Narrative About Basketball

For this discussion, I will review the media program then explain the human services professional (HSP) is ethical conflict that is surfacing. Secondly, I will disclose how I would handle this ethical conflict as a HSP. Finally, I identify a code of ethics to justify my opinion.

We reminded each other that we needed to just have fun and relax on the court. The nerves kicked in for me once we arrived at McCormick Place. My stomach was twisting and my legs went weak. Tall escalators carried us up to the level that the courts were on. We were welcomed by a sign that said, “Welcome to the 2017 Nike Tournament of Champions.” I was shocked walking through the large doors that led to the courts. All I could see were courts upon courts. It felt like we walked forever to get to our court. As I was lacing up my shoes, all I could think about was all of the hard and long practices that had led up to this. I didn’t work hard for nothing. I realized that I was only a freshman and still had a long ways to go. Most of the nerves came out after the first game. We played three games that day with college coaches watching all of them. The lumps were in my throat and it felt like my heart sank to my stomach. I have never had college coaches watching games that I was playing in. After each game I reflected back on how I played and told myself what I needed to work on and do better at. I have never played against girls that were so good at basketball. Some of the teams had tall girls that hovered over all of us. Not all of the games went as we had planned, but we played well as a team.

I walked into school to be greeted by a janitor vacuuming the floors. It was time to start thinking about the game and getting my focus level up. My pregame ritual wasn’t always the same beside for one thing, be the first to the locker room to have time to think to myself. Walking into the light blue and worn-down locker room it was almost like I could feel the emotion from all the players who had been there before myself. I was greeted by a wave of smell, the smell of victory, defeat, and pure hard work. It was quite musty but I was used to it and had grown accustomed to it. I sat myself down and began to think about how I would perform tonight and what I had to do in order to be victorious. I pictured myself going out onto the court and seeing all the fans packed into our old wooden bleachers. All I wanted to do was make them proud of the team they came to watch. I looked out the window to see the vehicles of my fellow teammates driving into our dirt parking lot. Soon, the locker room would no longer be quite and it would be filled with the shrieks, laughs, and giggles of my

It all began on November 3, 2015 during my first middle school basketball tournament. The grey brick walls of the gymnasium looking more like a prison than a school. The school’s “Lincoln Park Elementary School” sign had graffiti and missed a couple letters from the name. The court was terribly small, but we began by playing the superb team of Jam on It. We were blown out and I headed back up to my mom and dad in the parent filled stands. The game wasn’t even fun to play and we looked like third graders playing them. I looked up to my parents as sad as could be.

I threw the ball up high in the air, but missed the basketball hoop. “Try it like this, “My brother said, He tucked his arm and with both hands, he threw it right into the basketball hoop. “Here try it again like I showed you,” My brother said in a cheering voice. Once again, I tried how my brother showed me. “I made it!!” I yelled out I was so happy and excited, but most importantly, I knew from that moment on basketball was something I was going to love.

Basketball became a place where I could exhibit my talent and it has been so for the past 7 years. Each time I play a match, I set a target for myself to be the top scorer of that game. I only settled for the best. The feeling of a 3 point shot swishing into the net and blocking a shot from my opponent left me feeling immensely satisfied and cool.

The summer before seventh grade my mom and I were talking about school and what sports I was going to play. I knew that I was definitely be playing basketball, but my mom kept bringing up cross-country. She said she thought that I should try it because I have long legs, which is good for running. I always thought running sounded boring because all you do is move one foot in front of another. I decided to still try it because of my mom and because for all I knew it could be something I really enjoy. I didn’t enjoy much then, I didn’t have many hobbies. I did like art, but not that much, I only did it when I was really bored. I loved basketball, but even I knew I was completely horrible at that. No other sports really appealed to me and that is why I was going to give running a chance, because I was desperate for a hobby.

