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The importance of teamwork
Benefits and challenges of teamwork
The importance of teamwork
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After 3 events, we had the only one event left which was the dodgeball tournament. We didn’t really satisfy at all the events we did so far, because we lost them by big amount of points. However, we still didn’t quit since we had one more event, dodgeball tournament. When our company’s turned to play dodgeball, we pulled up our posters that we spent hours on the night before and painted our faces with light blue. We all screamed as loud as we could so that our members could hear us from other side of gym and we actually called each members names that were playing the dodgeball. We had one dramatic moment when we only had one guy left and other company had 3 people. I thought we would lose this game because 3 people from other company actually
played well and they were bigger than our guy. However, we didn’t stop cheering for our company so at the end our company boy caught the ball so the last member from the other company’s member was out. Even though we didn’t get high places from the dodgeball we still had the best spirit company out of 7 companies. I felt blessed to have this group as a family.
To make it even harder to focus, we could hear the music of another guard’s performance throughout warmup. I encouraged my team to stay focus on how we want to perform. As we prepared to perform, several girls began crying and hugging as if we were already done. I talked to each girl I passed and told them that it was time to focus and to show this crowd how good we are. That performance was the perfect ending to the season; it was everything we had worked for. However, we weren’t done yet; we still had to fold our floor, put away our flags, and get ready for the awards ceremony. On our way to put away our equipment, one of my girls started crying and apologizing for a mistake she had made, afraid that she compromised the show. I told her immediately that whatever score we made, we earned it as a team. I comforted her with my own struggles of perfectionism and feelings of inadequacy, but those feelings don’t necessarily reflect our
I have been playing softball since the age of six. From the time I could walk, my dad had me out in our yard teaching me how to swing a bat and throw a ball. Growing up, softball is all I have known. Both of my parents played softball and baseball growing up and in college. They both have taught me everything they know about the sport. Softball has taught me more than the physical aspect of the game. In softball a player can strike out seven out of ten times and still be considered a good hitter. Everyone has rough days, but I have realized that I just need to come back the next day and work harder. My parents have showed me that working hard at it will help me succeed. Whenever I have a bad game, instead of getting down, I take it as motivation to try harder the next time.
The game began as each of us started to kick the ball back and forth to one another. Our game of KickBall is not like the original Kickball game, you see the objective is to kick the most balls onto the other side of the team, as far as you can, and as many you can. For me we had our teams decided, the teams were 2v2 for a brief moment until more classmates randomly joined in the game. On my team were me and Tj, as for the other team were Victor and Charles. As we kick the balls at each other with great force we began to run side to side while kicking them as if we were playing a game of Hot Potato except we were using kickballs, while running at the same time battling it out. Victor rushed pass as he lift a blue kickball into the air and kicked the ball into my direction to slow me down to stop it from getting past me too far. The ball flew over my head when I looked up into the sky watching it hover over my head so slow, so high, and not to mention too
Baseball was my life for fifteen years; learning values and tracing favorite memories back to my baseball journey make me grateful for these experiences. However, after a year of playing baseball in college while battling an injury, I decided to alter my goals; ultimately choosing to leave baseball behind. Finishing out the school year and anticipating what I might expect in the future left me feeling lighter; I believed I made the right choice. While on summer break, reflecting on my decision and thinking about my next journey, I became uncomfortable: I was no longer athletically active; I was no longer dedicated to a team, and I did not anticipate the search to find myself would leave me feeling uneasy. My fresh start began by transferring
Sports play a very important role in my life ever since I could walk. My interests in playing sports began at the age of three as my parents signed me up for soccer, flag football, basketball, and lacrosse. First grade started my competitive edge as I began to play for travel teams in various sport tournaments. This competitive edge transferred from the sports field to the classroom having teachers and coaches helping me be the best I can be. Sports have continually well-shaped and defined my character by teaching me how to accept a win from working hard, also how a loss is an opportunity to learn and fix mistakes.
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.
As I layed in my bed on a cold and windy Friday night, i could hear the roar from Fenway park across the street. The Red Sox had a game tonight against their long time rival the New York Yankees. Their games would always be so thrilling and so exciting to be at, i was a young 15 year old boy who like everyone else wanted to be a MLB baseball player. I had always dreamed about playing on that beautiful and playing against those Yankees. Living in Boston mostly everyone here absolutely hates the yankees. I was having a hard time going to bed so i looked outside and was looking at all the people outside walking outside the Ballpark.
