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My Basketball Experience

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It was a brisk Saturday morning in late March; I shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen where my dad was waiting for me. “Ready to go?” he asked in a less than enthusiastic voice. My dad was never a morning person, and forcing him to wake up to attend my games really put that into perspective. But on this particular Saturday I couldn’t care less; this was an important day, my final basketball game of the season and my final season of my basketball career, a series finale if you would. “Sure am” I responded quickly, as I walked out of the house in my uniform and flip flops so as not to damage my basketball shoes on the walk to and from the court. As ridiculous as this degree of shoe protection sounds, it was common practice between me and my teammates.
Driving over to the court I reflected back on my five years spent on my middle school basketball team. I was never an athletic child, but basketball was the center of my middle school’s student life. Those who didn’t belong to the team were cast out of most social groups and were less popular within the school. Regardless of my years of experience and practice I was never considered a good player. My ball-handling and shooting skills were slightly worse than all the teams we played against and admittedly I spent most of my time on the bench. Even on my time on the court I didn’t see the ball much as it was held for the majority of the game by point guard Jack Soucy. Jack was by far the best player on the team and due to his
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