Gym Game Short Story

I feel the second I step onto the hardwood I immediately am filled with a sense of never ending joy, as if it was my first time setting foot in the gym and picking up a basketball, holding it in my hands as if I had the world placed in my palms. I feel as if I am in complete control, like a maestro conducting his symphony and everything I do is nothing but sweet music with the perfect melody and flow. I have that thought I can do no wrong, because every move I make, every decision I make, every shot I take is the right thing to do. When I lace up my shoes and step between the lines something great, something astonishing is released within me. Nothing can stop me. Not the referees, not the opposing fans and certainly not the opposing players. Why? Because I am in my territory, my sanctuary. The game and the court, they are my canvas, and I am Picasso, the

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.

We are going to do whatever it takes to win. My knee was aching something serious, but I wasn't going to tell the trainer because she'd keep me out of the game. We took our positions for the jump ball and I was our jumper of course. I jumped off my good leg, but I still landed with a sting in my right. Off we went like a herd of bulls running down the court. This game wasn't going to be easy by any means. Both my team and the opposing team was knocking down shots left and right. I wasn't concerned with my knee anymore because my adrenaline was pumping. We had got most of our points from fast breaks and turnovers. I was starting to become winded, my ribs felt like they were going to close in and my mouth was so dry that my tongue stuck to the roof of it. I signaled for my sub and waited for someone to come relieve me. I continued to cheer on my teammates from the bench and watched them fight

With my palms slick and my vision blurred, I gripped the ball that rested so easily in my hands. I only had one shot; there were only 30 seconds left. As I focused my attention to the basketball in my hand, I tuned out the noises of the crowd, my coach, and my teammates, trying to slow my racing heart. As another second slipped by, the pressure grow larger and I found my head swirling in circles, trying to asses my next move. Nothing came. My mind turned as blank as an untouched chalkboard and that’s when I knew it was coming, my anxiety had gotten the best of me.

After the first 10 minutes of the game, we are down by 10 points. Then slowly we started catching up to the other team. This was definitely not our game. Our point guard was having a major headache so she had to go off, we start to go downhill from there. One of the forwards was in a bad mood since we were losing so she did not pay attention in the game which lead to an embarrassing mistake. She grabs the ball from a player on the other team and runs… the wrong way, she goes up for a lay up while everyone on our team is screaming “NO!, wrong way, turn around!”, everyone pauses, players on the other team stare in confusion and others smirk. She misses and her face turns red. “I didnt um know i'm sorry” she feels ashamed. Everyone on our team feels embarrassed. Some roll their eyes, a few let out a small laugh, and for me, i just sit there with a blank face knowing that I won’t be playing anymore this year. It’s the last 5 minutes of the game and we are down by 30 points. It's over. No more games for

My team, Clackamas Select, down against a top ranked AAU team, Salem Swish. In basketball terms, it was crunchtime. We needed a 3 pointer, specifically from someone who specialized in shooting. Who would’ve thought that I, once the shy little kid who never tried, would step up to take the final shot? I got the ball, and time slowed down. I took one quick glance into the crowd, and I saw my dad. He was smiling. He knew what was coming next. The intensity of the game was reaching it's climax, with the crowd on their feet and the noise in the gym seemingly getting louder by the second.With 5 seconds left, I storm down the court, eyeing the 3 point line. I ran this simulation in the driveway all the time, yearning for the chance to be in that situation. After that it was just like practice. Garnering the remaining energy left in my body, I shot from the same distance I practiced for the past 4 years, and waited for that sweet, harmonious noise. Swish. I was surrounded by the people and sport I loved as the buzzer went off. I couldn’t be

The crowd is surrounding us with their immense eyes watching. Before I got the ball, I wiped off the sweat from my wet forehead. I attacked the leather ball. Swish! The crowd was cheering for Franklin and the supporting parents went wild! I saw my mom sitting there smiling and clapping for me. As the game continued, more and more baskets went into my team’s hoop and the other team’s hoop. The score was 24 to 20. We were losing but it didn’t mean the game was quite over yet. I tried to make more baskets, but no one was passing it to me. There was ten seconds on the clock and five, four, three, two, one! The buzzer went off loudly, hurting my ear and Franklin

We reminded each other that we needed to just have fun and relax on the court. The nerves kicked in for me once we arrived at McCormick Place. My stomach was twisting and my legs went weak. Tall escalators carried us up to the level that the courts were on. We were welcomed by a sign that said, “Welcome to the 2017 Nike Tournament of Champions.” I was shocked walking through the large doors that led to the courts. All I could see were courts upon courts. It felt like we walked forever to get to our court. As I was lacing up my shoes, all I could think about was all of the hard and long practices that had led up to this. I didn’t work hard for nothing. I realized that I was only a freshman and still had a long ways to go. Most of the nerves came out after the first game. We played three games that day with college coaches watching all of them. The lumps were in my throat and it felt like my heart sank to my stomach. I have never had college coaches watching games that I was playing in. After each game I reflected back on how I played and told myself what I needed to work on and do better at. I have never played against girls that were so good at basketball. Some of the teams had tall girls that hovered over all of us. Not all of the games went as we had planned, but we played well as a team.

