Soccer Born To Play

By Ryan Turkmen

In a world where success is defined by grades and failure is villainized, a twelve-year-old boy is struggling to find his place. He dreams of playing professional soccer, but his teachers and even some of his friends discourage him, telling him it's just a dream and that he needs a backup plan. Despite this, he remains determined to pursue his passion.

 

As a struggling student, he finds solace on the soccer field, where he becomes the hero, the villain, and the superstar. He lives for the competition and the camaraderie with his teammates. But outside of soccer, he struggles to find true friends who support him unconditionally. He learns that there are three circles of friendship: true friends, acquaintances, and those who are not truly friends but can lead you down dangerous paths.

 

Despite the challenges he faces, the young boy remains focused on his goal of playing professionally. He wakes up early each morning to take public transit to the soccer field, where he spends hours practicing and playing. His passion for the sport drives him forward, even when others doubt him.

 

Throughout his journey, he learns that failure is a necessary part of success. He realizes that the teachers who discourage him from pursuing his dreams are the ones who need backup plans, not him. He also learns that life is like a novel written one chapter at a time, and the last chapter ultimately defines who we are.

In the end, the young boy achieves his dream of playing professional soccer. He overcomes the obstacles in his path and proves that hard work and determination can lead to success. His journey serves as a reminder that we should never give up on our dreams, no matter how unlikely they may seem.

• Language: English
• Publisher: True American Publishing
• Release date: Mar 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224356928

Ryan Turkmen

As early as five years old, Ryan had only one dream. That dream was to one day play professional soccer with Real Madrid Club de Fútbol, a Spanish professional football club based out of Madrid, Spain. Now playing in a highly competitive league in Toronto, Canada, Ryan, who's now fourteen years old, can see his future more clearly than ever. "Staying focused is the key," says Ryan "it's how you achieve your passion and your future dreams." You can also check Ryan out at his podcast TurkmenLive.com

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

In a world where success is defined by grades and failure is villainized, a twelve-year-old boy is struggling to find his place. He dreams of playing professional soccer, but his teachers and even some of his friends discourage him, telling him it's just a dream and that he needs a backup plan. Despite this, he remains determined to pursue his passion.

––––––––

As a struggling student, he finds solace on the soccer field, where he becomes the hero, the villain, and the superstar. He lives for the competition and the camaraderie with his teammates. But outside of soccer, he struggles to find true friends who support him unconditionally. He learns that there are three circles of friendship: true friends, acquaintances, and those who are not truly friends but can lead you down dangerous paths.

––––––––

Despite the challenges he faces, the young boy remains focused on his goal of playing professionally. He wakes up early each morning to take public transit to the soccer field, where he spends hours practicing and playing. His passion for the sport drives him forward, even when others doubt him.

––––––––

Throughout his journey, he learns that failure is a necessary part of success. He realizes that the teachers who discourage him from pursuing his dreams are the ones who need backup plans, not him. He also learns that life is like a novel written one chapter at a time, and the last chapter ultimately defines who we are.

––––––––

In the end, the young boy achieves his dream of playing professional soccer. He overcomes the obstacles in his path and proves that hard work and determination can lead to success. His journey serves as a reminder that we should never give up on our dreams, no matter how unlikely they may seem.

CHAPTER 1

Ryan Parker slouched in his chair, elbows planted on the wooden desk that was drowning under a sea of textbooks and crumpled papers. His pencil tapped an uneven rhythm against the open math book, each digit and equation blurring into an indecipherable code. The mess of his room mirrored the chaos in his head—everywhere he looked, another reminder of the battle between his dreams and reality.

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Stupid algebra, he muttered, dragging his fingers through his messy brown hair. Ryan cast a longing glance at the soccer ball nestled in the corner of his room. I bet Messi never had to deal with this.

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In the quiet of his bedroom, the tick-tock of the clock felt like a countdown, each second pulling him further from the green expanse of the soccer field and closer to the suffocating walls of academia.

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Come on, focus, he whispered to himself, but the numbers continued their dance, refusing to settle into place. He imagined the ball at his feet, the spongy resistance as it rolled across the turf, the clarity that came with every pass and shot.

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Hey, I'd trade all the Pythagorean Theorem in the world just for one clear shot at goal right now, he grumbled, closing his eyes and leaning back. In his mind's eye, he could see the net, hear the roar of an invisible crowd, feel the thud of his foot connecting perfectly with the ball.

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Math can't make you feel like that, Ryan said to the empty room, dropping the pencil and letting his hands fall heavily onto the desk. It doesn't know what it's like... to fly.

