Descriptive Writing Basketball

Back into the story of me when I was on the soccer team. Being on the team in the first year of high school brings lots of honor, as much as pressure. I have to show them that I have enough ability to play with people who are older than me. For that reason, I decided to train very hard in order to prepare for the city’s soccer league. I was always the first one who went to the training camp and the last one who left there. It was the first

Basketball was my favorite sport growing up. I’ve played since I was little and I still play the game today. I played basketball at my elementary school, St. Cecilia, from Kindergarten till 8th Grade and also played AAU basketball for about 2 years before entering High School. Going into my freshmen year of High School, the first sport I played was basketball. Tryouts began in about the start of November and ended about 2 weeks after. I had made the Freshmen A team. I was excited and as the season progressed, we didn’t win many games but I still had fun playing. Nearing the end of the season, golf was another sport coming up that I also wanted to try and play. I say “try and play” because at the time, I was also going to play AAU basketball. I had set in my mind that I was going to play basketball for all of my four years of high school, but my parents pushed me to tryout for golf. When the basketball season ended, golf tryouts started. Tryouts lasted for about 2 weeks, and I made the JV team. When I found out I made the team, I was very surprised. I hadn’t put in the hard work as others before tryouts came around, but the coach saw potential in me and that I can become a great player. The coach saw so much potential in me, that every week, I kept progressing in skill and fine tuning my mechanics. Halfway through the season, about 4 or 5 weeks after I made the team, my coach gave me the chance to play with the Varsity Golf team for a couple days. I was excited and eager to

I felt my heart racing as I imagined making the top team in the club. I knew right then and there that I was going to try out for the team as soon as I discussed it with my parents. After my parents’ approval, I went to the first tryout with high expectations and aspirations. The tryout was going well at first; my skill was evident on the ice. I was making quick passes and skating hard. I will never forget the fateful pass that happened next. I remember the play in slow motion. I passed the puck through the center ice, a precarious move, but it was intercepted by the opposing team and as a result they scored a swift goal. Groans from the other players could be heard and my heart sank. That pass would determine my fate. After the tryout, I undressed slowly replaying the pass repeatedly in my head. Coach Ruben walked out of his office with the list of players who made the team in his hand. As he posted the list on the bulletin board, all the eager players ran over, examining the list of names. I stared at at the list for what seemed like an eternity searching for my name, but it was not there. I stifled my disappointment and followed my parents out to the car. To my ten year old self, my dreams were crushed and I assumed my hockey career was over before it even

Again, tryouts came for the next greuling school year. The only difference from last year, I was prepared. I knew the cheers, I knew the feeling of standing in front of crowd so ecstatic from a winning game and I knew the feeling of a crowd sitting at a loss for words in the face of defeat. I knew my goal and I was absolutely determined to reach it. I could only be described as a lioness on the prowl and the Varsity squad was my prey. Just as anxious as the year before, though this time with a hint of confidence, I made my tryout a culmination of completely everything I had learned from my wildly experienced past. That night, I reached my ultimate goal and earned the prized name of Varsity cheerleader. The next day I practically walked around with an enormous V on my forehead, honored by the position. With all this positivity, I knew there was something to come. That same summer, I hadn’t received a lucky chance to become even a contender in the

It was a very warm and tense place in the gymnasium of the Alpena High School. A group of freshman and sophomore baseball players were waiting for the words you wanted to hear which was “Congratulations” or the not so good news of “Sorry” from the coach deciding if you made the team. Personally, at the start of baseball tryouts I thought to myself it’s going to be a toss up to see if I would make the team having a 50/50 chance. I was nervous for the most part because there were an abundace of upperclassman also trying out for the team that were on it last year. There were twenty-seven people trying out for fifteen spots to play JV baseball.

Fast forward to the next year, I showed up at tryouts. I was confident, but still nervous considering what happened the year before. As I jumped in the pool I was ready for whatever the coach threw at me. Not once did I get lapped. The coach posted the list, I anxiously looked over it and saw my name. Relieved and overjoyed, I had finally made it. Later that year I even won the coaches award at the banquet. Forget about making the team, I was now an

This was our opportunity to do so, before we had to act as competitors and not companions. After catching up, we rushed out of the changing room and into the gym, planting ourselves on the polished floors, our knee high socks sliding with every move we made. We sat in silence as the coach, Mr. McBurney, approached us and informed us about how each practice would play out, and about how even if some of us did not make the team, we should all treat each other as if we are teammates.

