Personal Narrative Essay: My First Football Game

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The humming buzz of the crowd fills the arena, but I hear nothing. The only thing on my mind is to get ready for the “important” game coming up right after this one. My coach thought if I played the first part of the junior varsity basketball game, I would be better prepared for the varsity game to follow—the game that really counted; I agreed. I thought to myself, “I’ll play a quarter or two, get used to the hoops and court, then rest and prepare.” The game started, and as a starting varsity player, I was expected to dominate the JV game. I strutted up and down the court like I was invincible. I was bigger, stronger, and faster than the JV kids. That night, I couldn’t be stopped by anyone and I was assured of success. Little did I know what would happen in the following minutes.
As I leapt casually to lay the ball into the basket, a wet mixture of sweaty, scratchy fabric from my opponent’s jersey rubbed against my face. I cringed as I got a whiff of the guy. I was fairly certain he hadn’t showered in a while. Feeling dominant, I lunged to drop the ball into the net. I was overly confident and too loose; like one if those wiggly blow-up people you see outside of car dealerships. But, this unconstrained arrogance quickly led to my
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According to my coach, I had that potential. However, at that particular time, I wasn’t looking at the “big picture.” Rather, all I cared about was myself, and how tired I felt from the pressure to perform at such a high level of expectation, both on the court and off. Don’t get me wrong; my high school experience had a lot of “highs” in it. There were top athletic achievements, fun experiences with awesome friends, and even a lot of cute girls, too. But despite all that, I was unhappy. I felt an overwhelming sense of self-righteous pity and I blamed it on athletics, be it football or

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