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The door creaked open, and a sliver of light from the hallway cut through the dimness of Ryan's room. Mrs. Julie Parker leaned against the frame, her silhouette etched with the day's toil but softened by a gentle smile.

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Ryan? Her voice was the warm breeze to his storm-tossed thoughts. I know that look. Algebra got you in a headlock again?

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He sighed, pushing away the scattered papers. It's like it's speaking a different language, Mom.

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Even Messi had to learn a few words in English when he went to play for an international team, she said, stepping into the room. Her eyes mirroring the same fierce determination Ryan saw in his reflection fixed on his slumped shoulders. You've got tenacity, kiddo. More than any formula or equation could ever measure.

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Mom, I... His voice faltered, the frustration knotted within him.

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She sat beside him on the bed, the mattress dipping under the weight of shared burdens. Remember last Saturday's game? You didn't let anything stop you then.

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The memory sprang to life as if conjured by her words. The roar of the crowd blazed through his recollection, a vivid contrast to the silence that now enveloped them. He was back on the field, the soccer ball at his feet a faithful companion.

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Corner kick in the final minutes, Ryan murmured, his pulse quickening. Ethan was marking me tight, but I knew... I just knew I could take it.

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Take us there, Ry. Her encouragement was a key turning in the lock of his memory.

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The flashback engulfed him. The whistle blew, a sharp note slicing through the tension. He darted forward, anticipation coiling in his muscles. The ball arced from the corner, a perfect curling descent towards the goalmouth.

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Go on, his mother whispered, watching him come alive with the retelling.

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I timed it, just like Coach Maria showed us. One step, two steps, jump! He threw his arm out, fingers grazing the imaginary ball. And then—bam! Head meets the ball; ball meets net. Goal!

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Sounds like you were flying, not just kicking a soccer ball, she said, a laugh in her voice.

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Exactly, Mom! It was like gravity forgot about me for a second. When I landed, everything just... made sense. He turned to her, the joy of that moment reigniting in his chest. For once, I wasn't 'Ryan who can't focus.' I was Ryan, the guy who scored the winning goal.

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See? She brushed a strand of his brown hair away from his forehead. You have that strength, that passion. And it's going to take you places far beyond this messy room and a pile of textbooks.

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Thanks, Mom. He felt lighter, the algebraic chains around his dreams loosening. I promise I won't give up. Not on soccer, not on anything.

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Good. She stood, squeezing his shoulder. Now, how about we tackle this math together? After all, every soccer star needs a strategy, right?

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Right. Ryan chuckled, picking up his pencil once more. With a newfound resolve, he turned back to the numbers that danced before him, ready to bend them to his will as he did the ball on the field.

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The pencil in Ryan's hand hovered over the algebra problem, his mind racing not with numbers but with the memory of that winning goal. He glanced at the soccer posters adorning his walls, feeling a familiar tug in his chest.

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Mom, he started, turning to her with earnest eyes, you really think I can make it in soccer?

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Mrs. Parker looked up from the textbook, her smile both gentle and encouraging. Ryan, when you're on that field, it's like you're where you're meant to be. There's a spark in you that I don't see anywhere else.

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But the other kids... His voice trailed off, the weight of their words often heavier than the textbooks scattered around him.

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Let me tell you something, she said, closing the book and leaning forward. People will always have opinions, but your dreams aren't theirs to manage. It's your passion, your hard work that will make the difference.

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Thanks, Mom. I just... I feel alive out there, you know? His fingers tapped an absent rhythm on his desk, mimicking the beat of a dribbling ball.

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Then hold onto that feeling, Ryan, she encouraged. Hold onto it tight and let it guide you, no matter what anyone says.

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He nodded, bolstering himself with her faith in him, as he packed his backpack for school the next day.

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The school corridors echoed with the chatter of students, but Ryan's focus was elsewhere—on the upcoming tryouts, on the endless drills he'd practice later. That was until he was snapped back by the jeering voice of a classmate.

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Hey, Parker! Still dreaming of being the next soccer superstar, huh? Jeff, a tall boy with a smirk that seemed permanently etched on his face, blocked Ryan's path.

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Maybe I am, Ryan retorted, trying to sidestep him.

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Come on, man. You've got to be realistic, another joined in, laughter lacing his words. You're better off sticking to the books. Pros are a whole different league.

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Ryan felt the heat rise in his cheeks, but his mother's words reverberated in his heart. Maybe, but I won't know unless I try, right? And I'm going to give it everything I've got.

