It was a hot, steamy day for an afternoon soccer game. I was 14 years old and forgot to eat before so I was light headed and hungry. My team was losing by a few goals but I was too hungry to care. From where I stood at midfield, bored and starving, I had a perfect view of the blackening clouds and the thunder storm approaching.

The longer the game went on, the darker the sky got. The storm approached a lot faster than had been expected and raindrops started to pour.

The refs quickly blew their whistles to call off the game. The entire team ran toward the cars to avoid getting drenched.  We all sat facing the field to wait for the end of the storm.  The tornado touched down on the soccer field. A few miles away, I could make out another twister dropping from the clouds.

In a flurry of flying wet blankets, lawn chairs, and soccer bags, all the parents quickly reversed to depart from the ferocious storm. Accidents were inevitable as everyone tried to leave. My mother nervously tried to back out the car but got trapped in from the collision behind. I wanted to run but couldn’t. My mother was trying to talk to me but I couldn’t pay attention. I was no longer hungry but feared for my life.

My eyes were still locked on the soccer field with the approaching tornado. I looked closely and saw the referee trying to run to safety, but he couldn’t. He was pulled back into the fierce current.

I got out of the car and sprinted in the opposite direction. All I could hear was the noise of my cleats hit the cement and the muted rhythm of blood pulsing against my ears.

I will never forget the look on the referee's face.

I witnessed a beautiful disaster. I never felt so alive.