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Essay on a party in college
Narrative essay-a party i attended
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That day, you were in a hurry. You had been at a party until three in the morning, and then spent the next three hours playing silly games in the hotel room you rented. Now you were dressed, so you and your friends straddled your bikes and thundered down the highway. You had twenty minutes to be there, and there was little traffic, so you revved it all the way up to 80 on the open road and the rest of the guys followed suit. A combination of sleep deprivation and the glare from the sun (even with your visor down) was likely responsible for your misjudging that hard right turn, or so you said as you told the story later. Honestly, you did not recall the moment when you lost control, nor how many somersaults you and your bike performed before …show more content…
It had been the longest game of your life and this was the visitor’s final drive and your one shining moment. In the first five downs, you had been flattened trying to hold back the enemy line, leaving you out of breath, with a fractured rib and more bruises than you had gotten in eighth grade when you tried to slug Charlie Miller for insulting your mom. This play, however, was different. The ‘backer in front of you dodged to your right to clear a hole for the runner, but the fullback fumbled the hand-off. You spied the ball even as it left his hands. You leapt through the center to avoid the two halfbacks sent for protection, and as the line folded downfield, you scooped up the wildly bouncing ball and pumped every last ounce of energy into your legs. As you flew down the field, ignoring the pain in your knee (that knee finally gave out while skiing in the Rockies last year), it was more like the field passed around you. The gridiron rolled forward under your feet, the golden “Y” of the field goal looming large and larger. You heard no crowd shouting as you dived exhausted into the end zone. Your hearing returned on the final syllable of the announcer’s best Howard Cosell impression, “He could. . . go. . . all. . . the. . . way!” The score was now 34-30 and you had saved the final home game of the season. When the visitors wasted the final 30 seconds, the crowd rushed the field, and the fireworks were ignited, lighting up the sky, illuminating the surprised looks on your teammates’ faces as they pat you on the back and give you a sip of
I woke up at six to shower and eat breakfast. We were out the door and 6:30 and off to Ashland, Nebraska. We had the hammer down only stopping in Ashland to grab three Red Bulls apiece. We chugged our energy drinks while driving a couple miles out of town to the raceway hoping to get awaken by the rush of the sugar. We parked our truck by our buddy Jacob after getting signed in and paying our entry fees. We made fun of Jacob for awhile for being such a die hard and having to be one of the first ones at the track. Setting up our canopy and unloading our bikes took about 5 minutes because we wanted to hurry up and walk the track. The track was a freaking mud pit. They had overwatered it. I was hoping that it would stay a little muddier after practice until the moto’s because I could out ride three-fourths of the guys in my class in the mud. After the track walk we all walked back to our trucks and got our gear on. The C riders were first to practice. The first kid to start up his bike just revved the piss out of it not letting it warm up like it should. We started shaking our heads because our dads taught us to respect your things and not mistreat them. Leaving our little camp
Before the start of the game I was told to guard their best receiver because nobody else could keep up with him. Even though i was fast, I was definitely not as fast as him. He was like lightning, speeding past me and making quick, subtle turns that were hard to predict. I was so tired from guarding him all game that by the end of the first half I felt like collapsing. When they hiked the ball, I made sure that I tried my best to stop him from getting the ball. Without failing to surprise me, he predicted my next move and feinted left and then turning right. I fell for the trick, and his quarterback threw the ball to him. He caught it and started running down the field. I sprinted after him. I put the rest of my energy into this run. As I got closer and closer to him, an idea formed in my head. When I got close enough I would dive for his flag, hoping to pull it before he reached the end zone. It was not a very intelligent idea, but it could’ve worked. When I was almost touching him, I dove. I missed the flag by millimeters. As I hit the ground I heard a loud ‘POP’ in my shoulder. Instantly I knew that I had broken a
The horn blew and the game started, Dedham won the face off and is running down the field at a faster pace than I was used to. They shot the ball! I couldn’t move my stick quick enough to save it, so I threw my body in front of it and got hit right in the shoulder. It hurt a lot, but what I hadn’t realized was that it hit my shoulder and reflected ten feet away from the net where my player caught it and ran down the field and scored. The other team didn’t know what hit them. It was the half now and the score was three to nothing in our favor. Our couch told us that we needed to keep up the good work.
