8th Grade Basketball
It was a very hot day. The blacktop was scorched with heat as my feet started to burn because it was so hot. Ms. Sandoval wanted me and another person to pick the last two names out of the hat. He was on the team too. My hands were shaking, trembling with fear and anxiety. I stared at the thin pieces of paper inside the fedora. I knew I had to pick an 8 to pick myself. The other kid who was trying to get on the team was standing beside me. He picks one of the pieces of paper. His nervous expression changed in an instant when he picked himself. That made me even more nervous. I looked at the last 3 slim pieces of paper. I knew I had 1 in 3 odds, about a 33 percent chance. I saw one that looked like an 8, and I picked it up. Fail. It was a 3 instead. But a 3 almost looks similar to an 8 if it was closed. Well, I tried my best. I was pissed that this was all because of chance. It wasn’t fair. This was BS. I tried to hide my emotions. The overwhelming selfishness of wanting to be able to do more consumed me.
Thinking of basketball triggered one of my favorite memories. Earlier this year, we were …show more content…
This was gonna make them play better. The only people who actually really deserved to be on the team were Deion and Nason. So the game starts. The students score first, but then the teachers bounce back with 10 straight points. My friend Finn and I were watching the game along the side of the court. We already knew that this was going to be a bloodbath. Deion and Nason may be the best players at the school, but they’re not good enough to do all the work and carry their team to victory. Some of the teachers are taller than 6 foot. The game only happens once a year, and you have to be in 8th grade to play. The students weren’t doing a good job of representing themselves. It was
It was a very hot day. The blacktop was scorched with heat as my feet started to burn because it was so hot. Ms. Sandoval wanted me and another person to pick the last two names out of the hat. He was on the team too. My hands were shaking, trembling with fear and anxiety. I stared at the thin pieces of paper inside the fedora. I knew I had to pick an 8 to pick myself. The other kid who was trying to get on the team was standing beside me. He picks one of the pieces of paper. His nervous expression changed in an instant when he picked himself. That made me even more nervous. I looked at the last 3 slim pieces of paper. I knew I had 1 in 3 odds, about a 33 percent chance. I saw one that looked like an 8, and I picked it up. Fail. It was a 3 instead. But a 3 almost looks similar to an 8 if it was closed. Well, I tried my best. I was pissed that this was all because of chance. It wasn’t fair. This was BS. I tried to hide my emotions. The overwhelming selfishness of wanting to be able to do more consumed me.
Thinking of basketball triggered one of my favorite memories. Earlier this year, we were …show more content…
This was gonna make them play better. The only people who actually really deserved to be on the team were Deion and Nason. So the game starts. The students score first, but then the teachers bounce back with 10 straight points. My friend Finn and I were watching the game along the side of the court. We already knew that this was going to be a bloodbath. Deion and Nason may be the best players at the school, but they’re not good enough to do all the work and carry their team to victory. Some of the teachers are taller than 6 foot. The game only happens once a year, and you have to be in 8th grade to play. The students weren’t doing a good job of representing themselves. It was