Ever since the age of five I have had a burning passion for the game of basketball. From observing my uncles and cousins playing daily pick-up basketball at the local Jersey Village Park, it instilled in me a competitive vigor to push beyond all extremes, no matter the difficulty. Although I have always loved the game of basketball, the game has not always loved me back, and at times has been unforgiving.
By the beginning of seventh grade an expectation was placed upon myself to make the basketball team. My older brother served as an inspiration for me to make the team since he had made the team in Middle School and was a top notch player. Even though I had played basketball with my brother five times a week for twelve years, by the time seventh grade came around I was not nearly as skilled and athletic as him. I also weighed a whopping 190
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As Coach Matthews made his entrance he bellowed to the peculiar preteens in attendance. “O.K. boys this tryout is going to be quick and simple. All you have to do is make a layup, make five out of ten free-throws, and pass the vertical jump test.” Upon hearing these remarks I felt elated because the tasks mentioned seemed fairly easy, however I proved to be wrong. As tryouts ensued I would pass the layup and free-throw drills, all that stood between me and an elusive spot on the team was the vertical jump test. “Alright Mr. Ahmed, all that is left for you to do is to jump fifteen inches, and touch the top wall. However, by judging by your stature and weight I doubt you will even be able to jump one inch off the floor,” mocked Coach Matthews. Enraged by my coach’s spiteful words and eager to prove him wrong I took a “leap of faith”, but alas, I failed. As I went home that evening discouraged, I felt as if I botched not only myself, but also, my