When I was in eleventh grade, I played football for Woodland Hills. The year before, I survived a whole year of dressing for football games and nothing really seemed to be going wrong for me. I had all the praise in the world for “surviving” that whole year. The eleventh grade comes up and I find myself at Camp Twin Echo for the second year and, all of a sudden, I felt sick. My stomach was achy and I had a fever for the entire week. Around Wednesday of that week, I decided that I was going to go home the next day and take care of myself before anything else happens up here. I was just about to call my parents to come pick me up during the day on Thursday but the athletic trainer for the football team stopped me from making a huge mistake, in leaving training camp I will also be quitting the entire football team…as the rules stated. Coach didn’t want me to leave the camp so his offer was that I will help him around the training room. Taping, stretching, icing, heating, and everything else I would be able to learn in the field of Athletic Training first hand from a certified athletic trainer. I agreed and helped him out around the campsite, since we were still there. My first big injury that came in, however, was a separated shoulder of one of our star athletes, which now plays in Notre Dame. He came in screaming and crying about his shoulder…they laid him on the table and, at first, I held him flat on the table as still as I can. The two athletic trainers (one is actually a physical therapist, as well), tried each and every single way to help out the injured. Finally, one of the trainers goes “Man, I wish I had someone to practice this on.” and I raised my hand. So, I lay on the table next to the injured player and they determine where his shoulder was compared to mine and that they should pull up (as they pulled my arm in the direction) and out (as they pulled my shoulder out…slightly) and back into the joint (as they put my shoulder back into the joint). So I got up and back to my position, which were to hold his legs down so he won’t kick out of the holds, and then, after a while of pulling and pushing, you hear a nice loud SNAP and a smile appeared on all four men in that room and that, honestly, was the start of that I wanted to do something like this for a living. However, that same year I got the “Oh my, I don’t think I want to do this anymore” scene as in one game two football players, one after another, went down with the same injury….on the same leg. They both went down with broken tibia and fibula and were down for the season, this also took down the only two offensive linemen that were any good….and they were never the same. When that happened, all I could do was stand there…mouth open…and hands on my head trying to think of what just happened. But everyone has that one moment to question their actions and, I hope, that this was my moment and, the trainer even told me and my family this, I hope that I never, ever, get to see that happen to anyone. Finally, I think the reason that I want to do this profession is because I want to help out the team. I want to have some say in the team doing good or the team doing poorly. I have always been fond of sports, from baseball to football to soccer they are all equal for me. I just want to find that niche that I can help a sporting team, and I am sure as heck not as good at playing sports. But I want to help the people who are good at sports, who are great athletes, get better and back on track. This field is, actually, the only field that I want to work with and I, hopefully, will be put into a situation to show my skills on the colligate or pro level one day (in any sport