My Parent 's Approval Is Not The Easiest Task

We walked together to the field, the spikes on the bottom of my cleats clicking with each step on the parking lot pavement. A huge field with onlookers filling the bleachers on the far side came into view, lit up by the soft evening light. I spotted the girls on my team and my tired looking grey-haired coach. Me and my dad split up, me going to warm up with my team and my dad going to sit with the team parents. As I was passing with my teammates I watched the opposing team carefully. I observed how neat their drills were and how accurate their shots and passes were. They all looked so athletic and that really made me doubt myself. How was I supposed to prove to everyone that I was a good player if I had to play against a team this good? What if I mess up and the other team completely destroys my team? The loud buzzer that ended the warm ups sounded and both teams went to their side of the field. My coach called today’s starters out, and luckily he didn’t choose me. Relieved, I went to go sit on one of the hard metal chairs they provided for the teams on the sidelines. The chairs were uncomfortable but that didn’t bother me. I had other things on my mind. I sat shivering watching the events of the game

I had grown to know the coaches, my footwork had improved leaps and bounds compared to when I came into the program, and yet still I was nervous. I knew too many people were trying out for my position, one of us was going to be cut, and with two returning seniors there was two spots for three of us. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the one to pick. Maybe it was my size, my speed, my control of the ball, whatever it was, it just wasn’t good enough and on the last day of try outs, myself and three others were called over to have the news broken to us that there just wasn’t enough positions open. I was crushed.

It all began on November 3, 2015 during my first middle school basketball tournament. The grey brick walls of the gymnasium looking more like a prison than a school. The school’s “Lincoln Park Elementary School” sign had graffiti and missed a couple letters from the name. The court was terribly small, but we began by playing the superb team of Jam on It. We were blown out and I headed back up to my mom and dad in the parent filled stands. The game wasn’t even fun to play and we looked like third graders playing them. I looked up to my parents as sad as could be.

It was my sophomore year, and the day had come to find out who made the varsity lacrosse team. We piled into the locker room to discover rows of brand new helmets. The list of the varsity players was written on the whiteboard. The team was excited, the locker room buzzing with noise. My heart dropped as I realized that my name wasn’t written there. My friends were admiring their new helmets and I had to hold back tears and disappointment. I know now that I still had to be developed at the junior varsity level, but it wasn’t easy to understand back then. At practice that day, I played out of pure spite, every move filled with rage. You aren’t good enough, I thought. I left practice that day without saying goodbye to my friends.

We rushed out onto the field for the last time. The chilly rain was pouring down. The field was soaked. With every step I took there was a sloshing sensation in my cleat. I put my game face on. No ball would get by me. We were going to score. We were going to win. For the next twenty five minutes, I watched a back and forth in the midfield. Several times I stopped the ball and passed it forward to Kaylee, only for the pass to be intercepted before we were able to score. And then, just as the clock was running down to under five minutes left, I stopped a hard pass just outside our circle. I dribbled for several

I was an incoming freshman, two weeks prior to my first day of high school, and I was terrified. I knew that I loved the sport of football, however I had heard stories from my brother about how tough Stepinac’s freshman football coach was. Everything that I was told was true. One of the coaches great lessons that he taught me was that a hardworking disciplined team is typically more successful than a team that has all of the talent in the world, but is not disciplined and does not work hard. That summer was the hardest that I had ever worked up to that point to start in a football game. The hard work never paid off, and I left at the end of that season defeated. I wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t fast enough, and I wasn’t strong enough. I had only played in two of the games, one, for a snap when

On this bright and sunny day of August. I was very happy and excited to be starting my first day of Booker T. Washington high school as a freshman.Today I am going to tryout for pom with my friends Maddison, Haleema, and Jose. As I walk out the school doors to go home and get ready for pom tryouts I get butterflies in my stomach because I’m very nervous. When we are driving up to the school I look at all the people who are here and I know that Haleema, Maddison,Jose and I have to try our best if we really want to make it.The next couple of days as I walk down the hall I see the boys and girls who tried out for pom rushing to an orange paper hanging on the wall next to the lockers. On the paper I see Maddison and I made the team. That moment I noticed that Haleema and Jose were a little disappointed because they tried their hardest. So they decided to join track the next day. Maddison and I were very excited that we had pom practice the next day.

My stomach twisted at the thought of losing when we pulled into the McDougal High School’s parking lot. I ran into the building where our coach taught us the new positions until it was time to play. The ref blew the whistle and threw the ball into the air. I jumped up with my feet dangling off the ground and slapped the ball out of its orbit and ran down the court. I could feel my heart beating, I lurched to a screaming halt at the three point line and pushed the ball towards the basket. I shut my eyes hoping it would make it. I heard the ball drop to the ground and the crowd that was erupting with cheers, I opened my eyes and saw my teammates smiling. “That’s a girl!” my coach hollered as I ran towards the sideline and sat down on the bench. We ended up winning by 2 points after two overtime periods.

