Personal Narrative: My Love Of Basketball
It does not take much to decide a sport will be loved for the rest of this life. It is the first time you hear it go through the net, as if a wind was coming through, or the first time you hear the crack of the bat. There is always that one thing that clicks in the brain to know this thing is special. Being given a basketball was all it took for me to know that I had found real love and a best friend. The ball was brand new, just out of the box. It was orange and smelled like a factory of rubber. The ball was give to me for Christmas when all I wanted was to shoot crumpled up pieces of paper into a trashcan. The wrapping paper was unique with basketballs and pink bows covering every inch. The first rip of the paper and it was certain a new love had been found. It traveled to
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I decided to take my ball and go find competition to compete with me. We were outside until all that was left was the subtle glow of streetlights. I went home and lay my ball beside my bed knowing that I could take on anything. Next thing you know I was playing in the biggest gym I could have ever imagined to step foot in. The lights were so bright I almost tripped because I could not see. I carried my ball in with me ready to practice for the state regional tournament. I shot the ball that was once so perfect but now was ragged from years of use and play. I was nervous with sweaty palms and shaky legs. That was the last time I got to warm up with my childhood friend. All good things must end but me and the sport would not. My ball and I still practice every day. That ball is the one thing reminds me of all the good things that happen. With every dribble, pass, and shot my life comes through. Although I will eventually put down my ball and not pick it up every time I look at it, it will remind me of all the things I have done
I decided to take my ball and go find competition to compete with me. We were outside until all that was left was the subtle glow of streetlights. I went home and lay my ball beside my bed knowing that I could take on anything. Next thing you know I was playing in the biggest gym I could have ever imagined to step foot in. The lights were so bright I almost tripped because I could not see. I carried my ball in with me ready to practice for the state regional tournament. I shot the ball that was once so perfect but now was ragged from years of use and play. I was nervous with sweaty palms and shaky legs. That was the last time I got to warm up with my childhood friend. All good things must end but me and the sport would not. My ball and I still practice every day. That ball is the one thing reminds me of all the good things that happen. With every dribble, pass, and shot my life comes through. Although I will eventually put down my ball and not pick it up every time I look at it, it will remind me of all the things I have done