Journey Into a Life of Basketball


I made it, I finally made it. After hours and hours of practice, I had finally made it. It was seventh grade when I first started to find an interest in basketball. Despite it being a new passion, once I started, it felt like I finally found who I was supposed to be. From then on, I played basketball whenever given the chance, dribbling in the backyard when I did not have a court to go to. However, despite the vigorous amount of practice I submitted myself to, I still could not make any points when I played. But that all changed when I made my first shot. I remember feeling, the power in my legs, the tingly sensation of the ball as it rolled off my fingers, and the many hands blocking my view. It was a moment, which I will never forget.

It was the eleventh basketball game I had ever played, the one where I finally scored my first point. I crossed the half court line, when suddenly my teammate passed the ball perfectly, cupping into my palm. I dribbled slowly, scanning the area as my defender took a step forward. I was shaking; whether it was from excitement or fear, I did not know. All I knew was my defender stepped too far forward. Without a second for him to adjust, I drove in and pushed off every step strongly, as if I would never get to drive again. After two hard strides, I passed my defender and saw an open lane. As I continued to drive in, I saw the awestruck faces. Without any reason to slow down, I continued driving till I passed the free throw line and started my final two steps. As soon as I took my first step, I tightly placed my left hand on the ball securing it in place. Quickly two defenders approach me, I was surrounded, there was nothing I could do but go up and that is what I did, as soon as my left foot hit the ground, I jumped. When I rose into the air, time seemed to slow down, I could see every hand rising to block me, every spec of dust lingering on the backboard and every eye on me. In a split second, I was half a foot away from the rim. I knew if I did not put it in now then I would never get the chance again. So without a moment to waste, I quickly brought up the ball into my right hand and rolled it gently across all of my fingers. It felt perfect. The ball left my hand. Everything became silent and nothing seemed important in the moment. Nothing, but the ball going into the basket. My eyes stayed positioned onto the ball and as it slowly fell into the hoop, only one thing was going through my mind, “I made it.” The shot I never foresaw going in made it. That has and will always be my of my most memorable experiences.