<p>Hi, thank you for my essay. Please criticize my essay and suggest points of improvement. Thank you again!! This is the 2nd personal statement for UC.</p>
<pre><code>The alarm clock jolts me awake 6am on a Saturday morning for the first time. Groggy and puffy-eyed, I quickly get ready for the first of many early morning badminton training sessions. Neither the early time nor my state of mind deters me from quitting morning training, however. I know very well that work in equals work out. All the effort I pour into the grueling training, will pay off tenfold during badminton matches. With that mindset locked in, I dragged myself out of bed and 15 minutes later, I was out the door: thermal bag in one hand, a protein shake in the other, and ready to train with the team.
As I made the ascension from intermediate to advanced training, one glaring difference I noticed between the two levels are the developments in the shots. In advanced training, most of the players maintained a powerful and accurate contact with the shuttlecock, whereas the intermediate players would intermittently contact the shuttlecock on the racket’s sweet spot. There was one shot in particular that I had trouble mastering: of course, the elusive and hard to train back hand clear. The lack of an adept backhand caused my teammates to look down upon me. A mastery of the backhand is the hallmark of a mature and experienced badminton player. During practice rallies, my opponents would purposely execute a perfect backhand just to rub it in. In fact, many of my opponents in rallies, from other clubs and schools, all had well developed backhands. I was suggested on many occasions by my teammates to downgrade back to intermediate training, but, determined to better my skills for future matches, I continued to attend the advanced morning training.
Anxious to patch my downfalls, I began to study the backhands of famous badminton players from Youtube clips: Taufik’s famous backhand smash, Lin Dan’s powerful backhand clear, Peter Gade’s masterful backhand drops, the list goes on. Additionally, I started to simulate the backhand wrist flick everywhere I went. I was determined to ingrain the backhand arm motion into muscle memory, so the next time Saturday rolled around, I would be better, no matter how marginally, at the backhand At home I threw my right arm over my shoulder and protenate my wrist in the backhand clear motion. When brushing my teeth, I looked into the mirror at all imaginable angles and performed the backhand in slow motion, making sure every motion from the starting elbow jut to the ending wrist flick exactly mimicked those of the professional players. Mom often commented on my ridiculous display of arm flailing she would catch me performing around the house. When walking the dog, I practiced the same wrist flick but less conspicuously as to not attract attention from the public. When passing my badminton buddy in the school’s quad, I greeted him with a swift backhand, and he shot me his own backhand in acknowledgement. The backhand subconsciously dominated my life for the next few months.
Slowly and steadily, my backhand began improving. What was once a shot that I could only hit to the mid court with my backhand, I could now hit it to the first baseline. Another months comes around and what was once a first baseline shot, I could now clear it to the second baseline. As my performance plateaued, I grew confident in my backhand. Finally, I was ready to show it off to my teammates and coaches.
During a scrimmage with a rival team, I played a singles match against one of their players. The first 16 points came and went, with neither of using holding a steadfast lead. On the other hand, the last 5 points could have constituted an entirely different game. Both my opponent and I grew desperate as the score encroached into the 20s. We scrambled across the court in a mad dash to get to the shuttlecock before it hit the floor. Half an hour into the game, I led at 20 points while my opponent trailed at 18. I lifted the the shuttlecock from the front center of my court to the back right of my opponent’s court, causing him to counter with a backhand clear. I readied myself in mid court, and rehearsed the backhand motion over and over in my mind: elbow jut, arm swing, wrist flick, elbow jut, arm swing, wrist flick. I knew the next shot I executed was going to be a backhand. As the shuttlecock soared across the net, I returned my opponent’s clear with my own backhand smash, it barely grazed the net and hit my opponent’s floor in the front right court. Game. My team ran onto the court and hi fived me, some of them for the first time. I genuinely felt that I am part of the team.
The whole advanced training has been an eye-opening experience. Not only did I mature as a badminton player, I matured as a person. I learned, through firsthand experience, that limits, like fears, are often just illusions. By pouring my heart and soul into the sport, I conquered the fear that I did not belong in advanced training. When stepping into the face of adversity, hold your ground and brave the storm, because nobody can tell you that you can’t.
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