From the perspective of the worst member of a sports team

Dear diary,
Today was another one of those days. Yes, those days where I attempted to convey to the world my prowess at soccer. As usual, something went wrong, though I'm unsure as to what exactly.
I got to the field in style, with one cleat and one sneaker on. My left cleat seemed to have vanished, but that's just whatever. Who needs it. I put on my chipped and splintering, homemade wooden shin guards, and I was ready to go. We were going to start our usual two warm-up laps, and we were instructed to get into two lines. Since I'm so cool, I made my own third line. I could hear everyone yell at me to get into one of the two lines, but I blatantly refused. Halfway through the second and final lap, everyone started to pick up the pace, yet I began to walk. That's so cool, everyone starts working harder for me... I could get used to this.
After that, we stretched. I came out of that feeling like a piece of bubble gum, only sore for some reason. I wonder if it's possible to over-stretch.
Following that, we scrimmaged the girl's team. We did that for the remainder of the practice. It was amazing. I got the ball twice, and what happened? I tripped over the ball the first time, and the second time, some four foot tall girl plowed right over me and got that ball. That was lame and everyone laughed at me. I wish they wouldn't do that. Though I only played for two minutes in that scrimmage, I went out with a bang. When I went out there and dug that cleat and sneaker into the dirt, they knew I had been there, making history as usual. You know, doing great things.
Well, I though I did alright. However, everyone was talking trash about my unbelievable skills and all, and said I was incapable of playing soccer and all. That hurt a bit, but hey. It's probably just jealousy.
Always a winner,
Too cool for a "real" name