My 7th Grade Year of Basketball

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It was a cool crisp autumn day. The smell of old rubber mixed with a subtle hint of sweat filled the old rugged gym. The sound of sneakers squeaking on hardwood and long hard panting noises were accustomed to this setting. “Bro, basketball tryouts are coming up! You gonna sign up?” Jouse, my best friend, asked me “Yeah of course!” I exclaimed. Almost spontaneously the coach appeared behind us only to write our names on the sign-up sheet then give us a glance with a slight smirk on his face just before he disappeared into the clustered school hallway. TRYOUTS TOMORROW wrote in bold faced across the bottom of the sign-up sheet gave light to us. The next day I came bright and early at six thirty in the morning. Just as the sun creaked its bright light I walked through the old rusted door of our glorious school gym only to find half the school in wait to begin tryouts. I was nervous, almost scared. What if I’m warmed up, what if I’m not steady, what if I’m too cold, right there and then every single horrible situation flashed before my eyes. Whether it was me tripping over my untied shoelaces or a state of the art jet crashing through the ceiling only giving bodily injury to me. But before i knew it tryouts were over and not a single thing had gone wrong. To this day I still can’t remember a single thing i did in practice that year. Walking out the door I came to an abrupt halt as coach stops me with a serious face as usual. “Good job out there Jobin, we could use more kids like you on our team.” Coach stated “Gee thanks coach” I said in hope that I had pleased him He nods his head then says “You’re on” he then walks out of the gym without saying a word “Yes, yes, yes!” I exclaimed in a soft voice to myself The games was... ... middle of paper ... ...ng my arm, a loud snap came from the sound of my arm and their centers's hand. I had been fouled and the whistle had been blown, but the ball was still in the air I watched as it made three bounces on the rim, BOUNCE, BOUNCE, BOUNCE, BOUNCE went the ball. Then after a suspenseful four seconds of rolling on the rim, it finally tipped in. I looked up with a smile at my coach who gave me a smile and a thumbs up right back at me. SWISH went my free throw. As I jogged back to the end of the court I could tell this would be a good game. The rest of that day went like a breeze. Going back home, taking a shower, eating, then going to sleep in my bed. As I laid more tired than ever I painted to myself “Fifty-five to twenty-three, damn we lost bad” From then on I never looked at a basketball without thinking of the ver fat hanging from the black, sweaty, crinkled center.

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