team, he deserved it, and now it was paying off. I pulled out my phone and saw the three texts left by my husband. I slide and replied. He wasn’t going to be here, he was not supportive of Ty’s football career, citing brain damage as a good reason not to trifle with the sport. I agreed, with determination he worked towards it.
I watched Ty catch the ball and when he turned to run a massive man rammed into my son. The crack that resulted, silenced the once cheering crowd. Everything slowed down as I watched my son smashed into the ground.
I flashed back to the first time he fell off his bike. He came into the house with a
He was in the seventh grade. His older brother, Kyle, had died on the field. This shook up some raw feelings with his father and I. Just the next year, we got him a football and told him in highschool he could play. In this moment, I regretted it.
All at once, everything hit me. My son was dying down here. I threw the blanket off my shoulders and ran to the sidelines. The coaches tried to hold me back, but I pushed past them with ease. I stood outside the paramedics, holding my mouth as they tried to revive him. They pulled the pads off and began to do CPR. I screamed and ran to him, but someone pulled me back. I fell into the grass as they got the stretcher out. Panic and terror pulsed through my body. I was going to lose him, lose my only son.
“What’s wrong..with him?” I screamed at the paramedics. None of them looked at me. “What’s happening!” I screamed. Things began to move too fast. I fell back into the grass and watched as the sunset-colored clouds blend together as I heard a paramedic say into the walkie, “Don’t send backup, we lost