I woke up to my mom entering my room screaming, “ ITS GAME DAY!” Instead of waking up to my usual routine, sluggish and begging for more sleep, today was completely different. It was a beautiful and sunny Saturday in December. I still was in shock my school finally made it to the championship game. It felt like a dream as if my mother never woke me up by her yelling. I knew this was a huge game and something I would remember forever. Considering the high circumstances of this game I knew I had to be one hundred percent ready to play my best. My head coach, Coach Sphire wanted all of us players to report to the film room by noon that day. As time past by my team I had discussed many offensive and defensive plays, watched film, and prepared ourselves

I rode home with my family after the varsity game, It was really quiet. We went to practice Monday and I was named starting center. We got a talk on how we could’ve done better and on what we did right. Coach Warden Said he’d give us an F on defense and an F on offense. We went into our first home game 1-0 with high hopes of beating Mount Vernon. I was pumped when we walked out onto the field Friday to get warmed up for our game. Considering it was our first home game as high schoolers. We went out and took a 6-0 lead after we failed the 2-point conversion in the first quarter. We scored again early in the second quarter to take a 14-0 lead after we made our first 2-point conversion out first of the year. The rest of the quarter was all Mount Vernon, the came back and tied us at half 14-14. Coach gave a speech at halftime, which I personally think it stuck in our heads the rest of the game. We ended up winning 34-28, I felt super happy like a lion catching it’s prey. We got ready for Davenport the next week but got hammered terribly. The final score was 48-6, they played some sophomores that made a differences, but we couldn’t do anything about

It was the fourth quarter in the conference championship game and the bright green scoreboard read 40 to 39 with 10 seconds left. The fans were out of their seats flailing their arms with wide eyes. The glowing lights in the gym beamed off of the shiny court which smelled like glossy wood. I had butterflies in my stomach ,and my heart was racing. As soon as I heard the high shrill of the whistle, I was ready to play ball.

Going into the start of the basketball season, I was ecstatic to finally bring the ball down the court as a varsity point guard, but my joy quickly turned to frustration when my role changed. I worked hard every single day in order to earn a position in that starting five; I put in extra effort before and during the season. After a few games, my hard work seemed to be insignificant because my playing time started to be cut. As time went on, I played on the court less and less until finally I didn’t play at all. Gretchen Wald, the power forward, received less playing time as well. We were both confused and frustrated. Despite the dissatisfaction, Gretchen encouraged me to continue to work hard and stay positive. She always kept a smile on my face during practice and games. Also, I would find notes in my locker from her that encouraged me to keep fighting through the difficult season. During games I would look at the other girls with jealousy because I longed to play the game I loved again, yet Gretchen still found ways to make me laugh throughout the game. Among the many people who have touched my life significantly, Gretchen Wald stands out. Although basketball season was filled with disappointments, I learned that friendships and a positive attitude can make a situation

The Hornets felt like Flanagan had to be in an easy seed. The Hornets had played to the 4th quarter and decided to put the second string in. The Hornets came out with a win 46- 31. The Hornets were 3rd in state. The Hornets were so happy they all went out on the court and started jumping. They boys had gotten a trophy and medals. Matt was the point leader in that game with having his threes spot on. Matt was in tears winning that game and having his team come all this way. The boys were heading home with a fire truck and cop flashing lights and making noise at 8;30 at night on a Saturday. The Hornets were in the newspaper from their victory and effort. The Hornets were on a float in the parade and got cheered on by everyone they went by. After all the effects from winning state everyone was sad that it’s over, but they knew they could attack state next year. Matt was a huge part of the team. He was an excellent shooter and defender. He was a great captain to the team and also the best focused person to the game. The Hornets had done an excellent job making this far in basketball and everyone was proud of them. Matt was happy with the outcome, but ready to do more next year. State

3…2…1…BZZZZT. The buzzer sounded and tears flooded my eyes as I sunk to the ground in what felt like slow motion. I couldn’t breathe. As I looked to the left I watched the blue and gold sea of fans as they rushed to file out of the stands as if they were being herded like cattle. As I looked to the right I saw the scoreboard, both making the tears fall faster. This was our shot, one win away from making a state appearance in over eight years and we blew it in the sectional final game. That was the last time I would ever play high school basketball.

One rainy night in November, I arrived to the church gym for my first basketball practice of the season. As I walked in the doors creaked and you could smell the gym floor. As I already heard the basketballs hitting the ground, bouncing up and down. My friends Brittany and Destiny walked in right behind me through the door. That was when we realized we were the only girls surrounded by all guys. As practice came to a start we began to run, it felt like we were never going to stop. Up and down the court as we ran suicides, you could hear the squeaking of shoes as we went from the next line back and then on to the next. Before we started scrimmaging, the two captains were boys. Brittany, Destiny, and I stood in amazement as we were the last three standing there. You could see by their expressions they didn’t want any of us on either team.