If you've ever played on a team such as field hockey or soccer, then you can relate to "first goal bliss." It is probably your personal highpoint of the season. You remember the place, the time, and maybe even the weather.

This past September 14 was a "cold and windy" Thursday, as it reads in my journal. My sport: Junior Varsity field hockey for Medfield High; my position: right inner. Since I had never scored before, I wasn't really expecting to this time either. But when I got the ball and was at my fullest speed, I looked at the goalie straight-on, and then at my destination: the net. My stamina was at its highest potential and my adrenalin was frantically pumping. I veered past a girl in front of the goalie, as if I hadn't noticed her. My real obstacle was yet to come. Without bothering to look at her again, I shot. Then, along with the loyal town field hockey spectators on the sideline, I followed the ball into the goal. I felt a weird, unbeatable, and absolutely wonderful sensation in my stomach. The crowd was screaming and I could almost hear the cries of my mom and best friend above them all. All my teammates were jumping up and down and hugging me. I looked around in the midst of it all and felt this had to be one of the most thrilling moments of my life. I had helped our team to victory. Not only was this an actual positive affect on our team, but on me, too ... I had achieved. Whenever I feel down, I try to remember everything that was racing through my head as I saw the ball swish into the net.

The second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth are not even in competition with my first and favorite goal. Sure I was happy and proud of myself, but I had done it before. It was no new accomplishment. I will never have "first goal bliss" again, but that's okay , once was enough. n