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Suit yourself, Jeff shrugged. But don't come crying when you end up playing nothing but fantasy league.

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Thanks for the advice, Ryan shot back, though his fists clenched at his sides. But I'll take my chances on the real field.

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As he walked away, the mockery faded behind him, replaced by the echo of a stadium cheering in his imagination. Each step was a defiance, each breath a rehearsal for the day he'd prove them wrong.

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The sun had begun its descent, casting a golden hue across the soccer field as Ryan laced up his cleats. He could feel the eyes of Coach Maria Hernandez on him, scrutinizing every player as they warmed up.

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Alright, team, Coach Hernandez's voice cut through the chatter like a whistle. She stood with her arms crossed, a clipboard in one hand. Today, we drill until perfection becomes second nature.

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Ryan nodded to himself, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He was ready.

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Ryan, she called out, beckoning him over with a tilt of her head. He jogged towards her, curiosity piqued.

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Coach?

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Your footwork has improved, she began, her gaze assessing. But it's your heart that'll make or break you in this game. You got passion, kid. Don't waste it.

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Thank you, Coach, Ryan said, feeling a swell of pride. I want to be great.

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Good, she replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Because I'm holding extra training sessions before school. It's voluntary for those who want more...for those aiming for excellence.

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Ryan's heart skipped a beat. This was his chance, the push he needed. I'll be there, he affirmed without hesitation.

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Sharp at 6 AM. Don't be late, she warned, pointing a stern finger before turning back to address the team.

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Team! Her voice rang out. Let's show what dedication looks like!

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The players responded with a unified shout, their voices mingling with the evening air. Ryan returned to his spot on the field, the grass beneath his feet now a promise of what was to come.

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Ryan's alarm clock screamed into the dark, breaking the silence of predawn. He slapped it off and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Faint streetlights cast a dim glow as he shuffled into his clothes—shorts and a t-shirt already bearing the faded logo of his soccer club. His mother was still asleep; he made sure to be quiet as he grabbed his gear and slipped out the front door.

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He stood alone at the bus stop, the cold bite of the morning air making him jog in place to stay warm. Finally, the bus groaned to a halt in front of him, its doors opening with a tired hiss. He climbed aboard, heading straight for the back where he could stretch out and visualize the drills ahead.

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By the time Ryan reached the field, Coach Hernandez was already there, setting up cones and goals under the pale wash of sunrise.

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Morning, Coach, Ryan said, his breath visible in the chilly air.

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Ryan, Coach Hernandez greeted without looking up. You're first. Good.

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Wouldn't miss it, Ryan replied, dropping his bag and beginning his stretches.

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Let's start with dribbling drills. I want to see precision, not just speed, Coach Hernandez instructed, her voice echoing slightly in the empty field.

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Got it, Ryan said, taking his position at the starting cone.

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Remember, every touch counts, she called out as he started weaving through the cones. Control is just as important as flair.

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Ryan focused on the ball, each tap a measured beat. The repetition was grueling but necessary, and he knew it.

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Good, now switch feet, Coach Hernandez directed. Her eyes followed his movement intently, missing nothing.

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Coach, how do you always know when I've got more to give? Ryan asked during a brief water break, panting.

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Because I've seen what happens when you dig deep, she replied. You have talent, Ryan, but talent alone doesn't win matches.

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Then I'll give everything I've got, Ryan promised, wiping sweat from his brow.

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Show me, she challenged, pointing to the next drill setup.

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Every morning unfolded in much the same way: Ryan would rise before the sun, chase it across the sky with his relentless practice, and then watch it sink again in the evening. His muscles ached, his body protested, but his spirit never wavered.

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Last one, Ryan! Coach Hernandez shouted as the morning wore on.

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Ready, he responded, bracing himself.

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Go!

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And he did—over and over again.

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Ryan's cleats dug into the soft earth as he pivoted, sending the ball arching toward the goal. It sailed past outstretched fingers and thudded against the net—a clean shot. He barely had time to revel in the moment when a voice cut through his triumph.

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Nice shot, Parker. But luck isn't a reliable teammate.

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Ethan Davis stood at the edge of the field, arms folded across his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. His presence was like a sudden cloud over the sun.

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Skill, Ethan, not luck, Ryan retorted, retrieving the ball for another attempt.

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Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ethan quipped back.

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Maybe if you focused less on sleep and more on practice, you'd understand the difference, a new voice joined the exchange.

