In 2018, I stepped onto the soccer field for the first time. My dad stood beside me, a proud smile on his face. He had played soccer as a kid, and he wanted to share that passion with me. As I laced up my cleats, I felt nervous but excited. “Just have fun and do your best,” he said.
The sun shone brightly, and the smell of fresh grass filled the air. That first practice was a whirlwind of running and laughter. I stumbled a few times, but each time I got back up, the ball was waiting for me. My dad cheered louder than anyone else, and his encouragement made me want to try harder.
With every practice and game, I started to understand the ball's magic. It wasn't just a round object; it was my companion. When I kicked it, I felt a rush of joy. Dribbling past defenders made me feel free, as if I could do anything. The ball became a part of my story, rolling into new adventures every week.
As the years went by, soccer grew into a huge part of my life. I learned teamwork, discipline, and resilience. Each game was an opportunity to learn something new. The bond I had with my dad deepened, but the connection with the ball was something special too.

– Loulou

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