The Kickball War Fresno, California Easterby Elementary School , recess time, and the day of “The Kickball War”. The time was a quarter till noon, teacher still teaching, as every student begins to pace their feet up and down from sitting in their seats with such excitement. As I stared straight at the clock waiting too see the long hand line up within the short hand to strike 12:00pm, Tj tap my shoulder pointing out the window nodding his head while leaning toward the basket with all the sports and recess equipment. I knew for a fact what that meant, so I occasionally gave him a huge smile and nodded my head back at him, while slowly moving my lips to say the words “Kick ball”. Seeing how the time was near to head out, shortly, and without any hesitation Tj tied his shoes to prepare to dash right out the door! I felt my heart racing with such …show more content…
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
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.
After school was out Philip waited on the bleachers behind the school for Joe’s football practice to be over. The Darby Gulch High football team wasn’t much to be envious over. The plays were sloppy and predictable, at least according to most of the players parents. Of course, also according to them, this was solely the coach's fault. Although, cutting Mr.Galindo some slack, have a mascot like ‘The Darby Gulch Seagulls’ doesn’t really pull fear out of our enemies. Basketball, baseball, Soccer, Volleyball, basically any other sport than football in Darby Gulch had a good team. Philip was suppose to play basketball next season, then soccer the season after that. At this point in his life he wasn’t sure. He had planned on quitting baseball before
And on the first play we fumbled the ball and they recovered and they got a touchdown. We all moaned but then coach Zambardi yelled “ Let's go, pick your heads you still did a great job”, and it worked! It was the 4th quarter it was the last 12:00 minutes and the score was tied up and then the referee's ear piercing whistle blew and we were all startled! Then I heard my favorite sound, the crunching of peoples pads and helmets hitting each other. Plays and plays went by and we gained 7 yards, 9 yards, 5 yards and ect. The score was 12 to 6 and we were loosing . There was 6 seconds left in the fourth quarter and for us to win the trophy game we needed a touchdown desperately! Everyone including me thought we were going to lose the trophy game. We huddled and Zach blurted out some play like “37 crisscross”. We hustled up to the line and dug our hands in the turf. Down, ready, set, go Zach yelled. We all fired off the line like the racing dogs being released from their kennels! Zach ran back and threw an amazing pass to Donato, and amazingly he caught and sprinted to the goal line! The crowd gasped and then started cheering loudly. But before we jump to the main conclusions we still had to make the extra point. We kicked a 25 yard field goal and strikingly the ball flew through the air and went right throught the goal posts. We tore off our helmets and put them in the air. The coaches and parents were extremely happy
One day I was at a kids baseball game, and this kid didn't know how to swing, throw, or catch. It was 45 minutes before the game and i saw him warming up. And I thought in my head, this kid needs some help. So I walked over to him and I told him “hey man what's up”, he said “hey”. I told him “it looks like your struggling a little bit at a few things.” he said “what”, I told him “you look like you like baseball, I was just going to give you a few tips.”
I did not do much this weekend. I had two baseball practices that was it. One was on Thursday afternoon and the other was Friday morning. We worked on hitting an we also threw a little bit, which I don’t really like I just like to hit. We also played a weird game and it was really fun. It is hard to explain, but it involves a bouncy ball so that was fun.
I can do this, let's go. These thoughts in my head made me feel like a 007 agent on one of his intriguing missions. My seven friends and I were in a paintball field for the first time. Divided into two teams, everyone set into their places, waiting for that whistle to blow and the game to begin. My heart, racing, beating so hard and so loud I could feel it pouncing against my fingertips touching the paintball gun I held in my hands. This was my first time ever in a paintball field and I felt like a mouse lost in a maze, who was a bit scared but willing to explore. The whistle blew, the game had begun. In order to win, we had to run into the middle of the field, get a flag and come back without being shot, all that before the other team.
...ball Saved Us should be read to all American children. Its illumination of the hardships that Japanese Americans endured and its lessons of racial equality and courage in the face of adversity all send a positive ethical message. Showing children the persecution of Japanese Americans and helping them to empathize with people who are different teaches them that racial prejudice is wrong. In doing so, the book demonstrates that racial equality for all ethnicities is a goal worth striving for. Children learn to recognize the unfairness of the treatment of the “other” and that they should instead treat everyone with the respect that they deserve. The last page of the book is a picture of Shorty being embraced by his teammates. It is a celebration of the defeat of racism and a powerful symbol of the racial reconciliation that the book’s message so heavily promotes.