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Avery Johnson stepped onto the pitch, her short blonde hair catching the sunlight, her posture confident and assured—the epitome of what years playing professional soccer could forge in a person.

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Ryan, ignore the noise, Avery said, walking over and offering him a fist bump. You've got potential that's louder than any heckler.

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Thanks, Avery. Ryan returned the gesture, feeling a boost from her words.

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Potential? Cute, Ethan scoffed, kicking at the grass. Come on, Parker, show me something real.

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Alright then, Ryan muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

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Let him get to you, and he's already won, Avery advised her voice low and even. Use that fire in your belly to fuel your game, not your temper.

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Got it, Ryan nodded, focusing on the ball once again.

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Hey, Ethan, Avery called out, her eyes locked on Ryan's rival. Care for a little wager?

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Oh? Ethan's interest piqued. I'm listening.

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Ryan here scores three more like that last one, and you run laps until I say stop.

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And if he doesn't? Ethan asked, his eyebrow raised in amusement.

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Then I'll run them, Avery replied with an unwavering gaze.

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Deal, Ethan grinned, clearly seeing only an easy win ahead.

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Let's see it, Parker, Ethan challenged, stepping back to watch.

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Ryan took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Avery's confidence in him. He approached the ball, every sense sharpened. The first strike was powerful, precise—goal. Ethan's smile wavered. The second, a masterclass in control—goal. Doubt flickered in Ethan's eyes. And the third, a testament to Ryan's countless hours of practice—goal.

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Looks like you've got some running to do, Avery said, her tone light but firm.

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Whatever, Ethan muttered, but he started jogging around the field, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

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Thanks, Avery, Ryan said as they watched Ethan round the corner.

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Thank him instead, she gestured toward Ethan. Opponents like that are gifts. They push you harder than you might push yourself.

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Then I guess I owe him a 'thank you' card, Ryan joked, the earlier tension melting away under the glow of his success.

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Save it for the field, Avery laughed. That's where the real conversations happen.

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Right, Ryan agreed, picking up the ball. Back to work then?

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Always, Avery confirmed with a nod. Let's go again.

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Pass it here, Mom! Ryan called out, the soccer ball spinning through the air as his mother kicked it back to him in their backyard.

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Nice control, Mrs. Julie Parker praised, her hands on her hips as she watched her son maneuver the ball with ease. You've been practicing.

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Every day after school, and then some, Ryan replied, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion. He paused, placing a foot on top of the ball and looking up at his mother. But sometimes, I wonder if it's enough.

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Ryan, his mother began, stepping closer, her voice soft but firm, you work harder than anyone I know. You juggle school and soccer like a pro already.

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Thanks, Mom. But it's tough when everyone else seems to think grades are all that matter. Ryan sighed, leaning forward to pick up the ball.

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Let them think what they want, she said, reaching out to ruffle his messy brown hair affectionately. We believe in dreams here, right? And hard work pays off, always.

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Even when Ethan Davis laughs in my face? Ryan asked, a determined glint appearing in his eyes.

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Especially then. Her smile was unwavering. Because you know what you're working towards. Proving doubters wrong is just part of your journey.

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Yeah, I guess you're right, Ryan admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. I'll keep practicing, keep playing—

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Keep dreaming, his mother interjected. Don't you ever stop dreaming, Ryan.

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Never, Ryan promised, bouncing the ball once against the ground before catching it. I'm going to make it, Mom. One day, I'll be out there, on a real pitch, in front of thousands.

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I know you will. And I'll be right there, cheering the loudest, she declared, her pride evident in her shining eyes.

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Thanks, Mom, Ryan said, hugging her quickly before turning back toward the house.

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As dusk settled around him, Ryan returned to his bedroom, the walls plastered with posters of soccer legends. His gaze fixed on one poster in particular—the image of his favorite player, mid-kick, the epitome of grace and power.

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Like you said, Mom, Ryan whispered to himself, never stop dreaming. He traced the outline of the player's figure on the poster, feeling a kinship with the image. I'll work for it, fight for it, and one day, I'll be there too.

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He stepped back, his eyes never leaving the poster as he clenched his fists by his side, solidifying his resolve.

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Ryan's voice boomed with unwavering determination, his eyes burning with a fierce resolve. The world better be ready, he vowed, his words dripping with unshakable confidence. I am going to make it as a professional soccer player, no matter what sacrifices I have to make.

CHAPTER 2

Ryan Parker sat cross-legged on his bed, the dim glow from his desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls plastered with soccer posters. Icons of the sport smiled down at him, frozen mid-kick or