To this day (I am 29 now) I can vaguely remember that sleep walking episode, and it was not isolated.
I had put myself under such extreme duress to perform. To be one of the best. And to make the team that I had a semi-lucid sleep walking episode. This happened to me as an adolescent several times when I felt under extreme pressure. Pressure to make the “A” team, which I had been fantasizing about for months, finally came to fruition the next evening.
I was ecstatic, overjoyed, and felt that I was worth something.
I was going to get to play for the elite team in Oklahoma and play with a few friends too. The excitement and joy did not last that long, however. Stepping onto the scene as the second major male figure in my life (since soccer was life to me) was my new coach, Johnny Compton. I had heard rumors about how nasty and cruel he could be even while playing recreational soccer.
And I was hoping that none of those were true and that people were over exaggerating the whole “Nazi” label thing. I wanted to play so I was willing to lick mud off his cleats if he told me to. His opinion of me began the first male oriented, emotionally, verbally, and mentally abusive relationship I had.
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