essay any good?

Franchise1
Fri, 23 Sep 2005 01:18:15 +0000

Everyday, during fifth period, there is only one thing on my mind, and that is volleyball. As I sit there in Spanish class, Mr. Brown’s words enter my left ear and leak out my right. Mr. Brown scratching his shiny, bald head is the only thing that distracts me from my thoughts, but that is only because his perfectly rounded head reminds me of the perfectly rounded volleyball. My butt grows uncomfortable, and I begin to shift around in my seat. Every tick of the clock is irritating yet pleasing at the same time, for I am now seconds closer to sixth period.
I am recollecting and mentally reliving last year’s volleyball season. I am trying to remember as accurately as possible what happened at a specific game or at a specific practice. Then, last year’s game against St. John Bosco hits me. My team played nine games that day before entering the finals and playing St. John Bosco. We won all nine. It was the most amazing feeling because we had, for all nine games, played our best. No matter how many times the other team scored on us, we kept our chins high and continued to play our hardest. No matter how wet the floor was from the sweat that rolled off our bodies, we continued to play our hardest. No matter how much my fingers hurt from setting the ball at least forty times a game, I continued to play my hardest. My teammates and I struck back with even deeper hits, harder serves, and solider passes. This was the reason for the amazing feeling I felt.
When the game with St. John Bosco started, my teammates and I were confident that we were going to win. We had a great start. As the setter, I served first, and the first five balls I served were aces. The feeling was beautiful, for once the ball contacted my palm and left it, I knew we had won the round. Our team united like it never did before. Plays were almost conducted silently; there was no need to call them because for those twenty minutes, my teammates and I existed as one. Ryan Scott and Ben Yu, our two top players, scored monstrously, for that was what they hit – “monster balls.” In one round though, our fortune changed. St. John Bosco exhibited not only teamwork, but also experience, which caused us to eventually lose our grasp of victory.
The bell rings, and I snap out of the flashback. Yet, one thought is still stuck in my mind, and that is of why we didn’t regret losing that game that day. As our coach got onto the bus that day after the game, she said that was how volleyball should be played. She didn’t mean playing a hard nine games and then finally losing the tournament; she meant the teamwork and effort my team showed her that day, and she was right. Volleyball is not a game played to win. It is a game of competition, which in turn drives its players to not only play as vigorous players, but also play as a unit. Even though my team lost that game that day, it tried its best, and if that is its limit, so be it. This aspect of volleyball is what I look forward to everyday during Spanish class. The knowledge alone that I am apart of such a powerful entity is a gift, but the fact that the bell ending fifth period sounds once a day for me to practice playing with this entity is a blessing.