We are going to do whatever it takes to win. My knee was aching something serious, but I wasn't going to tell the trainer because she'd keep me out of the game. We took our positions for the jump ball and I was our jumper of course. I jumped off my good leg, but I still landed with a sting in my right. Off we went like a herd of bulls running down the court. This game wasn't going to be easy by any means. Both my team and the opposing team was knocking down shots left and right. I wasn't concerned with my knee anymore because my adrenaline was pumping. We had got most of our points from fast breaks and turnovers. I was starting to become winded, my ribs felt like they were going to close in and my mouth was so dry that my tongue stuck to the roof of it. I signaled for my sub and waited for someone to come relieve me. I continued to cheer on my teammates from the bench and watched them fight

I love tuning into a game on a Tuesday night, in the middle of an incredible stretch of games, to see if a player or team can keep playing at that level. It makes the dog days of January so much better.

If there’s any lone reason I play basketball I would word it as, “One game of basketball can teach a young man lessons that will help him branch out into the world”. Each quarter of basketball teaches different skills.

Many people say, “it's just a sport,” but to me basketball is much more than that. I started playing at 5 years old. My father played college basketball, so, naturally, he pushed me to play. He says I have a natural talent for the game. At times I didn't believe him, but now I do. I am very grateful he pushed me to play because basketball has taught me an extremely valuable lesson.

Wenyen enrolled in Manchester elementary schools when he was 5, and then enrolled in …. middle school when he was 11, and in his first week of school, is when he first picked up a basketball. After school one day, Wenyen was walking in the hallways of his new school, when he heard a lot of commotion coming from the gym. He decided to see what was going on because he had nothing better to do. When He opened the door, he noticed a bunch of kids fighting about how the teams wasn’t fair for the next pickup basketball game. One of the captains spotted Wenyen standing near the door, and was excited to see that he was a little taller than all of the kids that was playing, so the captain figured that it wouldn’t matter if his team is awful, if he had this tall African on his team. The captain screamed to Wenyen, “ Do you wanna play?”, and before Wenyen had a chances to say no, the captain follow up with, “ Hurry up, you are

Basketball seems to get into your blood. It is said by those who play, "You eat, you sleep and you play basketball." When I was a little girl all I wanted to be was a professional basketball player. I couldn't count how many times I pounded that dumb ball in our driveway until it was too dark to see, then I would play for hours more by the porch light. Now I realize that was only childish insanity. Back then they didn’t even have a girls’ profession basketball league in the states. However, that didn't stop me from walking away empty handed. One thing I learned was how to prepare oneself for life. Well, at least, how to prepare oneself for a game.

When I lace up my shoes and step foot onto the court -- all of life’s problems and struggles just vanish, never coming to mind while playing on the hardwood. Nothing can stop me; because I am in my territory, my sanctuary. The game and the court; they are my canvas, and I am Picasso, the game is an art and every time I step into the gym are efforts to create a masterpiece. I feel as if I am in complete control, like a maestro conducting his symphony and everything I do is nothing but sweet music with the perfect melody and flow. Every move I make, every decision I make, every shot I take is vital to the performance of my team -- with nothing less than a hundred percent effort in mind. I feel as free as bird, soaring through the open air, flying for the first time in the clouds, free. The game and the sound of the ball dribbling take away all the negativity I may be experiencing and immediately replace it with optimism, leaving me in a state of complete serenity. Whenever I feel down I just pick up a ball and head to the gym and my attitude is shifted to a sense of relief and joy. Having the blessed opportunity to play basketball has truly impacted the individual who I am

Winter had come, it was starting to be frozen outside every morning, basketball season was upon us. Was the greatest moment of the year, and was time to lay it all out on the line. The starting position was up in the air, between me and a sophomore. Since I had such a passion for the game, every day was like paradise. Practices were basic, you had your typical start of practice drills here and there and then to the more complex details: the plays, the sets, then after that you went full court 5 on 5 for some live scrimmaging. There were times where it was brutal, but then there was also joking times where we could run through the motions. But through all of the struggling and fighting throughout the season, it all payed off.