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Personal Narrative: My First Sports Day

720 Words3 Pages

Let me redefine what music to my ears is; it’s when the soles of my Nike shoes rub against the polished woody floor. That’s when a symphony is created. Every squeak and every push composes a harmonic rhythm creating hypnotic effects leaving me weak and defenseless. The smell of sweat, the rubber ball, and popcorn coming from the crowd intoxicates me and somehow transforms me into an unstoppable threat running around the court. The continuous flash of the cameras all around the court and the cheering of the crowd make me realize how important moments like this are. Such moments are keys that unlock me from the shackles of the stresses of life and allow me to express myself. Such moments I experience whenever I play basketball. My first “Sports Day” was in 2000 when I was a kindergartner. That was the day I scored a ball in that rim that seemed so far from my small body. Everyone around me was cheering and yelling my name. I couldn’t believe my eyes; I felt I was Michael …show more content…

I succeeded at every level of play, and by the time I was a freshman in high school, I was chosen to be the captain of my school team. It was a moment of pride and a dream I always had. “Ayman’s Tournament” is a huge tournament my school participates in annually. Three years ago, while playing the final game, I tried blocking a shot, but unfortunately I fell and twisted my left knee. I screamed and cried for countless hours. It made me feel bad to leave my team behind in the most difficult time where we either win the championship, or lose. On my way to the hospital, I received a call from my teammates shouting and cheering telling me they won the championship and that they’re waiting to celebrate the winning with me after I come back. I forgot all the pain I was going through and nothing mattered at the moment; it just felt so good. After seeing several doctors, I was told that I ruptured my anterior cruciate

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And of course there is that one jokester in the team that makes everyone laugh which made our team better and more special and unusual. But, before the game starts, one of our players couldn't play ,and had to watch the game on stands because he was younger than most of us and can go to tournament next year too. He was half-crying and if I was him, I would probably cry too. So, my teammates and coaches made him feel better. After watching a video to get ourselves ready for the game, we headed down the hall to the arena, to play the first very important game.

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In my dazed state I was harshly awoken by a yank of my arm almost out of socket as I was pulled up. I searched for a comforting gaze from a teammate or coach something to reassure my fantasy that this was not my fault, but rather as looked at my coach my gut wrenched with disappointment as his disapproving scowl pierced my heart. I realized that this play would be my last that season, and I had forever marked my performance with a brand of failure. While on the sideline, the faces of coaches, players, and my parents occupied my thoughts and altered my reality. However as this final judgement on my performance was handed down, the cause for my failure was that I prepared for only what I anticipated.

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I saw a gap between two defenders and I made the run as my center mid played a perfect ball. After the 45 yard run, with a defender on my right side, I realized this is it. The hundreds of road trips, hours practicing, and the pain comes down to this. I took one touch and sent a blazing shot to the back post, upper 90. I stood in awe as I heard the crowd going insane.

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Blinded by the sunlight I still tried to withstand its power and held my glove out to catch the incoming pop fly. Before I knew it, the ball was directly in front of my face and hit me on top of my forehead. I cried, nevertheless I was still determined to stay in my third base spot that I earned. That was strike one. My first at bat was my best at bat.

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(when in the huddle before each game, listening to coach Vandermulen and our two captains fire us up, I am more than eager to start the game, to run long way down the court along side our fans, to make unbelievable passes without looking or behind my back, to be ready to catch and shoot, to score, or even to miss, but most of all, to play the game I love. I’m ready to do what I’ve loved since I picked up that basketball for the first time in third grade. I’m ready to be one with the team, to be a Roman. The intensity and emotions that come along with each game make me apart of that game. As a player, I live for the rivalries, the scrappy games that go down to the wire, the sweat.

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For fifteen years, baseball was my life; I have countless favorite memories and am grateful for the lessons and values learned during my baseball journey. After a year of playing in college while battling an injury, I decided to alter my goals; ultimately, I chose to leave baseball behind. Finishing out the school year left me feeling anxious pertaining to what I might expect in the future, but deep down I knew I made the right choice of transferring to the University of Illinois. Brand-new friends introduced me to opportunities I might have previously passed on, and as a result, I found myself wanting a connection to the community. Being a student teacher in our Child Development Lab, joining student organizations, and volunteering at our

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There is an old proverb, it goes “ Treat your work as though you will reap a harvest from your labors”. I had never heard of said proverb before my first day of baseball, and even if I had, I would not be able to relate in the slightest. Growing up, I learned that my natural abilities in athletics and school made it so things just came to me, I thought I was a natural born winner. This gave me the mindset that hard work was for people who actually needed it, I (obviously) not being one of those people. This mindset would be crushed on my first day of baseball practice, where I was put in my place and forced to re-evaluate what it truly means to be a successful person.

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I feel a sharp pain in my right hand, I look down after the play and notice that my middle finger is crooked, I run to the sideline and talk to my trainer, who tells me that my finger is broken. I was devastated. It was the week before my first football season as a varsity starter. However, my trainer did have some good news. I would still be able to play football that year, but I would have to wear a monster of a splint, and about a million pounds of tape

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Beep Beep! Beep Beep! The alarm bell goes off. It is 6 am on the 1st of August, 2016. First day of tryouts for my school's soccer team.

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It really makes you think about what is important to you. I can still remember the way that my life was changed by sports. As a young child, my whole life revolved around basketball, watching it, playing it, and talking about it. Every year for my birthday, my family would give me a jersey of the newest player on the Celtics. I can still remember

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Everything was going well until I faced my first real incident my junior year. Our team was successful during the last couple years, however it was not without sacrifice. Practices were long and grueling and our bodies were pushed to their physical limit, but the cheer of the crowd and the glowing feeling of winning made it all worth it. It turns out however, that the aches and pains of practice were not the only sacrifice to be

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The ironic part is it sparked something in me; I was determined to heal quickly and push myself past my limits. In the end, I became more aggressive on the field and one of the best players on my team. The coaches noticed this huge change and awarded me the Coaches’ Award at the end of the season. Knowing I had more potential, I pushed myself even further and my talents were recognized by the new coach my senior year. I achieved my goal of starting every game and played a majority of the eighty minutes of regulation time.

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Putting the fun back into physical activity for children will do wonders to foster PA. You don’t see children playing in neighborhoods anymore. A constructive approach to developing outdoor free play is, in my opinion, the cornerstone of developing a love of doing, moving, and being physically active. Many children don’t enjoy the harshness of competitive sport (I was one of them) but do enjoy being out and about doing things. As a child play that involved running, cycling, swimming, and skating were all the things that I truly loved.

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I've learned that you should never give up, and always try your best. My story started this year. I had just tried out for a competitive basketball league and I was very anxious because I didn't know what to expect at tryouts and what to expect if I made the team. I was scared I was going to mess or do something incorrect. I'd been playing basketball since the 2nd grade, so I was an experienced player.

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The first time on a football field and i was very hyped about it cause i got to play and the coach put me as starter because i was the biggest one on the field. The very first play we got sacked but are left lineman didn't stop the ball they got pushed over and we got sacked. The ball was on the 25 yard line and we were trying to get to the fifteen yard line to get the first down and we were short 10 yards but we could still get cause if we work hard you play hard.

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