Trooper Two memories stand out from when I was a kid. One was the day the Nintendo Entertainment System hit the shelves. The other was the day “a boy’s best friend” came into my world. Who would have thought that this day would become one of the happiest days of my life? It was in the middle of spring on a nice sunny day. I had just finished my last game from my recreational basketball league. Our team lost, but I put in my two points, along with two solid quarters of bench warming. I was never much of an athlete, but rather a “mathlete”. Regardless, I still had a lot of fun playing sports. On our way home from the game, my dad and I stopped at several pet stores. I was very confused. He neglected to tell me what we were doing, but I gladly played along. All together we must have stopped at four or five different pet stores. We bought a pack of dog bones, a dog collar and leash, dog shampoo, dog food, and a dog cage. Now I am not the kind of person to jump to conclusions, but I think I was catching on to something. We proceeded home after spending a near 200 dollars on dog supplies. Once we got home, my dad asked, "Joe, What do you want to do today?" I could tell by the sound of his voice that he had asked a rhetorical question. Although at the age of eight I had no idea what a rhetorical question was, I knew he was telling me that we were on our way to the animal shelter. My parents and I jumped into our 1989 blue Aerostar van. My brother was away on a camping trip, so it was just the three of us. The 20-minute drive felt like two hours, and I can remember every second of it. We drove up to the shelter on a smooth paved road that went up to a hill. An empty pasture was on our left side and an old cemetery was on our right. The shelter looked like a small prison. It stood alone in the middle of an open field, surrounded by fence. We jumped out of our van and headed up the walkway. As we walked through the front door, we were forced to look at the cats. Walking through the cat section was the only way to get to the dog kennel part.
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
When the season started, I dedicated myself to my conditioning and practices. I became a profound basketball player, my life revolved around this sport. Literally, my mindset was “Basketball Is Life”. I remember rushing from my last class, struggling to get through the wave of students that roamed the halls just to go to the gym to get a few shots
After middle school, my next goal was to become the star at my high schools basketball team. Unfortunately when I arrived the talent was much greater than it was in high school. There were kids in my grade who were dunking and at the time, and I could barely touch the net. Undaunted by the task I participated in a scrimmage with the Varsity team. The first time I got the ball I was open, so I shot the ball and missed the shot. I still kept my head up and after missing my first three shot attempts I decided that it was not my night so I tried to have a positive impact on
"Honey," my mom yelled to me one sunny afternoon, "Go out and feed Sugar." Sugar was our dog, a big, husky lap dog. I went to our kitchen, and got some food. Then I stepped outside, into the warm, fresh August air, looking for Sugar. I glanced to where I kept Sugar, and couldn't believe my eyes. Sugar was not there. I ran to the place where Sugar slept, I saw that the leash was elegantly coiled up. I knew that Sugar could not have run away. I thought that she must have chased a deer or another animal. Then a disturbing thought hit me, Sugar might have been abducted. As I tried to push that thought out of my mind, I thought that my mom could have put Sugar out in the garage. I went to the garage to check, but unfortunately Sugar wasn?t there. ?Mom,? I cried after a couple of seconds, ?Do you know where Sugar is??
It was 5 years ago, my eighth-grade year, I was scared and nervous about being the youngest girl on the high school basketball team. I had played basketball since I was in first grade and played on competitive teams with older girls but nothing had prepared me for what I was walking into. We started our first day of practice at 6:30 a.m. on a chilly October morning. Coach Gray sat us down before practice and went over all the many rules he had set for our team. After hearing all these rules and consequences I did not even want to breathe wrong around him. I was so scared, but little did I know that this was the start of something that would change my life for forever.
One day, a quite normal day in fourth grade, my little brother, Maximus and I were rushed to our grandparents house as soon as school got out. We got picked up by our grandparents and got into their black jeep. The ride to my grandparents house was miserable. They told us what had happened to my dad and that my mom was up at the hospital with him. The kind of accident my dad got into was, he was riding his motorcycle, a car backed up into him and crashed into him. The doctors said he could of died but he was lucky. I couldn't believe what I heard. We had nothing to say the whole ride to there house. We were forced to spend the night at there house. I tossed and turned all night long not able to think strate.
Once the car filled with our bags and some snacks, we took off. The car is packed with no were to move. About one hour later we arrived at the train that would take us to Chicago. It took a lot of waiting but the train finally stopped at our station. Most of the seats were already taken by people who got on before we did. I sat with my dad and my little brother sat with my mom. The sad thing was we didn’t get a window seat I really wanted to see the scenery. We got closer and closer until I could see huge buildings. Then errrrr! The brakes went. We made it to the Chicago train station.
It started on cloudy Sunday morning 3 days after my new cousins were born. There I was in the car sleeping, in the Tilted seat. My dad woke me up he said were going somewhere. “Where are we going are we going to Taco Bell?” I said. My dad was like no because my sister hates it. I listened to music while we were driving until I saw Heaven. It was a Go Kart Race Track and it was long. When we got inside I asked the worker how long was the track and she pointed to the poster. It was 1 ½ mile long track and I jumped in joy. My dad bought 5 rounds for me and 3 for my sister on the
Finally, my baseball season was over as we lost to a better team in the playoffs. Never in my life was I excited to lose. Since I was one of the worst players, in which I sat on the bench in almost every game, I didn’t want to waste my time in the sport. Eventually, I sat out a year of playing the sport to run track instead. Even though the track was good for me, I never really enjoyed it that much. I was still determined
I grew up in a town with a population of around three thousand, and the youngest of eleven children who were known for playing sports. As a result, growing up I was often looked at as just another Whitworth who was expected to be a great athlete. And, for a lot of years, I tried my hardest to fit that mold. I trained harder than I ever thought
“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.
I remember it as clear as day. It had been a fairly normal week, and a routine average day. It was a Friday and I was driving home from school in my trusty Toyota Tercel. I was getting into the dreaded mental set of the game that I would be playing in that night. I had to play in the band at halftime and it was the first performance of the season. The whole ride to my house I thought about the game and hoped and prayed that we wouldn't make huge fools of ourselves. Before I knew it, I was already home. I remember thinking that it felt like the shortest drive ever, getting to beautiful Rolling Oaks. When I got home, little did I know, that there would be a huge surprise waiting for me that would change my life forever.
When I was four, I received my first Fisher Price basketball court. The court was in my house and the basket was only five feet tall. My parents placed it in the living room since it was the only room in the house without carpet. I practiced shooting every day. I would wear my father’s sneakers and imitate basketball moves that I had seen on T.V. At that age, I did not yet have any self-awareness about my potential for the sport, but my father knew it was very likely to become a passion. By the age of five, my father was taking me out to the park with a basketball and I can actually remember the day I made my first basket. After that, I went on to play in basketball leagues, as well as work out with my father in gyms every night. Those were the best of times.
Once I arrived to practice, I felt like Michael Jordan himself, my muscles felt bigger than they actually were, I felt like I could’ve dunked the ball at 4’11, although my confidence wasn’t warranted, it was much needed. I played the best that I’ve ever played up until that moment. The ball was going through the hoop, instead of going through my face. My teammates were talking to me now because I was playing well, and my coach named me the starting point guard. I slept very well that night, I proved to myself that I could do
When I was nine years old my dad bought me the basketball. The basketball wasn’t like ordinary basketballs, it was white with black stripes coming down it. Everyday after school, my dad would take me to the park so we could play basketball together. As time went on I started to sharpen my skills at basketball and ended up joining my 4th grade team. I was anxious