It was December 17, 2015, when I woke up to milk and some scrambled eggs to eat before my game at Redwood Middle School that had a basketball court to play in. I was excited about the game so I called my friend, Fred, who played on the same basketball team as me. “Will you be at the game today?” I said. Fred replied, “I will be at the game as fast as a flash.” I was still waking up from playing basketball late at night when I should have been sleeping quietly in my bed. I am depending on Fred to be at the game because my knee was hurt from practicing last night so I could basically not score because you have to bend your knee to score and I could barely. My basketball team was versing the number one team in the league, but we still had hope …show more content…
I was prepared with everything needed for the game like a towel, a basketball, a jug of water, my jersey, and a small Gatorade for practice. When I reached the school I dribbled the ball to the indoor basketball court that we were going to play on. “Did you get a good night's sleep?” my coach said with surprise. “I slept well,” I said. “Is there only five people coming to the game?” I questioned my coach. He said there were only five people with grief and went inside to talk to the referees. Fred came with four of our teammates and said hi. We then began our practice what were lay-ups (dribbling the ball to the hoop and shooting) and jump shots (shooting the ball from a distance while …show more content…
That was hard to hear and I could only see fuzzy things. It took a couple minutes to get my senses back to me. We were still winning barely at a score of thirty-two to twenty-four in the third quarter. That made me happy but I lost that happiness when I saw who just Joe enter the court. That wasn’t the only thing that made me sad, it was also the pour calls of the referees because they were falling and making noises when they shot pretending that someone hit them when no one even touched them. I took one sip of my red, cold, quenching taste of my Gatorade and was ready. “Coach, I am ready, can I go?” I said. My coach replied with a yes and I checked in for my other teammate. I started to run and the unstoppable pain hit me but I tried to endure on by looking at my coach and the time. “Are you ok?” Joe said but I knew he didn’t mean it and ignored him. He scored eight point as fast as Michael Jordan while I was still recovering from my trip. The worst part is that the person who fouled me didn’t get a technical foul according to Fred. The score was also all tied up now and I was too hurt to do anything but managed to get a rebound and give my team the ball. I managed to score the ball by giving my teammate an assist by faking joe and passing the ball to me. The game went on with an even more enthusiastic crowd than before. The ball got passed so much because our hands made the ball to sweaty
The gym is full of people; the stands are so full that they overflow onto the edge of the court and out the doorway. The shrieks and screeches cry out from the crowd’s cheers. The ball crashes through the net, as they jump popcorn flies. The home team hit a three-point shot; they are winning with only a few seconds left. In these few seconds, the coach looks around. He realizes why he does what he does. At this point, none of the labor, time, and effort matters. The only thing that matters is the win, seeing his team succeed; watching a team grow is unlike any other feeling. In order to understand that feeling, one first has to appreciate the game: the rules and regulations, the legends that have played and coached, the development of the game,
I won the tip. The game is now under way. I remember getting the ball in the post and backing my defender down, I faked to the right and went up with my left hand! Bam and one the basket counts. The ref blows his whistle because of the foul. Now i 'm at the freethrow line and I sink it. Nice way to start the game right off the bat. As the game went on I was finding out none of my teammates showed up prepared… Basketball is a game of runs. Saint Francis was on a run the whole game, they are known for their three point shooting and they were shooting the lights out. It was a very chippy game I seem to be making most my shots. I look up and the scoreboard says i 'm the leading scorer with seventeen points. Were starting to get on a run. My teammate passes to me, i 'm in the corner for a three and I make it. Then we get a quick steal and we make another
I ran back into my house and took my basketball from its case on my chest. I ran back down the stairs and stormed out of my house, trying to get my breath back while sweating profusely, and got back on the bus. The bus was filled with excited young peers’ ready to attend the first day of classes at a familiar school with friends; however, I had no reason to be happy. I was without my long time friends who I spent ten wonderful years with at Yeshiva Ohr Chaim. Nevertheless, I used my basketball as a means to get me through my first day of school because it was and will always be my “insurance policy.”
It was the middle of November, 7 p.m. and very chilly outside. The team was walking into the court. “The basketball court looked and felt brand new. It smelled like it was just built and ready to be played on,” Rashim excitedly explained. It was Rashim’s first game of the regular season against Wissahickon High School. Usually Rashim doesn't care about the regular season, but he found out that this could be the most important game of his life. 76ers recruiter, Matthew McLane, came to watch the game to find an incoming star to bring to the NBA. Rashim knew it was his chance to show how he is good enough for the NBA, but he was very nervous. The game
15 minutes into the game everything change. I was running down the field next to my teammate waiting for the ball to be passed like two little kids running down the street. I called out for the pass and the ball came to my feet. I started to dribble as the opposing players came after me. Pressure was on. I made my way closer to the goal and took the shot. SNAP. I fell to the ground as my leg swung around me. I heard a snap in my knee like someone breaking a candy cane at christmas and a pop like someone had just popped a balloon. Everyone was yelling at me to get up and asking if I was okay,but I could not
Ever since I was a little boy, about eight years old or so, I had an extreme passion for the sport of basketball. On weekends, I would wake up in the morning, eat a bowl of frosted flakes or cheerios, put on basketball shorts and then go in my driveway to shoot around. I would be out there for hours just shooting around or playing with some random kids that I would occasionally see walking around my neighborhood. This was satisfaction to me, but even better was playing on multiple public teams and not just playing in my driveway every day. In elementary school, I played in a recreational league, just like almost every other kid who tries out basketball when they were younger. This was fun and all but it was nothing too serious. There were never any practices, it was just one or two unorganized games per week. I never took
There was a terrible feeling in my stomach that I have never experienced before. As person I felt invincible that day, and on top of the world because I was giving my all to my team. Later on that night before the end of the Third quarter Coach subbed me back into the game, and I was ready to get back on the court and demolish the other team. Our team set up in a 1-3-1 defense which is a zone defence, and as the point guard threw the ball across the court I went for the basketball.
