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Amy Makechnie Biography

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“Even now, when Benny and I are running down the soccer field and the wind is blowing through my Messi hair and the crowd is chanting my name (hey, I can dream, right?) and the sun is shining on my face and I'm going so fast I feel like I'm flying - he's with me. My dad. I feel him everywhere, but especially on the field. With me. His Golden Boy.”

“You were teeny tiny like a baby tomato. But you've gotten so big! And you're going to keep growing until you're bigger and stronger and taller. So instead of thinking about dying, how about you think about how awesome it is to be alive? Dad can't run right now, but you can. Dad can't jump right now, but Roma can! Before you die you get to LIVE!”

“He struggles to sit as straight as possible. And it is a struggle - I can see the fight for every single muscle fiber in his body. Sometimes I've felt he was too accepting, when all I wanted was for him to put up a fight. But right now I see the fire that flares up in his eyes. the look I've seen countless times when he was pushing me to be stronger and better.”

“I don't think about what it will be like to say good-bye. I don't ask about her leaving. I don't think about how sad I'll be without her, or say I'll miss her or how life will be a perfect graveyard without her living next door for the rest of our lives...Lucy's eyes, deep and blue and flecked with light from dancing disco stars hanging from the ceiling, remind me of the sky, but also of water. I've never been to Maine, but I imagine that the color of the ocean there looks something like Lucy's blue eyes.”

“All the preparation for this very moment is behind you. You've practiced and sprinted in hot and humid weather until you thought you were going to barf. You've worked on your touch, your through balls, your shots. You've psyched each other up. You are ready to win this game because you are the best-conditioned and most unselfish team out there. Let's go do what we can do! -Coach”

“The game isn't over until we stop fighting. Like my ten thousand hours chart. Ten thousand touches. Ten thousand tries. Ten thousand spectacular fails until you finally get it. I'm trying so hard to stay positive. Just because I'm failing right now doesn't mean I'll stop. Believe me, if I could, I'd never doubt again. I'd believe every single second and never stop.”

“Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. It's three long words, and I can say it faster than anyone in the family, like a ninja-twister champ. I didn't mean to get so good at it, but it goes through my head over and over like a soccer move I can't shake. It's a super-frustrating disease to fight. One day a muscle moves - the next day? Nope.”

“Only a tiny chip of paint is missing from my most recent hit. But hey, if you value boring, unchipped doorframes and sloppy ball control, by all means, keep the soccer ball outside or sitting neglected in the garage for nine months out of the year. From firsthand experience I know that until you master the ball, it has to roll across kitchen floors, hit walls, windows, cupboards, your little Squirrel sisters - and your snarling older one, too. The ball flies off your knees and hits the telephones, breaks dishes, and busts windowpanes until you can control it from ever hitting anything you don’t want it to again. That’s the price you pay for greatness.”