October 19-25: Memoir Post
For Easter every year my parents would buy my sisters and me one big gift, instead of buying us a bunch of candy that would eventually rot our teeth. This Easter, my parents decided to purchase our family a basketball hoop. I had never really play basketball, especially on a big hoop because I couldn’t have been more than five years old. I remember the first basket I tried to shoot, didn’t even get near the rim. It was a complete “air ball.” Although crushing my spirits a bit, I was determined to make a shot. I was going to eventually turn into a WNBA star. All I had to do was work at it, and I would succeed. Shooting a basketball was nothing like what I saw at the Augie games. They all made it look so simple. No matter what, I was going to become just as good as any of those college players my family watched every week. They might have some height and age on me, but they also have plenty of years of practice on me as well. I could practice more than them and be better than them. It just needed to start with making this one shot. Taking turns shooting, both of my sisters made a basket before me. I needed to make at least one shot that night. I needed to prove that there was a future ahead of me. After dark and several shots later, one ball finally slipped through the net. And although I didn’t turn out into a WNBA player, that one basket made me feel like I had acomplished something.