The roaring of the crowd on November 17 at Bank of America Stadium in Charlotte, NC finally fell silent late in the fourth quarter after star linebacker Luke Kuechly was slow to get off the field after a huge hit to the head. American’s live to be entertained, and the football field is one of the main sources of enjoyment for many. Immediately after Kuechly’s hit, it was quiet in the stadium for the first time that day. The fans watched in fear, waiting to see if their star player could finish the game and bring out the win. However, they all became disappointed as Kuechly shed tears while being carted off the field, not because they were worried about the player and his head but because they feared about losing the game. Americans want excitement,
I recall looking into the passionate eyes of one of my fellow seniors and telling him, “We have twenty-four minutes of football left in our lives, let’s make them count.” Our team continued to resist the embarrassment of helplessness in the second half, but it appeared obvious that we were outmatched. We lacked size, strength, speed, and proper teaching; four things that highly increase your chances of winning a football game. With around two minutes left in the football game Newton had the ball. I remember thinking “This will be the last drive of my life.” The temperature continued to drop, and we were losing forty five to
Do you believe that Chaucer thinks courtly love provides a useful set of rules and behaviors to guide man and women in their relationship?
Riley, our starting quarterback, placed his hands on the helmet of the right tackle, as he did every play. He called the play looking straight into my eyes signaling the pass was coming to me. My entire body tingled with excitement as I ran to the left of the field. I could feel my cleats dig into the soft, freshly cut field as I took my stance. I looked up into the sky seeing only white lights which created the stage for the football field. As I brought my head down slowly to see the white eyes of the defender across from me, my heart beat slowed and I was still, in peace for the short moment. The quarterback hiked the ball and I began in pursuit; shifting, juking to get away from my defender. We were side-by-side running down the field as the ball was thrown into the air, coming strait to me. I jumped up and became airborne, snagging it from the lit up, night sky. Falling back with the ball secured into my arms, I felt my defenders full weight push into my left leg. A snap rang out as we hit the ground together and I looked down to see a large bump sticking straight left out of my
I wish to take this opportunity to introduce myself. My name is Jack Miller, a photographer by profession. Ever since my youthful years, I have had this growing obsession with shooting and sharing photography works and I have over time worked on it day and night for perfection. I have spent enough time, effort and all necessary resources to enhance my skills in this area to ensure that I not only deliver quality work but that I also present you unique, dazzling and magical shoots that surpass your expectations.
The play was "Red 334"which is a run to our halfback, me, out of our dive series. I crouched over the ball as I jetted past the quarterback and ran the play so we could observe the changes we needed to make. I let out a sigh of relief because we were finished with the most dreaded part of practice; well, only until someone complained about not knowing their job on one of our pass plays. Coach Nelson undoubtedly decided we needed to run through the final pass play before we perfected our defense. The play was quietly called in the huddle with intentions of getting it right. I ran the play through my mind while I tried to remember what the snap count was and what I was supposed to do for that play. The ball was snapped and I jolted to the left of our team's quarterback to set up his backside protection. Out of my peripheral vision, I noticed the defensive end raging toward the quarterback. I intensely stepped into him while lowering my body and exploded through his shoulder pads sending him stumbling into the line's pass protection.
One one thousand. The stands are filled with men, women, and children waving their hands and homemade signs. The cheers coming from the crowd make it hard for me to hear. I smell the hot dogs, popcorn, and pizza being sold at the concession stand. The marching band has just left the field with the tuba player’s last note still ringing in my ear. In the fourth quarter with us in the lead by five the scoreboard shows six seconds. The coach yells, “It’s time to go”! I strap on my helmet with great enthusiasm and head towards the field to take my position.
It was a hot, Thursday afternoon. So hot you could burn your hand by touching a window. So hot, you could fry an egg on the sidewalk. Three weeks from now was the best day in 2th grade, field day. Today we were picking relay teams
“How did you do it?” was probably something that people were saying to Arthur Miller as his career as a playwright became a success. Now he could have possibly responded with, “Oh, it’s just luck” or “It could have happened to anybody”, but the main reason for Arthur Miller’s success was most definitely the road that led him there. There are so many aspects to one person’s life that shape and detail the way that they perceive everything. Arthur Miller was born in an era when America was prime, lived through a war and a depression, and ended up becoming a successful playwright.
Bringing my eyes back to the screen I realize something, we are not obligated to work against the other team. With that sudden realization everything clicks, and the results were staggering. Almost immediately the tables turned we were now the ones forcing them in the corner. Anxiety and excitement culminated into one indescribable emotion that made everything else melt away. Suddenly it was just me and my team, not them v.s us, just my team and the goal we so desperately clawed towards. Intense fighting that lasts for what feels like hours is over in the blink of an eye. We
Everyone knew that this game was going to be impossible to win, so we all sort of shrugged it off. The last practice before this game consisted of reminiscing more than drills. Even our coach knew we were going to get killed, but for some reason everyone had in the back of their minds ‘what if…’
It was a warm spring day. The skies were blue and all of the third graders at recess were running around on the playground. I had been sliding across on the “zipline” for the entire recess thus far.