Growing up, I have always had a passion for baseball. To me, it is much more than just a sport. There have been times when it has acted as an escape from many problems in my life, as I feel that when I am on the diamond, nothing can hurt me. I am aware that many people feel this way about the sport they love, but sadly their careers often come to an abrupt end due to injury. I have a personal connection to this experience. The summer before my fourth grade year I was attending a basketball camp at Davidson College, when in the final seconds of a scrimmage game, my ankle was kicked out from under me. I immediately fell to the ground in pain as my ankle rolled over on itself. Coaches aided me in limping off of the court and to the training room
I have been playing high school basketball as a Lady Hornet since my freshman year, and I firmly believe that I have given tremendous effort into being the most valuable player that I can be. Ever since I was a child, I have had an immense passion for the game of basketball. My mother played collegiate basketball at William Carey University, so all throughout my childhood, she was my main inspiration to play. I will be forever indebted to her for pushing me to play the fantastic sport of basketball because I have no idea who I would be without it. While playing this sport for almost thirteen years, I have learned many valuable lessons along the way that have influenced the way I live out my life.
I encountered a “bump in the road” at a young age. I began playing softball at age six when Kylie, my elementary school friend, came to show and tell with her first place T-ball trophy. At the time, I had only played soccer, but the thought of swinging a bat as hard as I could and having people in the stands cheer for me, inspired me to ask my mother to register me for the local recreational league. Before I knew it, I was lacing up last year’s soccer cleats and stepping up to bat in my first coach-pitch softball game. My father, being the coach, stood on the mound and lobbed in the fattest meatball every hitter dreams of. With the ding of my second-hand garage sale bat, the ball sailed over the shortstop. Some may have called it beginner's luck, but I called it a sign.
Intense, never-wrecking, arousing and spine-tingling are the feelings of winning! Whether it’s a 3-legged-race with your best friend in sixth grade, or winning a state championship, everyone, including myself, gets caught up in that very part of it. Looking back now, I don’t think of the winning, you think of the memory and smiles shared with my friend; the same went with my teammates and me last year, in the region softball tournament.
What I did this summer was go to state for softball. How we get to state is my team and I played different All-Star teams from around us. We play wheatfield twice the first we bet them by a lot. The second game we played Wheatfield again and this told us who was going to state Wheatfield was beating us for awhile and then in the last inning we were tied nine to nine. We needed one more point to win. The game was tied our team was batting we had two outs and I was up to bat I hit the ball into the outfield and got someone home and we won the game ten to nine and that's how we got to state.
Helping others has always been a passion of mine. Specifically, I love to participate in the West University Challenger Baseball program – where athletes help mentally disabled students play baseball. After six years of participating in the organization, I was promoted to be a senior buddy. This new leadership role allowed me to be a part of many new experiences. One of the responsibilities that came with my new position was to teach the new buddies, the volunteers, how to properly keep the players safe. I made sure the buddies knew what to do when their challenger player went up to hit, and how to properly keep them safe while playing defense. After I instructed the buddies on the rules, I would help supervise the games. During the games I would watch and
It was a cold cloudy Friday morning. The day of the most nerve racking championship game had finally arrived for the two rivalry basketball teams, the Kress Lady Roos and the Hart Lady Horns. Weeks and weeks of hard, aggressive, closely won ball games one after another. Only a little bit of time after that to get ready for the most important game ever; this is the game everyone has been preparing for. A ton of exhausting conditioning and an enormous amount of shooting lead up to this moment. Every girl on the Lady Roos basketball team feels excited, pumped, and ready for the game later tonight. Constantly thinking and feeling overly enthusiastic of what the outcome of the game would be like. We all had predictions of what we wanted the game to be like but it was up to whichever team wanted it the most. With all the confidence and motivation that we had that morning we just wanted school to be over with already. It did not end quickly though. School was such a drag. We all could not wait for that three-thirty bell to ring so we could hop onto that big, yellow, warm bus. Finally, the loud, annoying bell goes off. It was now, “Game Time”! Only hours away until we would play the game of our lives. As we approached the humongous school our opponents were already there. We did not want to even look at them when we walked in. We did not want to be discouraged by what kind of players they were. As the minutes passed by it was time to get ready. We could already hear our loud and passionate fans approaching the gym. We love our dedicated and supportive Kress community. As the warm-up started we all became very anxious and jittery but knew we had to shake it off and stay focused. As we had our last talk with the coach and said our glorious ...
Finally Friday came. The tournament lasted for about three hours, peppered with constant complaints, arguments, and threatened fist fights. To my own disbelief, we lost -- by one point! For the rest of the night I rationalized our loss by creating stories of how they must have cheated, accented by remarks about the character blemishes of their mothers. I just kept saying that we were still the best and it didn't matter that we had lost. By the end of the night no one was speaking to me, not even my partner in the competition. I finally snuck off and went home. All the way, I could feel myself choking on ...