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An Essay on Overcoming Adversity
An Essay on Overcoming Adversity
Essays on overcoming adversity
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Select a person you admire or a significant life experience. In what way has this person or experience affected you?
Running in a line, clumped unevenly together, my team ran out of the locker room with a burst of energy as the crowd slowly acknowledged our arrival on to the court. I glanced around to see who might be watching this anticipated win, and to look for my mom’s face up in the stands. I nervously waited for the ball to complete my first lay-up of the night, to ease my way into the game atmosphere. My fear of getting hurt again haunted my mind, and the fear was affecting my athletic performance. The thought of spraining my ankle again chilled my body with apprehension. It really hurt me as a player not being able to play the sport I loved. I knew that the only thing to do was to stay strong and cheer for my teammates.
The game had begun and my team had the ball. I watched my teammates hustle around the court and look for an open shot. Scrambling for time and an open player, the girls tried to keep the ball under control. Eventually, a point was scored and the other team brought the ball out. I can still remember cheering for my friend, after her fifteen-foot jump shot. I yelled more encouraging words to my teammates hoping that my coach would somehow notice my efforts. I sprang up out of my seat to acknowledge a great steal by another team player, and I gazed with excitement in suspense for her to score.
I watched and cheered throughout the whole game. I finally heard my name called, "Trace!" said Coach Hanover; and she gave me my directions. I patiently waited for an out of bounds ball to come so that I could get on the court. The buzzer rang, and the referee signaled for me to come in to replace one of my teammates. My mom cheered frantically because she knew my playing time was at a minimum, and she knew how important getting a few minutes of playing time was to me. I remember distinctly that I ran to the left side of the court and set in position for a corner shot. I seemed to have perfected this shot while being out because of my beat up, bruised ankle. I made eye contacted with my teammate, and the ball was passed to me.
As Paige and I walked across the field towards our team I felt euphoric. Four long years of work, sweat, and dedication had led up to this night. It was the perfect end to my senior year of softball. The scoreboard just beyond the mass of sweaty, screaming softball players read 15-0. This was the final score of the district championship game, a game my team had never won before. The applause and cheers of the fans echoed in my ears for hours afterward
Basketball is a big part of my life, one year ago in tournament final game two of our best players were hurt and the team was relying on me. With the time winding down on the clock we were down 8 points. Somehow I got our deficit down to two points with 30 seconds left, after an intense defensive stop 10 seconds remained on the clock; our coach called a timeout. A play was drawn up for me to take the shot. Mitchell inbounded the ball to me as I came off of a screen, I had an some-what wide open shot, I took the shot, you could hear the crowd go silent as the ball left my hand and headed towards the basketball. It felt like everything was going slow motion, the ball was getting closer and closer to the hoop and I…….missed it. The buzzer sounded
Beginning as a freshman I started every game never, but to sit on the bench unless there was a major problem. This repetitious cycle mirrored itself over and over again until there was a problem, physically, with my body. I had felt a pain in my back that ran down my leg for some time, but no one other than me knew of this pain. I am a very strong willed and determined person, not letting pain stand in my way. The pain started to vaguely effect my everyday activities, such as walking across Wal-mart which put me in agonizing pain. The only way I played basketball with this pain was by focusing on the goal I was out to achieve.
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.”
Injuries are part of an athlete’s life from the time they decide to train. An athlete is aware of the risks in order to be perform and be the best at what they; however, they cannot afford to think they will be injured. They must adopt a mindset that they are untouchable and the best in order to perform and train and peak efficiency. When an injury is sustained however, the effects are disastrous to an athlete not only physically but mentally. An athlete’s mind is the most important thing to them arguably, because without the will power and determination channeled from their mind they would be unable to perform. Injuries in athletes can change their mentality, increase depression, and shake confidence (Clemtent, 2015). Injuries may affect the physical body but many researchers and doctors tend to think the mind is even more affected then the body. Injuries are only physical but mental and affect the psyche of athletes in every sport. This paper will discuss the psychological effects and impact of injuries that can lead to depression, lack of confidence, and change in realistic expectations and the limited
Playing a sport whether its basketball, soccer, football or any other of your interest can be thrilling, and exciting. Not only can it be fun, yet physical exercise is good for the mind, body, and spirit. Therefore, as an athlete, one must keep in mind that playing any sport, injury is part of life and inevitable. Research has proven from time to time that severe injuries in sports can trigger psychological mental health issues, affecting their athletic performance. Recovering from an injury can indeed be a difficult process and athletes must wait for however long before being able to play the sport again.
There’s no denying getting injured is an athletes worst nightmare. Injuries are a part of life, but they tend to happen more to athletes. Not fair right? Well unfortunately this is very true. The summer going into my junior year I received the worst injury I have ever had, I had torn my mcl in my right knee. The tear felt as if two hundred untrained nurses each stabbed me in my knee with a rusty syringe. This sounds horrific, well, because it was. I was selected to play for an elite ice hockey team in a tournament called “Beantown”. These games were put together to showcase high school players to college scouts. The first game I had the pre-game jitters as glided onto the ice. Call me crazy, but something about one hundred pairs of scouts’
Mark Parker a young 13 year old boy living in Beaverton, Oregon, was out at his community court practicing some basketball for the upcoming season. He was a smart kid working very hard in school and doing his best to impress his parents. He loved the game of basketball, but he didn’t know it. He just wanted to be like all the other kids in his class that were good at it. He was in some way friends with everyone but not really close with the other kids.
Throughout my life there has not been a single week that I have not had a sports practice, whether it was when I was younger playing soccer, basketball, or baseball, or when I reached middle school when I began my lacrosse career. This fact was due to the culture my family presented, which was athleticism. Both parents were full time athletes, and so were all three of my sisters who all were offered scholarships to play in college for track, soccer, and basketball. Though it was my family’s culture and I was raised into it, somewhere along the road I walked off the metaphorical playing field, and changed my game.
Back home, I felt I had to share my experience with other girls that share my passion. I remember during summer, I went to a public court near my house to play basketball; while I was there, a group of girls was watching and I invited them to play. Before I left I noticed they only had an old ball and they could barely play with it. As I was leaving, one girl asked me: “when can we play again?” And it was in that moment when I realized that they would have love to play more basketball, but they did not have the support that I had.
I can remember my first game like it was yesterday. My little sister and I played for the “Shock” recreation team. Our colors were burgundy and gold. I was so nervous to get out on the court and play in front of all those people, but I know I couldn’t show my fear in front of my little sister then she would be even more scared. My heart felt like it would beat out of my chest and I could feel the sweat forming on my nose 30 minutes before the game.
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 ...
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.
“Life is like a basketball, it bounces up and down.” I love basketball. I feel affection for the taste of victory, when you win a game. However, I also find losing a worthwhile experience. I worship the feeling where you score a point. It’s slow motion at first, as you gaze at the shot you’ve made, wondering if it is going to manage. Then the taste of your salty sweat and the sound of your pounding heart are back in action. *Swoosh* the ball rapidly swirls into the hoop and falls through the net. It is so stunning, and so breath-taking. “Beautiful shot! BEAUTIFUL!” the coach would yell. Everyone would give a little cheer, and I would smile and look down. I am proud to make the shot, but not cocky about it. It’s for the team, teamwork… I would think in my head. Afterwards, I would be focusing on how to get my head completely into the game, that’s how addicting it is.
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.