Narrative Essay On Netball

The screaming cheers from the girls on my team drowned out those from the stands, making it seem as if there was no one on the field but us. The lights were blindingly bright, shining down on the field from every direction, causing shadows to of the players to multiply around them. My coach paced back and forth, screaming orders and directions, while my teammates panted their lungs out. Just standing on the sidelines was like a breath of fresh air.

An active lifestyle was enthusiastically encouraged by my parents for their three boys to support not only physical activity and growth, but a competitive spirit, and a sense of belonging with peers from my school and the community. Through hard work and practice I played at the top level for every sport that I tried out for. What I lacked in size I made up for with heart, hustle, and passion. Consequently, my personal compensation was the pride I earned through hours of practice to develop the skills needed to perform at the highest level.

My second time losing (in the second season) was actually the softball finals. I was torn when it all happened and it was a really interesting story how I lost. It was all after school when we had played softball for at least two hours and all we had was five points, FIVE POINTS!

The air was cold and eerie as my teammates and I got ready to take the field for baseball practice. Our coach called for a night practice in the middle of September following our devastating loss in the championship game a few weeks ago. “Let’s go! Start running laps around the field!” my coach shouted as players were still getting dressed and warming up. Most of my teammates still shattered by the championship loss weren’t feeling enthusiastic about practicing. We finished running our laps and moved on to the next portion of our practice which was long tossing. I wasn’t aware that such a routine practice would be the one to change my life.

I’ve played softball my entire life. I’ve also been hurt countless times while playing softball. From getting hit with pitches to having a serious asthma attack. But there is one injury I had in particular that stuck with me, it wasn’t too long ago, the summer before I went into my freshman year. I remember everything, it was the first game of the league softball tournament.

Middle school is a time when kids attempt to figure out how they fit in, and that is exactly what I was looking to do when I started playing volleyball. I was in seventh grade when I decided to try out, and it was only because my best friend was playing. Little did I know just how organized and complex the game was; I just assumed volleyball was a more intense version of “don’t let the balloon touch the ground.” I never thought that I would become so passionate about this sport that it would have an impact on my character.

Some people just think softball is as simple as someone swinging a stick, hitting a ball, and trying to get back to where they started. They don’t see what softball really means to someone like me. Someone who has dedicated their life just to be able to play on that field at a certain level. Someone who wants to go to college and play the sport that they love. Well, I play softball because of the love I have for the sport.

Tryouts ended the day before and now we were waiting in line for cuts to see if we made the field hockey team.We were waiting in the halls of the school as each person went into a classroom one by one to see if we made it.

As the hot sun beat down on all of our determined faces, we ran onto the heat-absorbing turf. Sweat was dripping down our entire bodies, and nerves sank into our bodies just to reside there for the whole day.

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.

“Not everyone is going to see or accept you for who you are, and you have to accept that.” I was told this quote everyday by my mother. Today was no different, walking up to the raked field, quote on my mind , eyes on the fresh red clay, and the sound of my metal cleats against the concrete. I was ready for this day. After months of hard work from November to February , the tryouts for Central softball team were over. Over the span of four months, I pushed myself harder than I ever thought I could, but what I did never seemed to be enough for the team.

“Oh no, please don’t tell me this is happening. Mom, can I just skip this tournament?” I pleaded, “There is absolutely no hope for me.” Being the dramatic person I am, I lamented the imminent end of my tennis career. I went into the tournament with an expectation of failure. I started the match by accidentally whacking the ball over the fence, tripping on my own feet rushing to end the point. The little confidence I had when going into the match dissipated within a few minutes. I continued the match pondering how to angle my racket to put spin on the ball. Every time I failed, I blamed it on the high skill level of my opponent. Unsurprisingly, I lost in an hour. When looking back on that match, I realized that it could have gone differently had I not brought myself down before. My lack of

I first started playing volleyball at a very young age. I was in the seventh grade when my volleyball career started. My sister started playing in the seventh grade and I just wanted to follow her footsteps. My seventh grade year was ok because I had just started out and really didn’t know the game. There was A team and a B team, where A team was better than the B team. I tried my best to be on the A-team, but guess where I ended up, on the B team.

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.

A major role in my life would definitely be sports. It is almost as if I look up to sports because I could not live without them. Sports pretty much define me as me. I love to play sports as well as watch all kinds of sports on T.V. and if I could ever go to a game and watch the players play live I would be thrilled. Basically sports define me because I am ambitious, I finish what I start, I set goals for myself, and I am a fierce competitor in which I love to win and I hate to lose. The greatest part about sports to me is living for the moment when the game is on the line and the pressure is on can you come through and make a play for your