A Few Words of Thanks to Russell H. Rupp Field

For the first time I walked in, with no clue how to hold a field hockey stick.
For the sunrise and sunset practices.
For the long hours in the pouring rain, blazing sun, and freezing snow.
For the pale shins and racerback tans.
For the ever-dreaded “get on the line”s.
For the fastest mile I have ever run.
For the 20-40s, fresh legs, and track workouts.
For the sore muscles and gasping breaths.
For the fingers jammed and broken.
For the bruised knees and bloody knuckles.
For the cone and pinnie games.
For the rounds of knockout and the alliances formed and broken.
For the clatter of sticks in the huddle.
For the first time my name was called for the starting lineup.
For the heartbreaking losses and exhilarating wins.
For the instant of silent anticipation before the game begins.
For the bang of shots hitting the back of the cage.
For my first goal.
For the day I learned to love defense.
For the the heart stopping breakaways and unbelievable stops.
For the interceptions and takeaways.
For the adrenaline rush of the corner.
For the blast of the air horn as the time runs out.
For the teammates I’ve played with and the bonds we’ve formed.
For the hard work and the laughs.
For the sacks, bets, no sirs, yes cuties, unicorns, and sweet potatoes.

For today.
For the last time I will walk off this field as an athlete.
For knowing that this is it, that one way or another my final season will end this weekend.
For the chance to play.

For the chance to be a champion.

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