I am standing on the hardwood court in the Peters Township high school gymnasium, sweat beading down my forehead. My hands resting on my knees, awaiting the serve from the Peters Township player. The feeling of excitement and anticipation make my legs tremble in preparation for the next serve. I can hear the resenting jeers resounding from the crowd sitting in the plastic bleachers. It had caught the eye of most people in the gym, but I just noticed that their old dilapidated scoreboard flickering on and off since it was missing a lightbulb. The ramshackle scoreboard hung on the wall, looking as if it could fall of at any minute. It read 14 to 13 in our favor. I stare through the nylon net, looking at the kid standing there spinning the ball in his hands. Then, he tosses the rubber smothered carcass high in the air…and the play has begun. I watch my teammate as he extends his long, thin arms to pass the ball just as he has many times before. The silence of the gym is deafening, but everyone could hear the sound of the rubber ricocheting off his magnificent forearms. We had practiced the exact serve many times in …show more content…
Now, the ball that I had called for is coming my way. The approach I took was very wide, allowing me to set up in the perfect position to kill the ball. Two opposing players go up to block, but set up about two feet apart from each other. I watch as the rubber sphere travels across the net. I feel the muscles in my legs reverberate like rubber bands as I jump as high I possibly could. Then, finally the ball is there. It was within reach, and I made contact. I smacked the ball harder than I ever had before, placing it between the opposing players. The ball seemed to go in fast motion, moving quickly to the shiny hardwood floor. It caromed off into the distance, never to be seen again. If you never try, you will never be able to achieve your greatest
Joes High School’s total enrollment consisted of sixteen girls, and twenty boys. Ten of the boys that had enrolled there played basketball. All of the boys were over six feet tall. Lane Sullivan, the new coach of the basketball team, had never even touched a basketball before he started coaching. Sullivan had never coached anything at all before he started coaching the Joes basketball team. In order to gain knowledge about the sport, he got a book about it. He started coaching in 1927, but before the 1928 basketball season, Joes High School didn’t even have a gym. Instead, they’d practice outside on a dirt court, and two times a week they’d take a bus to the nearest gym, which was ten miles away. In order to play home games, the boys had to play in the local dance hall. The “court” was nowhere near regulation size, and the ceiling was so short that the boys couldn’t shoot an arched shot. The people who attended these basketball games had no place to sit and watch the game, the all stood around the edges of the court and on the small stage. Joes High School finally got their own gym around Christmas time because the people of Joes donated their time and material in order to make it happen.
Years of playing the game and not improving, Gawande incidentally finds himself play tennis with a young man who is a tennis couch. The young man gives Gawande a tip about keeping his feet under his body when hitting the ball. At first he is uncertain, stating, “My serve had always been the best part of my game….. With a few minutes of tinkering, he’d added at least ten miles an hour to my serve. I was serving harder than I ever had in my life” (Gawande, 2011, p.3).
The following is an observational essay written while observing the summer’s annual Dyckman Basketball Tournament.
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
You are in the First Union Stadium playing in the championship basketball game in front of a sold out, wildly cheering crowd, with hints of soft pretzels, buttered popcorn, and sweat in the air. Theres one minute left to play and you are agitated, exhausted, and have cottonmouth from the stimulation of this once in a life time opportunity to own and flaunt a championship ring. The scoreboard announces that the numbers are tied at 101 and its your ball. Theres enough time to set up the much rehearsed play, with yourself as the go to player to sink the winning three. After taunting the defense by passing on the perimeter, its time to make a deep v-cut, run off the double screen, and set up on the three point line by the baseline for the winning shot. The crisp pass is headed directly for your open hands, such that the rough, rubber grips on the basketball depicts a perfect rotation and arc as it spins through the air just as the buzzer bleats and an awestricken hush resounds in the stadium. Come game day, you will be relaxed and confident so that this scenario will happen.