As the whole team stepped off the field, the heat hit us and revealed our pale, washed out faces. We all collapsed on the sideline and chugged water down our parched throats. We used every minute of our ten-minute break to devise a new line up to better our chances of winning this championship game. As the break drew to an end, the deafening whistle blew to begin the battle once again. The battle was just as bad if not worse than before; we had wanted this championship more than anything. The physical contact between players was almost unbearable; punches being thrown, hair being pulled, legs being swept out from underneath you. This was only the beginning to a gruesome second half. The second half wasn’t only hard on our bodies, but our team. My whole team was screaming to keep the ball on the opponents’ half, but failed most of the time. The ball traveled from their side of the field to ours. With the ball being controlled more on our half, we panicked out of fear. The three center players were now easily controlling the ball in the middle of our half of the field. Their

Come o Only 5 more seconds! I almost accepted defeat, but then I saw my opportunity. my opponent had slightly overstepped his kick. I saw this and knew that he couldn't react as fast now. I immediately performed a back kick to a gruesome spinning hook kick to the head! I had barely gotten in the kick before the bell had rang! A few moments passed and I was finally awarded the shiny gold medal that I had fought for. I ran down to the bleachers and gave my father a huge hug. With as smile on my father's face he exclaimed, “I am so proud of you. You gave it your all even when all seemed lost. It was definitely worth coming here.” I felt that he really meant saying that because we were in Austin, Texas and I was now ranked number one in the nation for my bracket. I can tell from that moment that my father and I had done something

State Finals. Heading onto the bus, overly excited for this big weekend. We all know that we are going to be facing some pretty difficult teams, but also keeping in mind that we made it here and made history for our school. Stepping onto Illinois State University’s court, was priceless. The glare from the lights hitting the court making it seem extra shiny and the widespread view of over 10,000 seats. As the crowd cheers when we step onto the court, a rush of excitement hits me thinking we can do this for our team. Running up to shake the coaches and referees’ hands, as my name is called from the announcer, I’m thinking, this is it. It’s time to put everything into these two games because I might not ever be in this position again.

The piercing sound of the buzzer goes off; game time. The teams huddle tight for strategies. I can smell the tension of my teammates. We break out and anxiously walk to the court. Each player gets into position, ready to play the most important game of their life. The rubber, orange ball is thrown up to the ceiling and tipped to my team. The game begins. My point guard yells from the top of her lungs and

The unforgettable times when I gasp for air -- legs weak, feeling the burn--make me feel like I’m not gonna make it out of that gym. But when it's all over, I know I accomplished something growing as a player, and the only thing bringing me back is my belief in the love of basketball.

We’ve been outside on this dark, bitter December night since after dinner, and my hands feel like they’re about to fall off. The streetlight outside our house and the motion censor light play tricks with the shadows as my dad passes me the ball. “One more,” he says flatly, just as he always does, as the ball bounces into my hands. During my last game I missed a foul shot, and this is my punishment: one hundred foul shots every night until it doesn’t happen again, then we can go back to our usual fifty. Ninety-nine shots have come and gone, and my patience and focus have been worn thin. I look at the orange ball in my hands, covered in salt and melted snow, then to my dad, perched beneath the our rusty orange basket, hands in his pockets and his Duke ski cap covering his balding head. Focus on the basket, Kayla, I think to myself as I look to the back of the rim. Knees bent, I bounce the ball on the pavement, one, two, three, four, and the sound echoes against the neighbors’ house. I flip the ball in my hands one time, and line up my shot. In one fluid motion I extend my arm upward and forward, stretch my knees until I’m on my tiptoes, and I flick my wrist as the ball glides out of my hands. Within a second the ball glides through the net, making the most satisfying “swish” I’ve ever heard. One hundred shots came and went, and all I want to do is sprint up the icy sidewalk and glue my hands to the baseboard heat.

While in the midst of changing into the silky, grey jerseys and new, black shorts, I asked my friends if they were nervous. “A little bit.” One girl shrugged. My other friend nodded in agreement. I was baffled, feeling like I was the only girl on the team who felt like the world was coming to an end out of nervousness! I finished looping the shoelaces on my perfectly new volleyball shoes, and headed out to the court.