Children’s experiences and emotions are shaping many of the traits and attitudes towards life. No wonder psychologists are so thoroughly swarmed in our childhood, looking for the roots of adult problems in it: failures with the opposite sex, insecurity, isolation, total bad luck and even diseases. This, once again, underlines the importance of childhood in human life. Nobody can argue that the best memories are childhood memories. Like everyone, I think that my childhood was probably the happiest one can imagine. I had everything I only dreamed about, loving family, best friends and first school love.
Unfortunately, my story is not about them but about the best memories I can remember. And one of them is sports. It may sound funny, but I have devoted myself to sports so much that I cannot imagine my life without it. Like every child, I remember the first time I saw a bike. My father used to put me in a little saddle on the trunk and drove me around the city. He was a cycling fan and when I grew older, he always took me to watch the cycling races. Kuwait hosted a lot of professional races so it was always interesting to watch, though it took me a lot of time to understand how somebody can ride 160 miles non-stop. When I was four, my dad brought me my first bicycle. I remember it as if it is standing in front of me now: red, with Batman stickers and white wheels. It was cheap and simple but it was mine. My dad wanted me to be a man, so he never tolerated me crying and whining. He told me that to drive, I have to push the pedals all the time no matter what. If I fall down, I have to stand up and try again.
Use your promo and get a custom paper on
"Memoir Essay".
When he finished this mini-tutorial, he took the shoelaces and tied my feet to the pedals. I was looking at him with such a fear, but he was calm and patient. After he had finished, he said: ‘Be a man and do it.’ I have never seen him so happy before. Of course, I fell a few times, but he was so confident that I could this that I could not think otherwise. I started riding again, and I did not fall anymore. I pushed the pedals as hard as I could and I thought I am fast like a bullet. Dad came up to me a few minutes later, hugged me and said that he was proud of me. This is how my cycling passion began.
Time has passed, I got me first friends and of course not of them were as passionate about cycling as me. They were nice guys, but their parents did not teach them how to ride or did not want to buy them bikes, so they bought a soccer ball instead. Soccer is probably the only game in the world that every person knows the rules or at least tried kicking the ball with the foot. We had a small grass field with trees instead of AAAAA. We used to gather all children around and played football all day long. My dad saw this and decided that it was my time to start training. He took me to the local football club, and this became my second home for the next couple of years. I had been practicing six days a week. My dad even became concerned that I did not pay enough attention to my studies because I was addicted to this game. While others were sitting at home playing computer games, I have been dedicating all my power and will to soccer.
The first official game. Not a single narration can express all the feelings inside when you are about to play your first game in the tournament. And it does not really matter if it is a game between 11-year-old kids, it still remains the most important even in your entire life. I was so scared that the first few minutes of the game I tried avoiding the ball. It all changed when I first made a steal. I tackled the opposite team’s player and stole the ball. I was running as fast as a kid can do, rushing with my whole team ahead. I am a team player, so scoring a goal for me is nothing without assisting your teammates. So, once we were near the soccer goal of our opponents, I gave a precise pass to my friend and he scored the first goal. The first thing I did after giving high-five to my friend was I looked at the tribune. My dad was there, looking at me with such a wide smile that every other child must have been jealous. No other father was so happy and proud as mine. The first game was an easy play, but after this game we felt unstoppable so no other team could beat us at that tournament.
I look back at my childhood, particularly at these memories and I feel sad. It was so easy to be a child, to devote yourself to what you really love, play football, ride the bike, spend time with your friends or your dad and just be happy. Everything has changed, we are no longer carefree, and we need to think about our future. All I can do is gently keep these memories inside my head and never forget how easy it is to be happy when you are a child. These memories will remain in my heart until my last breath.
