For the daily grind on the resilient-plastic-green field.
To hours of elbow grease a day into trainings,
to nights of tossing and turning followed.
Through the struggle, off-days, and pain,
somedays you seemed to mutilate me more than physically.

To the incessant blood and sweat shed on that ductile turf field.
After unceasing amounts of suicide sprints,
I thought you just about made me see my agonizing demise.
Transforming that one v. one brutal battle for the ball into World War l,
I leave wounded in blood-blistered burns,
that feel like gun shots.

To the tainted jerseys and gear.
Your defeating sward seemed to pummel my uniform like a wildfire.
Creating an endless amount of
rips from fingernails, stains from withered grass, and flaws from losses gathered.
From the soggy and swampy grass fields,
to your beautifully groomed turf.
No matter your look, you always seem to sweep that scrimmage.

To the tears of devotion emitted onto that field.
Even through the uninterrupted pain, sweat, and burns,
you were always affectionate towards me.
Creating the most secure friendships, exhilarating wins, and most importantly,
allowing me to play the sport I love.

The soccer field transformed my entire life,
it let me to exert my passion into a hobby,
and I will forever clutch our bond with love, precious soccer field.