Night of glory on the basketball court


As I mentioned before, “D” and I spent a lot of time during the fall semester of junior year meeting up to play basketball. I also continued with my running routine.

To celebrate “D’s” birthday, he gathered 10 friends together to play basketball in the coliseum where our school team played. It was the closest I’d get to playing for college. It was a big court and completely intimidating to walk on that court. While it wasn’t filled with spectators, I was amazed to find that all those empty seats eventually faded into the background and it became like playing on any other court.

I was the only female. It was cool to have a chance to play with the guys. Before we got started, though, I’m sure some of them wondered what I was doing there. Possibly thinking I was intruding on their boys’ night.

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The eighth grade steal

When I described some of my experiences of playing basketball in public school (find that here), I described a moment when I made a steal. I wasn’t sure if it had been during seventh or eighth grade, but as I reread my eighth grade journal I discovered an entry. Here, in all of its glory, is my rendition of what happened.

I’ve never been one to describe myself as a great storyteller. Mostly as a matter of struggling to figure out what details to include and what to leave out, not having that natural sense of how to dramatize a moment verbally. But it’s a different kind of thing when writing it out. I can write out what I want, rather than trying to gauge how a story is being received in the moment, attempting to make spontaneous adjustments.

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