I was competing for a spot with girls I had never even seen before, and even worse: I had no idea what they were capable of. Tryouts gave me the same rush of adrenaline I felt during my first performance. As much as I loved the feeling, I was terrified of it all at once. Once I made my first impression on the judges, it was time for the waiting game. It took a solid three weeks until I got my letter in the mail that held my future cheer sealed inside. To my delight once more, the contents of the letter were more than exciting. “Congratulations! You are invited to cheer on Saint Francis Junior Varsity Cheerleading!” stated the letter in big bold block letters. The season flew by faster than the speed of light, and before I knew it I was feeling the adrenaline rush again inside the sticky, hot gym. I put my spot on the squad in jeopardy by going for the varsity squad as a junior, which was something very risky because the seniors always got selected above a junior. Taking this risk was something I would have never done, as I used to always play it safe. An upperclassman I had confided in when I met her during my basketball season watched my tryout from outside the window looking into the gym, and she said I had killed it, and the letter I received that April reflected that. I was one of two juniors cheering on the football squad of all seniors.

I stumble out the front of the class towards the trampoline. My heart starts beating faster. My vision blurs. I can’t breathe.

“Now everybody turn to your left, now your right. I see, and you all see an abundance of members, but by the end of season this team will not be this big. Not because of my fault, but because of your own inability to want to work hard and improve. Some of you will finish this season and some of you will say, ‘I quit.’ You determine your fate. Welcome to the Monmouth-Roseville Cross Country team. I’m your coach Samuel, but you can call me Sam.” I had finally met my coach.

May 17, 2015. That was the day that was going to determine whether or not I will make the Dana Hills pep squad. The previous two days I successfully learned a new dance and two new cheers. It is very quite difficult to learn something when there are over 100 girls trying to learn the same thing from only three coaches. My sweaty, soft (alliteration) hands griped on to the large blue doors. As I walked through, I felt the cool breeze sweep across my face like a spooky ghost on Halloween night (simile). I shakily signed (alliteration) my name in and grabbed my tryout number. All of the girls who were trying out gathered in the mall, all dressed in a clean white shirt, blue shorts, and their hair up in a hair ribbon/bow. Minutes seemed to turned

Anxiety surged through every portion of my body. Tears streamed down my face almost as fast as thoughts flooded through my head. “It won’t be the same. You’ll be uncomfortable. The coach will hate you. They’ll all make fun of you. You won’t be good enough.” I struggled to push the thoughts from my head.

As the final tryout practice came to the end, it was time for me to meet with my coaches and talk about my skills demonstrated during tryouts. When I came into the coach's office, they were all sitting behind or around one desk. I came in confident and had my mind set on which team my skill level was at. As I was looking around the room and at all three of the coach’s faces, they were expressing a look to which I took as “something good was about to be told to me”. So my disappointment on when they had told me I was making Jv2 was a big thing I would have to deal with.

Running into the gym with my team, knowing it was my last middle school basketball game, but first championship game I felt elated and truly blessed. My knees quivered with anticipation after seeing all the bleachers filled with people. After realizing even the press and other media was in attendance I grasped the moment like a newly elected president at his inauguration. I am warming up doing basketball drills, when I began to look at the flags on the gym wall depicting the history of the basketball team. The years and dates of the last championship game, Historically a championship game had not been won since 2007 . The more I stared at the flags, the more it made me want to win this game and make history in this gym. As the crowd and cheerleaders start to chant, cheer and get loud, I started to feel more comfortable and rowdy more than I had ever felt in any other game that I’ve played. Waiting for the referee to blow the whistle for jumpall to start. I felt my fingertips tapping the side of my leg, which for some reason gives me a sign to myself that I am pumped up and ready to play!

I felt like I could do anything. The moment was extremely surreal. I hadn’t accomplished anything so arduous in my life. The crowd’s cheers were thundering through my body. I had so much adrenaline coursing through my veins that I wasn’t even weary. People were jumping up and down, screaming in victory, and clapping so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. I couldn’t believe that I had just won the State Championship volleyball game.