This is the optional freelance supplemental essay for Harvard.
Some of the possible topics mentioned are:
- Unusual circumstances in your life
- Travel or living experiences in other countries
- Books that have most affected you
- An academic experience (course, project, paper or research topic) that has meant the most to you
- A list of the books you have read during the past twelve months
I've chosen to write about a sport I play.
Please tell any alterations you feel are necessary.
Thanks in advance!
Let's Play Ball!
I crouched down low on the court, my entire body contracted in a state of tension, as the noon sun beat down upon my back, turning it into a pool of sweat. I strained my eyes past my teammates, past the gossamer-like ropes of the net, past the referee to see any movement from the players of the other team. And then I saw it- a jerking movement on the other side that propelled a massive yellow object above the net. A player in front caught it and flung it back with all her might.
The game was on. But this wasn't just any game of "catch-catch". It was a game of throwball.
Unless you are okay with a ball moving at a speed of 120 miles/hour being aimed at your face, throwball would turn out to be perhaps one of the most terrifying games you could encounter in school. The game involves the passage of a ball, intermediate in weight to a basketball and a volleyball, across a net about ten feet high, between two teams of seven. The rules, though simple to comprehend, are difficult to implement, and every team's Achilles Heel lies in the inability of its members to comply with the norms. Failure to follow the rules by a team results in the other one's being given a point. Games are played for a maximum of three sets, like in women's tennis, with each set being played for fifteen points.
The aim, therefore, is to garner the maximum number of points for one's team, and to achieve this purpose, players adopt a number of tactics that include throwing the ball at an extremely acute angle toward the ground (called a "dip"), throwing the ball with tremendous force at an opponent's face ("smash") and throwing the ball so gently that it just manages to reach the other side.
I was first drawn to throwball in eighth grade when I witnessed my first match. I was enthralled by the game-the deft and agile moves of the players provided a wonderful contrast to the grace with which the ball was passed, apparently effortlessly, from side to side. It was an elegant combination of power and beauty, and I was determined to master it.
For hours and hours together in the summer break, I practiced throwball with my sister, as we both tried to grasp the nuances of the game. Gradually, we began to see the improvement, as the number of times the ball made contact with the ground began to be dwarfed by the number of times we were able to catch it. In a short time, our backyard resounded with thuds as we tried out the various strategies over and over. By the end of the summer break, we had built ourselves into throwball players.
The next year, I participated in the trial round for the intra-school team. Though I had spent most of my summer practicing, I felt that my game was no match for the skill and the proficiency of some senior players. In light of this opinion of mine, I was understandably shell-shocked to learn that I had actually made it.
Unfortunately, the team I got into was a disheartened one, a consequence of its having lost the previous four tournaments in quick order. My teammates were disheartened and pessimistic; at our first practice session, they declared that there was no point in playing, since we were going to lose the house tournament at any rate. The team is cursed, they said, and that was all there was to the matter.
But I persisted. I tried to show them the beauty of the game that had touched my heart, so that they too would be inspired to play the game for its own sake, and not merely because of a desire to win. I came for practice sessions every day, and I insisted that at least two of my teammates joint me. My enthusiasm for the game slowly worked upon them, and within a week of the first session, we were playing three hours daily.
As the tournament drew close, we spent all our time practicing, despite the belittling comments made by the opponent teams. When the D- day dawned, we stood proudly on the field, united as a team in our love for the game. In our first match, we ripped apart our opponents, with our head-shattering blows and flamboyant gestures. Then we swept aside the next team and the next one too, and before we knew it, we were in the final round. Alas, it proved to be an ill-fated one, for it began in the afternoon heat, and with two heat-sensitive persons on our team (one being myself), we ended up losing by a tiny margin- 14-15, 14-15.
But that didn't dent our spirit. I, for one, was positively overjoyed with the outcome, since it meant that I would get to spend more time playing the game I love so much.
Since then I have acted on that passion thrice, as my team lifted the tournament cup the next three years. I have coached innumerable junior teams to victory in their tournaments. And I have spent many a happy hour on the field, attacking and being attacked by the big yellow ball. I am now determined to spread my passion for throwball wherever I go, so that more people can experience the joy of playing this thrilling game. Till then, the game continues.
