Sam's New and Improved Bad Paragraph

Soccer is usually a blast, but last week we had a practice that made us all miserable, depressed zombies! From the start of the practice everyone could see that our coach, who is almost as nice as Mr. G., was in a fowl mood (so bad that if he had a mood ring on it would explode). The second practice started he put on the most fake smile I have ever seen. We had to run FIVE MORE LAPS THAN USUAL! My legs felt like rubber strings tied to 70 pound weights. The worst part of it all was that was just the beginning of the work out. The second we were done with our laps he had us start on our sprints otherwise known as “suicides”. After the longest ten minutes of my life, he let us stop. I think I get why they call them suicides. After dry heaving four times during my coach’s explanation of a drill, my coach screamed at me to sit down. When I was finally allowed back onto the field, we did some more drills that should have been called “suicides plus”. After half an hour more of those drills, the coach was about to give us the a soccer ball so we could finally play, but our practice time was over. I hobbled home thinking maybe I’d switch to chess.

by Sam