Personal Narrative: My First High School Basketball Team

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Sweat danced down my face, yet there was no fear within me. My legs were tired and my heart was gasping for air. I used to love this feeling. Nervous, yet so in control. I was eager to get some points and contribute to my team. It was my first high school varsity game. It was also my first year of high school.
I had been one of two freshmen to make the basketball team and after three weeks of practice, it was finally our first game. It was only a scrimmage game so the game didn’t count for our record. Nevertheless, when Coach was walking up and down the bench I couldn’t help,but repeat to myself-
It’s only a scrimmage…
It’s only a scrimmage…
It’s only a scrimmage…
This was an attempt to devalue the game, but seemingly the game began to scare …show more content…
It was perfect. I loved his passes. They always carried a round of finesse and never lacked a helpful backspin. I was on the block and defender was just a step behind me. A step that always fashioned him recovering the settling ball after it had tunneled through the hoop. Knowing that one step was not a lot I quickly adjusted the ball and went up giving myself some air-room to operate. Time literally slowed down and I threw the shot up. I felt the defender push my back on my descent: it was soft yet firm enough. The ref called the foul. I looked up at the shot to see that is was on the brink of either falling in or dropping meaninglessly. I concentrated on it hoping I could just nudge it in. It did nudge, but not the direction I had intended. How did I miss the layup? It was okay I insisted. I had two free throws now. This was a shot I was pretty good at. So I stepped up to the line and glanced at the ref. I took a breath and closed my eyes for a second. Really, how did I miss the layup? I sighed. My five senses felt enhanced. The beads of sweat dancing down my face irritating me. My legs felt weak and my heart was up to my throat. The ref checked me the ball. The ball almost went right through my hands, but I managed to get three fingers on it. Frowning, I rubbed my sweaty hands on my shorts. How did I miss the layup? I set my feet and let the shot go. I knew it was off the second it left my hands. It was
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