The Ultimate Adrenaline Rush

Silence. I waited, half standing and half sitting, as any inexperienced paintball player would, looking for any sign that I should attack. I found myself as unsure than President Bush giving his state of the Union Address. I was alert to the extent where the marker I was holding crawled through my hands as I shook intensely with fear. I wasn't even sure what to do once I found what I was looking for, and that's what terrified me the most. There was no sense of control, no possible way for me to make it out of this. I somehow had to drag myself through this one game, while trying not to get too overwhelmed and out of breath.

Then I heard it. A powerful shot cracked like a whip from what seemed like the north of me, which was followed by continuous bursts of fire from what had to have been all sides of me. The piece of thin, white sheet metal which was source of protection vibrated and sounded as if hail the size of golf balls were raining down on it. I was under heavy fire, there had to have been at least three of my opponents ganging up on me. I noticed Kyle to my right ducking and hopping back up with excellent skill, managing to pop out a few shots here and there, hoping to hit someone. The large, forked tree providing him protection was covered in paint of multiple colors. When Kyle went back up for one more shot, a paintball slipped through the fork in the tree, and pelted him in the side of his mask. I heard him say he was out, and he withdrew a white flag from his pocket as he exited the field with his marker in the air.

I was terrified. I wished Kyle or one of the twenty others had warned me that paintball would be so intense prior to driving out to Kyle's yard and playing with everyone. I was about the youngest in the group though, at about 12 years old, and I assumed that everyone expected me to fail miserably at such an intense sport.

Not only did the others neglect to warn me about the dangers of paintball, but I wasn't even informed of the objective of this particular game. As I poked my head around my paint-covered excuse for a bunker, I noticed a flag waving in the wind, perched upon a long board, which was set across a narrow trench. The objective of the game became clear to me when I saw an opponent move towards the board supporting the red flag, arms outstretched as if to swipe the flag and retreat immediately, as he was struck with bright green paint and exited the field.

The paint continued to fly as I withdrew my head and lost my field of vision. The sounds of the guns continued, and my mind went loose. I was losing my interpretation of the game, and I knew I was going to have to do something to keep myself and my team mates in the game.

"It's just a game," I told myself allowed, for no one else to hear.

I was getting way too wrapped up into the game. I became much less afraid of getting hit once I realized the sport was no different than any other, the objective is to have fun. So I decided to have some fun with it! The large, forked tree to my right was still open where Kyle had been held down. I noticed that the fire in this general section of the field had faded, and I knew it was my time to make a contribution to the team.

With my heart providing a drum roll, I immediately rose up off my dirt-caked knees, and bolted from my position while nearly slipping in the loose ground. While running, my adrenaline spike caused me to shoot in just about every direction, while focused on one opponent firing at me. I slid across the ground in front of the tree, rose up, and repositioned myself for combat.

Still breathing hard, I placed my back against the tree with my marker facing away from my chest, and took a peak over my shoulder. Clear as day, I saw an unrecognized opponent who was standing out in the open, firing to hold down my team mate. I turned to face my opponent, stepped out into the open. I pointed my marker in the general direction of the opponent, focusing on his white shirt. I firing the gun what must have been about 10 times, watching each paintball barely miss him, swerving around the mass of his body just before they would have hit him. I fired once more, just before positioning myself behind the forked tree.

"Hit!" I heard the player yell in response to my fire.

I finally had done something useful to my team, I've suppressed some enemy fire, allowing my team mates to get more movement across the field, and potentially capture the flag and win the game! I took advantage of the situation, and stood back out in the open, making sure no opponents were focused on me. I was safe. I knew I had to move up and get closer to the flag if I were to either win this game for our team, or at least help us win it.

I ran straight towards the flag, and slowed down immediately before, noticing the mask of an opponent appear from behind a tree. I assumed correctly, and got lucky that I was able to hide behind a pile of uprooted and rotten trees before taking heavy on fire from the enemy.

Now, getting really into the game and having a sense of hope, I was much less afraid and more confident. I crawled to the right edge of my cover, to take a shot at the attacker to the front right. The enemy suppressed his fire, I guessed it was because he lost track of where I was. The enemy stood out too far into the open, attempting to find where I was and get a good view, and my finger hit the trigger almost instinctively. After firing at my own bunker inches in front of me several times, a few shots managed to make it out and hit the confused enemy.

I withdrew myself back into my root-constructed bunker, and assessed the situation and the players remaining. Looking around, I realized that I was by myself. All of my team mates had already been hit and were no longer playing. I was scared that I was out numbered, and came into a state of panic.

I found myself poking my head up in every direction, attempting to gain a visual on opponents. Nothing. There had to have been someone out there, or the game wouldn't be still going.

I noticed that there were only about 10 feet between me and the flag. I decided to risk it. I exited my bunker through the same side I was previously firing on, assuming that the remaining opponent or opponents were least likely to be in the spot I most recently had fire over. As I stood up from my bunker, I saw movement across the trench. I was spotted.

I abruptly set my paintball marker down, I knew the worse was coming. I bolted for the flag, its flap blowing in the wind and teasing me, just a few feet ahead of where I was running from, as if it knew how I longed for it.

Then the firing started. The player remaining opened fire on me to the point where I was surprised I wasn't hit immediately. I ran with all of my might, hoping I wasn't hit, and slid across the board, and grabbed the flag. It was at this exact second that I felt at least 10 paintballs hit me. I was stopped for a brief second after capturing the flag, which left the opponent just enough time to site in on me and put in a few shots. I fell into the trench. I was entirely soaked, and aching from the several shots.

I won the game! I captured the flag before getting hit, and my team was extremely proud of my triumph. The player who shot me apologized, and the playing day went on as planned.

One's first game of paintball can determine a lot of characteristics about their personality. In my first game of paintball, the world opened up to me. I realized that in the hardest of situations, there is always an option to get yourself out of trouble. Problems tend to work their selves out so long as you maintain a positive attitude. Paintball taught me that life is all about never giving up, and that the goals in life that seem to be just out of your reach are infinitely rewarding once you have reached them.