Personal Narrative-How To Play Basketball

Our 8th grade basketball team were putting on a show! Opponents would enter bobcat territory where our team would play a hard fight to take another win. Every game spectators are left in astonishment after witnessing determination, willingness, and our spirit until the clock expires down to its last second.

Individually we made our way back onto the court. We couldn’t pull through as a team and the discouragement was toxic. I ripped the ball from the opponents hands and began to force my way up the court to make a layup, or assist Sydney from cross-court. The opponents gathered around me, and began to ferociously hit and push at me. I fell to the ground and lost the ball. I had failed the play. I looked back at my enemy, his eyes blackened, and mine widened when he screamed,

The score was sixty-six to sixty-seven, West Point beating Oak Hill with two seconds left in the game. I snatched the ball from the guard with the time ticking down. The clock ticked to .5 seconds left. I unloaded the ball from half court. The ball sailed in mid air spiraling around with tons of backspin.  My shot was a miracle on hardwood!  It splashed like a soft rain drop trickling on concrete.  My team went bananas, jumping around as if they were fish looking for water.  It took me awhile to comprehend the shot, but figured out the feat I accomplished when I got off my crippled, bruised up knees.  I just won the first Oak Hill basketball National Championship in fifteen years on a half court heave.

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.

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.

There was complete silence in the gym. Then all at once the gym exploded in cheers. I made the shot...I actually made the shot. Before I had any other time to think, my teammates were hugging me, thanking me, and cheering so loud. All I said was, “Thank you all so much, I couldn’t do it without you guys, we are champions!”

The score was now 56-54, and the Spartans had lost their edge. Greg had gone into the game due to the injury of Johnny, and was having trouble finding his game. He missed some easy shots and turned the ball over three times. He felt so much pressure to help his team. The Spartans were now down 56-61, with 1 minute to go in the game. The game was intense and the crowd was going nuts. Greg made a nice pass to his teammate, and the score was cut to 3 points. The Spartans played a tough man to man defense and stopped the Cougars. There were 10 seconds left in the game and the clock was ticking down. Greg was behind the three point line in the corner. It was as if the play was in slow motion. Sharply, the ball was passed to Greg(4). Greg peaked at the clock and it was down to three seconds. He knew it was up to him. The defender closed in so tight that it blocked his vision to the basket. He got hit hard on the arm and threw the ball up in desperation. The ball flew out of his hands, hit the back of the rim, bounced eight feet in the air, and as the ball fell, it went swish, right through the hoop. Time had expired, and the game had been tied. Greg had to make the biggest free throw of his life. The crowd was screaming as loud as they could, hoping he would miss the shot. They sounded like wild animals. Greg heard none of this, he was determined(19). The free throw went up, banked off the glass perfectly, and went in the basket! The Spartans had won the STATE CHAMPIONSHIP! They rushed the court and lifted Greg up as a

The screaming gym fades, as I roll, on the rim, the edge. There wasn’t much I could’ve done to influence the outcome of the game thus far, but I could here—now. With just a little lean, I could end the game. My team would win, but not really —they would win because I helped them… On the other-hand, if I didn’t influence the game would be left to chance, and could go into overtime. Coach once said “the spirit of the game giving it our all, is more important than winning.” Perhaps it still applies, perhaps there are no losers in a good game. It was great to make it this far as it is, and the other team had probably worked just as hard… Solidifying my choice, I decide not to change my course and, obeying laws of physics… I roll for a second before falling… Falling into the basket, I give the Orange team a

I remember the first time i made the game winning shot during a basketball game. I remember as a kid, in the front yard by myself, “3...2...1...Swish,” the net sounding like a big rip in your clothes. Then I whisper out loud, “and the crowd goes WILD! Aaaaaaah!” Even in the front yard by myself, making that buzzer beater felt like i was on top of the world. Sometimes my dad would come outside and play with me. He’d always say, “you know, soon enough that shot will actually count in a real game if you keep practicing hard like that.” But i never really paid much attention to him when he said that.

I dribbled left, crossed over to my right hand and went in for a layup, and...BANG! The door to the garage flew open and I missed the basket by a mile. “Emily! I just got the email! You are one of seven girls to make the Prime Time basketball team!” my mom yelled form the doorway. I felt as though the sun had just got ten times brighter, and the rest was a blur. I thought back to my tryouts.

Olah I’m Josie,I'm from mexico i'm gonna play basketball and i'm in the finals surprisingly. My competition names are Charlie,Austin,Aaron,Jonathan,and Michael. They been playing games for a long time i'm guessing. they are shooting hoops practicing. My teammates are Charlie and Michael which i'm not complaining or anything. My team's strategy is to pass it to one person every time and then switch to confuse our competitors. We start off when the horn goes off and we get the ball first. My teammates were eager to win so we kept passing it like we planned. We quickly pass it to one player then shoot it and make it.we have 1 minute and it's 25 to 30 we have 25 so we pulled ourselves together and get back in the game. We catch up and it's tied

I cannot remember the day I first held it in my hands. The notion yielded to be genuine. Over time, the game of basketball converted into a textbook. It is a textbook that is thrown away by the irresponsible student but cherished by the resolved. It is not a textbook to be skimmed through or forgotten in a locker. It is a textbook where each lesson is invaluable and could be interpreted in various ways each time it is read. People who see it as just another commodity are ignorant towards the textbook but for me, I see every page as priceless paintings. To the capable mind, the textbook is not a collection of valuable paintings, it was a study guide to succeed in life.

Before the championship game, I thought miracles only happened in movies. However, this game would change my perspective of that thought forever. We had gone undefeated on the season, so I completely expected to win. This was my first time in a highly competitive basketball league, with championships and trophies, so naturally I was a little scared. However, I had friends on the team who probably felt the same as me. I had spent the past few hours mentally, and physically preparing myself for this game. Today, I was ready to win.

So this happened in 8th grade and it was wednesday morning me and my friend we eating

“C’mon Drew,” I urged, hoping to instill some confidence in our top scorer. “When you’re on top of your game, there is no way we can lose.” The clamor of basketballs bouncing off the freshly polished floor and the perpetual squeaking of sneakers blended into a euphonious rhythm which characterized most of the summer. We were practicing for our annual basketball tournament, this year held in Dallas, and the anticipation and excitement had risen to all-time highs as we were expected to defend our championship from last year. As co-captain of the team, it was my responsibility to ensure our teammates were focused at all times and to spearhead our success in the tournament.