Riley, our starting quarterback, placed his hands on the helmet of the right tackle, as he did every play. He called the play looking straight into my eyes signaling the pass was coming to me. My entire body tingled with excitement as I ran to the left of the field. I could feel my cleats dig into the soft, freshly cut field as I took my stance. I looked up into the sky seeing only white lights which created the stage for the football field. As I brought my head down slowly to see the white eyes of the defender across from me, my heart beat slowed and I was still, in peace for the short moment. The quarterback hiked the ball and I began in pursuit; shifting, juking to get away from my defender. We were side-by-side running down the field as the ball was thrown into the air, coming strait to me. I jumped up and became airborne, snagging it from the lit up, night sky. Falling back with the ball secured into my arms, I felt my defenders full weight push into my left leg. A snap rang out as we hit the ground together and I looked down to see a large bump sticking straight left out of my
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.
Few people ever fall in love, and even fewer people remember when they did. I am not one of these people. The first time I fell in love was when I was 5 years old and my dad gave me my first ever baseball. I can still remember running my fingers against the seams and gripping the ball in a multitude of ways, imagining I was Nolan Ryan trying to select which pitch I would throw.
In the beginning, there was football. The official said, Let the stadium lights come on, and they came on. The football players came onto the field, and they saw the light was good. Other teams started to show up and practice on the battle ground, otherwise known as the "playing field." Fans shouted, and cheerleaders went on about their playful acts. Parents, brothers, sisters, and close friends all piled into the stands to see the game of the year. The official stepped out onto the moist grass at Williams Stadium in Plano, Texas. The time was seven o'clock p.m. on a Thursday night. He paused for a moment, looked at his stopwatch, and blew his whistle. Gigantic muscular men came from out of nowhere as the fans began to cheer, waving various flags, and clanging cow bells. The bells sounded like a wind chime in an April shower, all different sounds at different times.
After getting the chance to play soccer in different places around Los Angeles, I got the oppourtunity to meet people with different level of skills and dedication to the game. I used to play in a co-ed league at Santa Monica every Sundays but stopped due to time restraint. In this paper, I will be talking about three players that I interviewed and played with for a short period of time. In addition, I will be comparing and contrasting them to each other and have an assumption of who the best player can be.
The play was "Red 334"which is a run to our halfback, me, out of our dive series. I crouched over the ball as I jetted past the quarterback and ran the play so we could observe the changes we needed to make. I let out a sigh of relief because we were finished with the most dreaded part of practice; well, only until someone complained about not knowing their job on one of our pass plays. Coach Nelson undoubtedly decided we needed to run through the final pass play before we perfected our defense. The play was quietly called in the huddle with intentions of getting it right. I ran the play through my mind while I tried to remember what the snap count was and what I was supposed to do for that play. The ball was snapped and I jolted to the left of our team's quarterback to set up his backside protection. Out of my peripheral vision, I noticed the defensive end raging toward the quarterback. I intensely stepped into him while lowering my body and exploded through his shoulder pads sending him stumbling into the line's pass protection.
I am on deck. The time has ran out. Two outs. Lou, the girl in the batter's box, bunts and gets on. I am walking up to the plate. We are playing are rival, Victory, to get to the championship. The score is tied and bases are loaded. I watch the first pitch, like I always do. Ball. The next pitch was right down the middle. I step out of the box cursing at myself to swing the bat. The pitcher, Alana, was once a team mate of mine just last year. She threw me high knowing that was my weakness but I held back. I remember having difficulty deciding whether the ump was calling ball or strike because he wore a big mask in front of his mouth. The count is now 2-1. Before stepping into the box I took a deep breath with a quick prayer. There was a moment
The day’s events begin around 10 o’clock a.m. when most adolescents make their way from their beds to their bathrooms. After showering and dressing in the customary cut-off T-shirt and swim trunks (most often shorts adorned with flowered designs), teens start their cars and head off to the Laudermilk Park, about a thirty-minute drive. Around eleven o’clock, the parking lots become filled, and volleyballs begin flying through the air. Before long, teams of twos and fives take over the courts and begin to play. Onlookers get quite a show.