Basketball Game Descriptive Essay

Keeping my book on the adjacent seat, I caught a glimpse of the black-framed wall clock out of the corner of my eye for the ninth time this hour, scrutinizing the second hand, which seemed to linger an extra minute at every passing second. I took my gaze off of the clock, silently vowing to

I stared at the piece of paper on the table in front of me. I had sat at the same desk, in the same chair for over an hour now, staring at the same piece of paper. My mind had gone blank with a serious case of writer's block. I looked at the clock on the plain, beige colored wall and sighed. An hour had passed and I continued to look at that dusty, old clock on the wall. Seconds turned into minutes, which eventually turned into an hour. My long, wavy brown hair brushed over the paper that decided if I would become a lawyer or not. I had endured almost seven years of school all to stare at this paper for an hour and have nothing. My vision was blurry, but I ignored it and tried to push through my pounding headache so that I could start my LSAT

Last night I made the 65 minute trip to Mechanicsburg, Ohio to take in the division six ,region 24 playoff game, between undefeated Mechanicsburg(10-0) and 7-3 Miami East. This was my first time seeing Miami East play. I was hoping to see a battle for four quarters, but felt the home team was going to be moving to week twelve.

When I arrived at P.S. 206 for my first day of the 4th grade on September 2nd, 2008, I was not fluent in English and a complete stranger. Since I went to a modest religious school in an insignificant town in Chernivtsi, Ukraine, I was only used to interacting with a small number of students and teachers each day. Not surprisingly, I clutched my lunch bag with anxiety to protect myself from the never ending crowd of boisterous children in the lobby of my new school. Needless to say, I was frightened and incapable of speaking up when asked where I was supposed to be. Fortunately, a teacher came up and attempted to engage me a conversation; however, my face was full of confusion. Despite her generous assistance, my day was filled with anxiety from my bizarre surroundings. My basic abilities had suddenly been torn away from me.

My mind was aching as I trudged into my seventh hour class. The clock read 2:20. Forty minutes until I was finally released of my duty, at least for the night, to absorb every ounce of knowledge that had been presented to me. The room echoed with “Hola!” and “Buenos dias!” reminding me that I had entered my Introduction to Spanish Culture and Language class. We took our assigned seats as the bell rang. As I was locating my pencil from my overfilled backpack, the door opened revealing a disoriented and slightly sweaty junior boy.

Math drags on even longer than usual. I still don't take notes. I'm much too depressed to listen. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into days. I couldn't stop thinking about Canada. Much after I thought it would, the bell finally rang.

I laced up my shoes as tight as a business man's wallet. I stepped on the court the hardwood feeling like clouds under my feet. I was getting ready to make the jump not a doubt in my mind that I couldn't do it. And then I took off like a bullet coming out of a gun.

Score! “Lee County takes another point in the volleyball tournament” says the announcer. The team starts to fall apart as we lose our game towards Lee County High School home of the Lady Trojans. The score is 24-14 as we fall behind. While i’m sitting on the bench waiting to sub in with my other teammate I began to feel nervous. What if I mess up the game for everyone. “7 for 40 you may go.” says the Ref. I start to play with my hands which is a sign of me getting nervous about something. All the players in Lee County are very serious and aggressive, which is a good thing just not to the extent they are. The whistle begins to blow for the girl on the other team to serve the ball. Right when she hits the ball I noticed the ball was heading straight towards me “Mine mine mine!” I said. My arms extended out into the playing position and I passed the ball to Nicky which is our setter. The setter on the team has a hard position because they constantly hear us call for the setter to set us a ball to hit and they have to be able to get to the ball to receive a second hit. Unfortunately Lee County got the winning point to this game but the next time we play them we will have the winning point.

They were through the halfway point of the season with the best record in the league, but that didn’t let Gregory allow himself to relax one bit. He pushed further and further, wanting not only to continue winning, but for the winning margin to increase. Being a veteran on the hockey team, he understood how teams can collapse or come together during the second half of the season, and he wasn’t going to let his teammates relax with the first half of the season performance. He held workouts for his team in the early morning before dawn, a routine he used to only hold himself accountable for before this season.

“Pop”! I collapse on the cold hard floor as immediate pain rushes to my left knee. All I manage to utter are groans as my friend asks if I’m okay and tries to lift me off the ground. I limp off in his arms as I’m assisted to the nearest bus stop. Once I’m off the bus I observe that I’m limping badly and my knee is swollen to the size of an orange. A little voice in my head told me this wasn’t the common mishap that happens during basketball. It told me I wasn’t going to be able to slap on an ice pack and be okay the following day. However, I temporarily disregarded this voice, and, being the optimistic person that I am, hoped for the best. I figured I would be back to normal within weeks. This wasn’t the case. My mother eventually decided

My heart was beating, and my hands were sweating. I walked into the lifeless classroom with a scruffy board that said: “Algebra 1”. Looking at the ticking clock, I counted down the time so that I can immediately walk out. I struggled and my fear of failure grew.

As I dribbled through cones, performed numerous exercises on the agility ladder and meticulously gaged my form as I hurled up ball after ball trying to perfecting my jump shot at midnight, I knew copious other high school, college and NBA basketball players were exerting as much and, if not, more effort and energy in hope of making small strides in their game that would all accumulate and help be a transformed player next season. Basketball, in its purest form, is a team of players that use various plays, technique and strategies to outscore their opponent as well as to stop their opponent from scoring; however, after competitively playing basketball at the high school level and watching the NBA as a fanatic and enthused fan as well as examining other aspects a fan is bound to come across whiles watching the NBA, such as the reporters, seemingly excessive money and how the game is played, it’s as if high school basketball and the NBA are playing two distinct sports.

My body was shaking as I felt the cold sweat drip down my face. I glanced at the crowd and saw everybody standing to watch how the basketball game was going to play out. The sound of fans cheering pounded against my ear drum, as if everyone in the gym had circled around me. As time winded down, the ball ended up back in my sweaty hands. I had the chance to win the game for my team. I had prepared for this moment my whole life, in the driveway, but in the driveway I was alone; the only thing I was playing against was my imagination. As I attempted the winning shot, the only thing I felt was my heart beating rapidly, , so fast it wasand the only thing I saw was the ball float through the air.

I couldn’t believe that my time was finally here. It was my day, my day to start over, my day to leave everything from this life behind me. I smacked my lips quietly and rolled my tongue around my mouth, looking into the glaring red clock face in front of me as it looked back into me. It was 2:37 A.M., the same time I woke up everyday.

It was just another ordinary day at my household. Yet at the back of my mind, I was tugging on a memory- something about it being Sunday. Finally, I realized it. There was basketball practice on Sundays. I was ecstatic, but I wanted reassurance for my excitement, so I texted my friend JP to confirm the time.