Until it happened, it was the first day of basketball tryouts. I remember going to the locker room to change and my heart was pounding a thousand beats per second, I was the most nervous that I had been in my whole life. The first day was ball handling, thank god I was practicing my ball handling because I looked to the left and right, and I saw kids looking and staring at the ball wobbling up and down the court, but I was fine dribbling perfectly up and down the court. There were no cuts on the first day. When I got home, I went to bed early because I was super sore. The next day was harder, we did lay-up drills, shooting drills and defensive drills. I could see the coach calling people in his room and telling them they didn't make the team. I was nervous, but I never got called up. The third day came and the whole time all we did was scrimmaging. I did pretty well. Every game we played I scored 10 points sometimes 12. At the end of the tryouts, he was doing his last cuts and I was nervous. I hear his footsteps walking towards the gym. He came back to the gym and said,
“If you can’t beat em them, Join em” I gazed outside my window,looking up to the sky that was so crystal clear that it appeared to mirror my own image if I looked close enough. The sun was out, shining bright per usual but with a hint of sparkliness. It was a perfect way to start my day, but per usual my brother and his friends were outside playing an intimate game of basketball. The ball would dribble up and down, “whump whump” until one of them would shoot, “swish” it goes in the net, this causes them to burst into a celebration. Nine years old me always found this routine my brother and his peers followed annoying, the sound of a basketball dribbling was enough to put me in a foul mood for the peaceful day was distributed with shouting
Vignette #6: My Basketball Life ( on paper) I want to be a professional basketball player. I want to step on the waxy court and feel fresh like honeycrisp apples. I want to be that one player that everyone looks at during the game. I want to be like the new Elena Delle Donne.
This team was undefeated in our league, with very coordinated movement and excellent fitness beyond ours. However, what my team and I lacked in skill was made up for in faith. We trusted in each other’s ability, and no matter the result, we knew that we’d give it our all. The teams assembled on the field, and the game began. The entire game felt like a stalemate. The ball went back and forth, with no goals scored. That is, until one of my teammates slipped on the ball. The ball flew so high, it soared over the goalie and scored us a point. The rest of the game was the longest seven minutes of my life, but we defeated the undefeated and progressed to the
Down two with six seconds to go fatigue had taken it tolls on the players. With little energy left; over time was not an option. I knew I had to go for the win. I walk on the floor confident of my ability that was until the whistle blew quickly turning my confident to butterflies. As I fought to get open I quickly saw the ball coming my way. As I rose for a jump shot time itself began to stay still. An in flesh everything became silent. As I watch the ball leave my hand I envisioned greatness; sure the ball was on its way in I started to celebrate that was until I hear the announcer say my teammate tip in miss shot to win us the game. Mix with emotion I celebrate with my teammate. “Ok guys, we have 24 hours until tip off. Get some rest because this is going to be the biggest game of your life. Let’s bring this championship back to Barton College. Go Bulldogs and Goodnight!” Why few players stay in the lobby to hang out I took it talk upon to work on my game and reflect on the semifinal game that just took place. At basketball games you will notice how there are all sorts of fans attending the game.
Sports mean many different things to many different people. Sports can be seen as a way to lose weight and to stay fit. However, to some it is a way to compete and to have an opportunity to win. Our whole society is shaped around sports and they affect our everyday lives. Tons of money are poured into sports in order to watch incredible athletes perform.
It was the start of summer 2002, and the Mid America Youth Basketball (MAYB) national tournament was taking place in Andover, Kansas. Along with the rest of the team, I was excited to play some basketball for the first time since the middle school basketball season was over. Our team, Carlon Oil, had been together and played every summer for the last four years. We were a really good team, with an overall record of 65-4 over those four years and were hoping to continue our legacy. Lonnie Lollar, our coach for the summer, was also the coach of our high school basketball team. I had a history of groin injuries, and every summer it seemed that I would have to sit out at least a game on the bench icing my groin. But this summer was different, and I along with everyone in the gym wouldn't have expected my summer to end with a injury such as a broken leg.
In my free time, I would love to go out and play basketball with my friends. I started playing basketball when I was around 11-12 years old during my time in my primary school. It was that I was considered as a tall student back at that time, so the coaches there encouraged me to play this team sport. Since that time, my life’s always been involved with basketball. I believe that I’ve already watched the NBA, national basketball association, for more than 6 years now and nothing will stop me to do so at anytime soon.