Some of the possible topics mentioned are:
- Unusual circumstances in your life
- Travel or living experiences in other countries
- Books that have most affected you
- An academic experience (course, project, paper or research topic) that has meant the most to you
- A list of the books you have read during the past twelve months
I've chosen to write about a sport I play.
Please tell any alterations you feel are necessary.
Thanks in advance!
Let's Play Ball!
I crouched down low on the court, my entire body contracted in a state of tension, as the noon sun beat down upon my back, turning it into a pool of sweat. I strained my eyes past my teammates, past the gossamer-like ropes of the net, past the referee to see any movement from the players of the other team. And then I saw it- a jerking movement on the other side that propelled a massive yellow object above the net. A player in front caught it and flung it back with all her might.
The game was on. But this wasn't just any game of "catch-catch". It was a game of throwball.
Unless you are okay with a ball moving at a speed of 120 miles/hour being aimed at your face, throwball would turn out to be perhaps one of the most terrifying games you could encounter in school. The game involves the passage of a ball, intermediate in weight to a basketball and a volleyball, across a net about ten feet high, between two teams of seven. The rules, though simple to comprehend, are difficult to implement, and every team's Achilles Heel lies in the inability of its members to comply with the norms. Failure to follow the rules by a team results in the other one's being given a point. Games are played for a maximum of three sets, like in women's tennis, with each set being played for fifteen points.
The aim, therefore, is to garner the maximum number of points for one's team, and to achieve this purpose, players adopt a number of tactics that include throwing the ball at an extremely acute angle toward the ground (called a "dip"), throwing the ball with tremendous force at an opponent's face ("smash") and throwing the ball so gently that it just manages to reach the other side.
I was first drawn to throwball in eighth grade when I witnessed my first match. I was enthralled by the game-the deft and agile moves of the players provided a wonderful contrast to the grace with which the ball was passed, apparently effortlessly, from side to side. It was an elegant combination of power and beauty, and I was determined to master it.
For hours and hours together in the summer break, I practiced throwball with my sister, as we both tried to grasp the nuances of the game. Gradually, we began to see the improvement, as the number of times the ball made contact with the ground began to be dwarfed by the number of times we were able to catch it. In a short time, our backyard resounded with thuds as we tried out the various strategies over and over. By the end of the summer break, we had built ourselves into throwball players.
The next year, I participated in the trial round for the intra-school team. Though I had spent most of my summer practicing, I felt that my game was no match for the skill and the proficiency of some senior players. In light of this opinion of mine, I was understandably shell-shocked to learn that I had actually made it.
Unfortunately, the team I got into was a disheartened one, a consequence of its having lost the previous four tournaments in quick order. My teammates were disheartened and pessimistic; at our first practice session, they declared that there was no point in playing, since we were going to lose the house tournament at any rate. The team is cursed, they said, and that was all there was to the matter.
But I persisted. I tried to show them the beauty of the game that had touched my heart, so that they too would be inspired to play the game for its own sake, and not merely because of a desire to win. I came for practice sessions every day, and I insisted that at least two of my teammates joint me. My enthusiasm for the game slowly worked upon them, and within a week of the first session, we were playing three hours daily.
As the tournament drew close, we spent all our time practicing, despite the belittling comments made by the opponent teams. When the D- day dawned, we stood proudly on the field, united as a team in our love for the game. In our first match, we ripped apart our opponents, with our head-shattering blows and flamboyant gestures. Then we swept aside the next team and the next one too, and before we knew it, we were in the final round. Alas, it proved to be an ill-fated one, for it began in the afternoon heat, and with two heat-sensitive persons on our team (one being myself), we ended up losing by a tiny margin- 14-15, 14-15.
But that didn't dent our spirit. I, for one, was positively overjoyed with the outcome, since it meant that I would get to spend more time playing the game I love so much.
Since then I have acted on that passion thrice, as my team lifted the tournament cup the next three years. I have coached innumerable junior teams to victory in their tournaments. And I have spent many a happy hour on the field, attacking and being attacked by the big yellow ball. I am now determined to spread my passion for throwball wherever I go, so that more people can experience the joy of playing this thrilling game. Till then, the game continues.
