Basketball Shooting Narrative

On Tuesday night, I sat down on the couch in my living room and watched an NBA basketball game on ESPN. My favorite team was facing up against the best team in their division, and I was anxious and curious to see who would win. After a devastating and gruesome four quarters, my team lost 77 to 111. To say the least, it was a very hard game to watch. The players on the Los Angeles Lakers couldn’t buy a shot even if they tried, while the players on the Golden State Warriors effortlessly made nearly every shot they attempted. I wasn’t surprised when the post game statistics revealed that the field goal percentage for my team was 37.3%, while the other team’s was 48.95%. On Wednesday morning, I researched the individual field goal makes and

Even though it was a struggle for me to even go to practice everyday, I still pushed through and I made the best of every single situation. When game day came, and it was time to play, all I could think about was the feeling I would get when the ball hit my hand. Many people don’t understand what it feels like. It feels like you found a missing puzzle from your life, which you didn't even know was missing. It’s like every worry you ever had, big or small, is gone. For that split second that the ball touches your hand, nothing else matters. It’s just you, the ball, and the court.

The lights flicker on as I sit up lazily in my chair. I try to focus on the television screen as it goes black. I attempt to recollect my thoughts of what I had just seen. Then it came back to me, I was watching another one of those same cheesy videos about someone who had overcome failure to accomplish something great. I didn’t give the video any thought because all I could think about was the 8th-grade boy’s basketball tryouts after school. I was excited about the upcoming season and was eager to join the team. I watched and played basketball every day, so I felt confident in my ability to play the game the right way. As tryouts began I noticed the other kids playing extremely well so I exerted myself to step up my game and play their style.

I cannot remember the day I first held it in my hands. The notion yielded to be genuine. Over time, the game of basketball converted into a textbook. It is a textbook that is thrown away by the irresponsible student but cherished by the resolved. It is not a textbook to be skimmed through or forgotten in a locker. It is a textbook where each lesson is invaluable and could be interpreted in various ways each time it is read. People who see it as just another commodity are ignorant towards the textbook but for me, I see every page as priceless paintings. To the capable mind, the textbook is not a collection of valuable paintings, it was a study guide to succeed in life.

The last time I was at a event was at the Marquette basketball game. When we arrived we walked in and showed the security guards our tickets. They ripped the paper part of the ticket off and tossed it into the garbage. It smelled like sweet nuts and body odor as we got past the first check. After, we started walking to our seats. We had to walk up a lot of stairs to get to our destination. When we got there and the people asked if we needed anything, we all said not at the moment but maybe in a little while. When I sat down, I saw a huge sea of blue and yellow Marquette jerseys and a couple red ones for the opposing team. There was 3 minutes until game time and they were flying around a large blimp with t-shirts looped to the bottom to drop.

A player on my team grabs the ball. I sprint as fast as I can, I turn back facing the point guard, I nod. She throws the ball with force to me and right as it comes to me so does a player on the other team. Although I catch the ball, it goes straight for the tip of my finger. I wince in pain, my jaw tightens. It's like no one can see my pain. I can’t stop though, I keep running and shoot. As I go up to shoot I notice I can’t move my finger, I miss. I stand still for a split second, noticing my middle finger is as hot as an oven and is starting to swell up. I try motioning to the coach to take me off, but she doesn’t see. 20 minutes pass and the first half is over. As I go and sit down on the side, I look down at my hand, my middle finger is 2x bigger than any of my other fingers.

You do not have to be extraordinary athlete to be a good shooter. You have to expert the basic shooting fundamentals. You have to reenact in game situations when you practice. Once you’ve mastered the fundamentals, you’ll have to be confident when you take your shot, confidence is crucial.

I practiced and played basketball on a daily basis. Everyday at recess, my friends and I would play pickup games against each other. I watched the Chicago Bulls on T.V whenever they were playing and I looked up to my two favorite players Joakim Noah and Derrick Rose as role models. I loved how passionate and great Joakim Noah played. I started to play with the same type of passion that he plays with. I loved how aggressive and great Derrick Rose played. I started to play aggressive like Rose does. At recess, the next day after a Bulls game, my friends would imitate the moves of a great play made or imitate one of the announcer's (Stacy King) excited voice when a great play would happen. As recess would end, my friend Arman would chant “3! 2! 1!” If the shot went in, he would say one of Stacy’s King's popular phrases like “Big time players make big time plays!” If Arman made a great play driving to the basket, I would sometimes say another one of Stacy King’s popular phrases like “He is too big! Too strong! Too fast! Just too good!” We would also shout regular basketball phrases. Sometimes if one of us made a great shot, somebody would say a simile like ¨that jump shot was smooth as silk.¨ My brother and I

The most spontaneous thing that I have done is just playing basketball. Basketball is spontaneous to me because I just wanted to start playing the game. Therefore, my 8th grade year I played basketball for my school team and I wasn't really feeling basketball. Summer of freshman year I played summer league for L.H.S and I felt a burst of energy for the sport. After, a couple of games one of my teammates wanted me to go to their house. Little did I know I was going to get extra practice for the sport.

This summer I played basketball, another thing I did was go swimming. Both of these activities have science involved. Science has to do with they way the basketball bounces and the way that you shoot the basketball. While swimming science is in the way your body is working while you’re stroking.

My friends and I use to play on this abandoned basketball goal around the corner from my house. Every time we play on the goal a man rides pass and screams for us to get off of his property. We ran every time the man rode past. Everyone was confused because no one lived at the house so the man shouldn’t have a problem with it. The hoop looked old and rusty. It shook everytime the ball hit the rim. The next day my friends and I tried dunking on the basketball goal. My firend Mike slammed on the rim causing it to collasp as the man was driving pass.

went to the football game where Utica played Hartwick. It was a very cold night but it was a very fun game to watch. The game was Charles A. Gaetano Stadium and we were first sitting in the bleachers but we wanted to go stand on the fence because we saw more of our friends standing over there. We were standing by the far end zone so we got to see a lot of the touchdowns which was fun to watch. My friends and I like going to other sporting events because we like to see how the other sports are played and who is on the team and that we hope people come to our lacrosse games. I have always been a sports guy, for example I always football, basketball, and hockey on tv so it is a lot of fun being able to walk

Have you ever wondered how I liked basketball so much? One summer day it was about 8 o’clock in the morning my excitement practically told my mom we should do something that day, so we went to the basketball court.

Hmm… It’s sunny outside and it’s clear. There is a volleyball net out the right side of the window. In the distance there is a garbage can sitting in the parking lot. The basketball goals standing tall in the sun light. It’s very nice outside and a beautiful day. There's a slightly dark blue bench sitting in the dusk.

Near the opposing team’s goal, the ball flew to my stick telling me to shoot. The ball was like a beacon, guiding my path. As I look in front of me there is a brand new net, as white as paper. In front of the new goal, there is the other team’s goalie in the goal, defending the goal for his life. I can feel the dampness of my glove when grabbing the stick just before releasing the ball. I feet the cool breeze that feels like a cold stream against my back. As I am chewing on my stale mouth piece I could taste the saltiness of my spit.