Stage One
\nWishing, hoping, praying to find my zone
\nAn important game
\nA game to play with heart
\nA game that must be won
\nFirst comes the huddle, bring it
\nThen comes the break
\nThe whistle blows, and it’s time to start
\nIt’s the calm before the storm
\nFlash! Insecurities spread through my body like cancer
\nDoubts fuels my internal fire of losing
\nI pray for confidence<\/p>\n
Time for stage two, push
\nNervousness is gone
\nDoubt is eliminated
\nA mindless body takes over
\nA body that has been trained
\nA body that knows what to do
\nNothing left to do but focus
\nDistracting flies crowd the stands
\nTheir red shirts tell you who they are
\nFamiliar faces yet so unfamiliar
\nThey are there for one reason
\nWatching, waiting, wanting to see me fail
\nTheir secret revenge for my supposed disloyalty
\nTime to prove them wrong<\/p>\n
Back to the game
\nWe want it more
\nTime to play harder
\nThe ball floats through the air and whispers good luck
\nA message from God
\nI check the scoreboard after every play
\nToo focused to keep track in my mind
\nA point for us, a point for them
\nTrading points like we are trading secrets<\/p>\n
My heart begins to beat faster, faster, faster
\nIt’s back
\nNervousness is my new rival
\nI check again
\nThe game is approaching its end
\nDisappointment of losing
\nIs that how it will end?
\nThe second push
\nStruggling up the mountain
\nWho will make it there first
\nUs or them
\nNo more team names, no more colors
\nJust us or them
\nShortness of breath and a beating heart is all I can hear
\nClose calls by the referee determine the game<\/p>\n
Stage three
\nGame over, I can breathe easy again
\nHappiness sizzles through my veins
\nMy body is left soothed with tranquility
\nComposed, cool, still
\nThe joy of winning, priceless<\/p>\n
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