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Final Title



             Saturday after Saturday, for years, my parents would get up with us kids and go to our soccer games with us. In the early years, they would just come watch me play on the co-ed team with the kids from my elementary school. As my brother and sister got older, Saturday mornings were about how to coordinate getting all of us to the right games, at the right times. Then when there was no one else, my parents would coach our soccer teams for us. Then not only would they have to go to the games with us on Saturdays, but they also had to find a place for us to practice, they had to run our practices, coordinate the buying of our uniforms, organize trips to tournaments, and put up with all the other kids and their parents for six to ten hours a week. Once I reached high school though, my parents were able to give up that burden and could again sit back and enjoy the games.
             My parents never missed a game. They'd even switch sides at half time so they could be right there when I scored goals and so they could be within shouting distance incase I needed a little encouragement. I loved this in the beginning, but as time went on, this became something that haunted me. When I reached high school, the game of soccer changed for me. To start, I began to realize that I was actually one of the better players. I also began to see how happy this made my parents. .
             This was a funny time in my life; things like this were hard for me. I was stress out over school, not because it was hard, but just because I felt like I had to keep the pressure on myself in order to continue getting straight A's. Somewhere deep down inside I think I felt like I could show my parents how much I truly appreciate them by getting good grades. When I did and they seemed to enjoy it so much, I made myself feel like I had to keep this up in order to avoid disappointing them. Then when I realized how happy my playing soccer made them, it also became another responsibility that I stressed myself out over.


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