When I was young, I had a lot of time for myself. Because both of my parents worked and my sisters were busy with their school lives, my friends were very important to me. My sisters wouldn't play a game of marbles or slap-match with me, so I needed friends all the more. I was happy with anything we did, as long we I spent the time together, whether it was just running aimlessly down the sloping road of the town, or playing with a spinning top until I was soaked with sweat. Of course, I can't leave out the memories at the arcade stores.

The arcades were an exciting new world to me and my friends. Sitting in a dark corner of the arcade store, we were immersed in the games until we couldn't hear the clanging of coins in our pockets. When I ran out of coins, I watched my skillful friends play, and played the game mentally by watching. I was content, whether it was sitting there for one hour or two hours; I didn't get up until the owner of the store kicked me out, or when my parents came looking for me.

I can't remember whether I was competitive as a child, but I am certain that I never fell behind my friends in anything that we did. Especially since my friends and I were good enough to take on the challengers of the town in the arcade games.

One afternoon, as the sun was setting, I was absorbed in a fighting game. Punch! Flying kick! Spinning kick! Finding the opponent's weakness, I employed all kinds of magnificent techniques and was having an exciting fight to the finish. Though the game was only controlled by my fingers, I was using my entire body to fight in the game. Then I heard the sound of the door opening. Right away I had a bad feeling about it. Immediately the footsteps sounded to be coming closer. Even in the midst of the noisy arcade games, I could hear them. My eyes and hands were deeply engaged in the game, but my ears pricked at the noise, cautiously listening to the footsteps. Then suddenly, the sounds disappeared.

"Slap." The slap on the back stung. "Yohwan!" My mom had entered the arcade store while she was looking for me. In a situation like that, one can't hesitate to give up the game. I just ran. I ran home before my mom could arrive. As long as I fled from the critical moment, I knew that my mom's heart would soften and she wouldn't punish me as bad when she got home. But my dad was different. There was no way of escaping on the day that my dad arrived at the arcades. My dad disciplined me with a stick, and never allowed his one and only youngest son to spend the time at the arcades instead of studying.

But it was only momentary. I went to the arcades the next day, even after being chastised by my dad. My dad that punished me, sighing in distress of what I might become- I wonder how he felt, when I told him that I would continue playing games even after the age of twenty, those games that I played since I was a child. It's most certain that my dad must have been disappointed and worried. Maybe that is why I tried harder as a progamer; to be a better son, a son that he could be proud of.

Did I become a progamer because of the skills that I've acquired in the arcades? There are times when I think that I've been able to become a progamer because of soccer. One could wonder what the connection is between soccer and games. Soccer requires great amounts of stamina and physical strength. At the time, I was strong enough to run around the field all day and not become exhausted. Soccer is also an aggressive, full body-contact sport; it can be a sport that one would not like very much, if they are not so competitive. Perhaps I was born with an inclination towards sports. At the same time, I’m fortunate to have been born in an era of e-sports.

Since my elementary years, there were many soccer clubs, but I had not once considered learning soccer professionally. I think my parents had some influence in it. To my parents, a student's most important task was to study. When my parents knew the truth of my playing soccer in the field everyday, they became very worried that I might try to play soccer professionally. It seems that they were worried that their only son may become seriously injured while playing soccer, or that being a professional athlete would be too physically demanding; ultimately, they opposed my becoming a soccer player.

So what if I can't become an athlete? When I attended school, I enjoyed spending the free time playing soccer with my friends. In middle school, there were tournaments among the classrooms. Our group didn't particularly play the best, but we were to play against the class that was expected to win the tournament. Normally, when I played soccer, I simply enjoyed running and playing with my friends, and wasn't concerned with winning or losing.

But there are certain games that you must win, like this class soccer tournament. Because they were the favored group, many people thought that we would most certainly lose. But the match is only determined by the whistle of the referee. As long as they don't score, will we not win?

I was the goalkeeper. In a neighborhood soccer game, where the skills were similar, the goalkeeper's role is an important variable. And I blocked every ball that came flying towards the goal. Whether it is studying, soccer, or games, the most important variable is the persistence in winning and how hard you try with concentration. I tried my best in my part as a goalkeeper; it was simply the idea of a goalkeeper's role of not letting the ball enter the goal. The result was 1:0, our victory. My friends and I cheered happily.

But the teacher of the opposing class approached me. "Our class lost because of you. Because you didn't get scored on, at least you can get a knock on the head." The teacher of the losing class spited me, as he knocked me on the head with his knuckles. When I think about it, it seems that I really made an effort to block each ball. I don't know where that strength came from.

Soccer didn't just teach me how to be competitive. There are rules in a soccer match. The players move according to the rules. But every player's movements are different. There are those that freeze in fear when the opponent tries to tackle, and those that crumple to the ground when hit by another player. Those players can never taste the joy of victory.

It may be hard when a bigger player collides with me and I may fall to the ground, but if the ball is given to me, I must run towards the goal. Under no circumstances should I lose the ball to my opponents. If they steal the ball from me, I should have the competitive nature to be able to pursue him with my dying strength and steal it. This is what I learned from soccer. Like sprinting towards the goal, I must sprint down my path; like winning a soccer match, I will continue running forward until I am the victor of my life.