I walk into the gym rows and rows of people there waiting to watch our game. Kennedy who is 6’0 is walking torque the middle of the court for a jump ball. The opposite who is competing with her for the jump ball is a 6’1-6’2 big girl. The whistle blows and Kennedy tips it back, chloe grabbed it and started to push down the court, pounding on the ball. Chloe pasees it to Elle who gives it to Addy who is 5’5 pushing the big girl back. Addy swings her left leg across her body. Puts up the shot and the big girl blocks it. One of the Lady Mombas (24) shoots the ball down the court having one of her teammates catch it. Everyone is sprinting down the floor. Number 33 gets the pass and shoots the ball. It hits on the corner of the bright
As we all know, America is a nation of sports enthusiasts. Most Americans participate is some kind of sporting event, either as a spectator or as a competitor. In the pantheon of great American sports, there is one that stands out. It has been called the great American pastime. Yes, that great sport known as tennis. Tennis requires a mastery of many skills to be able to play competitively, but the primary skill needed to win in tennis is the serve. The serve is the primary offensive weapon used I tennis, because it is the only time when a player gets to put a ball into play. The player controls the speed, the placement, and the spin of the ball. With proper procedure, the serve can win many points and games for the server. The technique I will demonstrate is used by most professional ten...
Tweet! The sound of the whistle rang through all of the ears in the gym. Sweat was dripping down my back my headband was soaked and my knees felt like toothpicks about to snap. I ran over to net, head pounding. High fiving hand after hand. We had just one our Championship Qualifier. I dried of with a old rag on the sidelines. I was parched had a pounding headache my stomach was still nervous but I managed to start warming up. I caught a glance of our competition “Kokoro”. Every single one of them towered us. One of them reminding me of a praying mantis about to bite the head off of their prey. Bang. Bang. Shots were fired. (not literally) The ball kept smacking the floor as the hit the ball. We started our warm up. Our minds were ready
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 was about 130 yards from the green on one of the hardest holes on the golf course. I took out my 7 iron and took a practice swing. I start to think about all of the tips my coaches had given me. I step up to my ball and aim straight towards the flag. Every stroke counts in the game of golf, so each swing needs to be done with care. I swing my club and feel good contact on the ball. I know that the ball will fly well, but I didn’t know just how favorable the result would be. The ball flew as straight as an arrow to the green, bounced a few times, and I heard it drop right in the hole from 130 yards
As I watched my first 3 go in, it felt good. It was perfectly on target with the perfect pass from Emma. One after another went in and I could not have felt better about how this game against Clarksville was going. As the first half ended, I could not keep the smile off of my face as I ran into the locker room. Even though I was excited, my team was more excited for me than I would have imagined. Even though I had shot many three’s, I had no idea how many I had made of the record of the most three’s in a game. With seconds left remaining in the fourth quarter, I wanted one more three to go in but I just could not get the ball. After Clarksville scored, I then became the point guard and I had to try to get myself open. I ended up in the corner with seconds remaining so I just threw the ball to the rim. As I shot the ball behind the 3, I got fouled but made the basket.The crowd went crazy! I finally had the chance for a four point play.
Yet, the experience was inspirational for me. Initially, I found myself having many difficulties in communicating with these young athletes, especially with an athlete who I came to be very fond of. As I am lacking in American Sign Language, she and I communicated through basic hand gestures, and when we worked together, I tried my best to show her the form of hitting and holding the tennis racket. It took some times for her to fully grasp the skills, but the joy on her face when knowing she had succeeded gave me the motivation to continue working towards my own
I admired the gym’s organization because the workers made sure that all the gym’s equipment was not lost or stolen by students telling them his or her student I.D. number and what he or she was borrowing. Subsequently, the four of us passed “The Rock” and the weight room to a hall. As we were going, we examined another clear, glass room where students were playing basketball on the basketball court. The outside was wired with fences and there were multiple tennis courts. We ambled to the first empty court we saw and played a short game until we were all worn
As the sun unforgivingly beats down on the lonely desert of Albuquerque, New Mexico, my opponent and I slowly drag our feet back into position. As sweat drips down our necks, we pierce each other’s soul with our eyes like gladiators in an arena, desperately searching for an opening to strike. It’s all come down to this point; it’s do or die. He bounces the ball against the ground, quietly analyzing his options with hawk-like eyes, and, in turn, I strengthen my grip on my tennis racket and brace myself for impact. Though the four-year gap between us gives my opponent a significant advantage, making his physical ability akin to Goliath’s in relation to my own pitiful “David-like” strength, I have erased all thoughts of defeat after trading points
“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.