Topic of your choice.
I walk into the gym, and suddenly I'm struck with a sudden sense of belonging. My head lifts, my shoulders straighten, and I feel ten feet tall. I pick up a basketball, letting my fingers glide over the leather pebbling, and bounce it once experimentally. As the ball returns to my hands- faithful, as always -I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat. Fourteen years of my life have been devoted to this sport; now I only have one season left.
To say what basketball means to me would take a thousand pages. Its more than just a game, more than a way to learn teamwork or how to handle competition. Basketball is <i>freeing.</i> With that ball in my hands, I'm able to just forget. To revert to my most basic instincts. There is no stress, only the smooth rhythm of moving into a well practiced shooting position. I don't have time to worry about anything when I'm on that court- every decision must be split-second. When you're in mid-air, trying to maneuver your body enough to get around an opponent while switching the ball from one hand to the other, you have to trust your instincts. It's a release- an escape from stressful life into a world where you're not judged based on appearance or intelligence, but heart.
I regard the basketball in my hands nostalgically. The little sphere of rubber and air that taught me about teamwork, friendship, hard work, and so much more. Looking up at the orange hoop, I resolve that this season won't mean the end. I don't need a uniform to be a basketball player. Twenty years from now, when I'm stressed out or just need a break, I'll still have a ball in my hands.
The Greek Gods found their haven in Olympus; I found mine on a long, wooden court.
I walk into the gym, and suddenly I'm struck with a sudden sense of belonging. My head lifts, my shoulders straighten, and I feel ten feet tall. I pick up a basketball, letting my fingers glide over the leather pebbling, and bounce it once experimentally. As the ball returns to my hands- faithful, as always -I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat. Fourteen years of my life have been devoted to this sport; now I only have one season left.
To say what basketball means to me would take a thousand pages. Its more than just a game, more than a way to learn teamwork or how to handle competition. Basketball is <i>freeing.</i> With that ball in my hands, I'm able to just forget. To revert to my most basic instincts. There is no stress, only the smooth rhythm of moving into a well practiced shooting position. I don't have time to worry about anything when I'm on that court- every decision must be split-second. When you're in mid-air, trying to maneuver your body enough to get around an opponent while switching the ball from one hand to the other, you have to trust your instincts. It's a release- an escape from stressful life into a world where you're not judged based on appearance or intelligence, but heart.
I regard the basketball in my hands nostalgically. The little sphere of rubber and air that taught me about teamwork, friendship, hard work, and so much more. Looking up at the orange hoop, I resolve that this season won't mean the end. I don't need a uniform to be a basketball player. Twenty years from now, when I'm stressed out or just need a break, I'll still have a ball in my hands.
The Greek Gods found their haven in Olympus; I found mine on a long, wooden court.