This is a story about my miss conduct. We all skated over to the long blue bench, after the jam was called off, and sat down winded and tired. Going to grab my water bottle to the side of me, just before I could take that big gulp of room temperature plastic tasting water, my coach says this: “can you go out again?” of course I say yes, and she throws the start panty at my chest, partially looking where she is throwing it. Me, I barely catch it, but I had to. There was no time to spare. Everyone was already skating out to the track, so I grab the panty and race out to the track, just before the official blew the whistle. Legs shaking, arms tapping, …show more content…
Both jammers were up at the jammer line, behind the big pack of 8 other men and women. 4 blockers from each team. Then the two jammers behind. One from each team. Me being one of the jammers, along with the girl from the other team on the right of me, stood anxiously waiting for the whistle, setting us off into the pack. It felt like 800 years of standing there, but too soon when it actually happened. Looking at the other jammer, waiting for the jam to start is pretty much you faking a smile to them even though you really hate them and want to beat them in every way. And that’s exactly what we did. Skating out, nervously, but seemingly confident, we both exchanged a fake intimidating smile, as we were figuring out where to stand to get throuh the pack in the best way, and before they do, or whether or not we’re gonna block them out to slow them down, or try to stand in front of them, or move back and forth so they can’t make out your next move, or even try to find a hole in the pack to get through faster that maybe they don’t see. So eventually, we see the official, move the whistle into her mouth. “5 seconds!”....“Tweeeet!!” The
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
For every Olympic games, there always seems to be some type of scandal or drama. The 2002 Winter Olympic games in Salt Lake City proved itself to be full of this excitement and controversy. That year the scandal appeared in one of the most popular events, figure skating. The competition was between the Russian and Canadian figure skating pairs. The Russians showed a performance full of technical difficulty without pulling it off completely. Their performance was marred by simple mistakes. On the other hand, the Canadian pair performed a piece full of emotion, and while not as technically difficult as the Russians, more thorough and precise in their landings and jumps. After their performance the audience and the television commentators all believed they were the gold medallists. However after their score went up, they were sorely put in second place. As it turns out a French judge exchanged votes with a Russian judge so that the Russians would win the event. Since this happened, it has opened up the doors to the world of figure skating and informed the public of its corruptness. What people need to notice is that judges exchanging votes is only one part of the problem and how well a person actually performs the techniques on the ice is only one part of the judging. In an article published in Newsweek right after the scandal was exposed the author states, "For ages figure skating has attracted ridicule for letting a competitor's nationality, make-up, costume, and choice of music seem to count as much as the athleticism and grace." (Begley 40) As it stands now in 2010, it looks as though no one has learned a lesson from this event or article. Judges who make deals before competitions and get caught do not suffer any harsh consequences. They continue to practice unsportsmanlike conduct while judging. In my movie (as yet to be titled) I hope to address not only the fact that judges make deals ahead of time, but that certain skaters are discriminated by their race and sexuality as well as for arbitrary reasons.
One of the most destructive forces that is destroying young black people in America today is the common cultures wicked image of what an realistic black person is supposed to look like and how that person is supposed to act. African Americans have been struggling for equality since the birth of this land, and the war is very strong. Have you ever been in a situation where you were stereotyped against?
Again I was here to work and be my best. Half way into practice coach asked “who (faces off)”? I raised my hand because why not? We went to the other side of the felid and I watched before I volunteered to (face off). Seemed easy enough for me so I gave it my all.
Queens is one of the most diverse boroughs in New York. There is just about every ethnicity living in it. Growing up in Queens I adapted to the diverse environment at a very young age. Living in a diverse environment impacted my way of thinking and the way I act towards others.
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.
I am not completely aware of race, however, I do see the world as we are there is very probable that I hold bias’s both within the Caucasian racial identity and outside of it as well. On the other hand, gender has been a predominate factor in my life, I have resisted the stereotypes of most female oriented jobs. I worked in factories as soon as my eighteenth birthday, I worked two jobs most of the time and never relied on a male for any support, I joined the Army, as the first female in my family to join the military. Also, choosing physically demanding employment opportunities. However, in the realm of income, I was always behind male counterparts, passed up for promotions, or laid-off first. Although, my paperwork always bragged about being
My perception of our world is that racism exists everywhere, even in the land of liberty, America. I am aware of the fact that there is racism against not only blacks, but also whites, Asians, along with people from all other ethnicities. I believe racism is deplorable in any form. Therefore I do my best not to be racist in any way.
It would have been easy to resolve had either one of us wanted to end the squabble. Looking back, it is unbelievable to me that I acted the way I did. Again and again the situation runs through my mind, unveiling new ends to the argument. It was a perfect example of similar scenes playing themselves out all over the world - the most basic level of social conflict we have, the easiest to resolve.
What’s the most common word that comes to mind in a week? Mine is sorry. Most common phrase? Always beginning in under, less than or lacking. You are underrepresented in society. You are lacking in the opportunities many other people have had. You’re less than prepared. Sorry for letting you down. But those are just words. Seeing is believing.
“Don’t let the get pass half court,” I tell my teammate on the court. When the ref blows everyone starts running and this kid and I trip and fall.
Wait. Be still. Don't go over the line. Don't let go. Wait for it. "BANG!" My reactions were precise as I sprung out of the blocks. The sun was beating down on my back as my feet clawed at the blistering, red turf. With every step I took, my toes sunk into the squishy, foul smelling surface, as my lungs grasped for air. Everything felt the way it should as I plunged toward my destination. I clutched the baton in my sweaty palms, promising myself not to let go. My long legs moved me as fast as I could go as I hugged the corner of the line like a little girl hugging her favorite teddy bear. The steps were just like I had practiced. As I came closer to my final steps, my stomach started twisting and my heart beat began to rise. The different colors of arrows started to pass under my feet, and I knew it was time.
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 ...
My name is Victoria and I am 33 years old and live in the city of Chicago. I have long brown hair, a thin physique. I have always been an extrovert, as opposed to my younger sister, Gloria, who keeps everything to herself.
The ball comes speeding over the net and slams down onto the face of the court landing just beyond the base line, the line running along the back of the court. I had called her winning point... "out." As I turned towards her, I could see the anger building in her eyes. We walked towards each other, and with only the net separating us, she began to confront me. She argued that, as she saw it, the ball was obviously in and that we should replay the point. I wanted this game as much as she did and we were both standing strong. I finally decided that there was no use in fighting. We had to resolve this argument between ourselves because there were no line judges to decide for us. We decided to replay the point and she won. I tried to convince myself that there would be times when a call would be questionable and that I should try not to point fingers. I still went home discouraged that night because I knew that the call I had made was fair.