Descriptive Essay On Basketball

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The First Shot At the park, 5 pm, the grass was green, and the air was chilly. The sounds of basketballs bounced a thousand times like a heartbeat. That’s the chill I have: sweat dripping down my forehead. The chills on my spine on how I would get ready to shoot the basketball. The thing my ancestors and father passes down to my brother and I was the love of basketball and the game. It all started that morning, everyone just bouncing the ball like animals, and how they would play each other in a game of basketball. They would also, in the end, shake the other person’s hand out of respect, walk away, and later find another person to play the game with. The love of basketball all started with my grandfather and my dad. “ Shing, you gotta look up at the rectangular space of the basketball hoop; therefore, feel that vibe of getting ready to shoot that shot and feeling that dazzle. You gotta feel the air charging through your veins and look up at the basket and stare at where you shoot. Your eyes gotta have to be like an eye of a hawk.” said my grandfather “ But dad, I feel that I can’t just shoot the ball and make it into the basket. I need courage and help to make it be successful at the operation. I am just so scared that I will miss a lot of shots and be bad at the sport” my dad replied. “Son, you gotta look at the basket and imagine it to be a nest of a bird and the ball the bird. SInce, the bird has to always go fly back home and see it’s children, you

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