Slam Dunk - Arjun Sahai
Five, four, three, two, one! As the red shot clock expired, this marked the end of the first regular season basketball game of my 8th grade year. At this point in my life, basketball was the most important part of my day, aside from the causal math problems, highly irritating history projects, and mundane reading assignments from my classes. While education is undoubtedly important, I was mesmerized by a different setting of academics. As a student of the game, each day was a new opportunity to learn from the highlights of the great players and expand myarsenal as an athlete to be the best basketball player I could be. Standing at a lanky height of 5 foot 8 and weighing in at a little too much, I was definitely not your textbook athlete. However, what I lacked in form, I made up in function during practices each day. With the biggest game of the season approaching, my effort and output in practice needed to be at an all-time high. Whether it was shooting over 50% from the field, playing from the three-point line to facilitate offensive flow and passing accuracy, or backing down defenders in the post, I was willing to perform wherever I could to prove to my peers that I belonged on this basketball court.
Our biggest game of the season was against Carmichael Middle School. Historically, this school was our rival, located just across the city of Richland, and was ranked #1 in our conference. Rumor of their outstanding skill had spread, and I knew we would have to work, as a team, to obtain a victory. The week leading up to the game was particularly brutal compared to others. Whether it was waking up extra early to workout at the gym or getting to practice thirty minutes early, a certain level of discipline was needed if I wanted my team to win. My coaches were very big advocates for running drills, especially if one was late to practice. Those who did not respect the game were fairly compensated with two hours of full sprints across the length of a full court. Yogaworkouts were another integral component of practices that my coaches insisted upon. Derived from the playbook ofthe legendary coach of the Chicago Bulls, Phil Jackson, these workouts were designed to develop muscularendurance and balance. If you ask me, however, these workouts were strictly formatted to have my body bend inways it should not. All the seemingly useless drills of running and yoga workouts seemed counterintuitive to my sharpshooter mentality, yet they made all the difference when we faced other teams on the court.
The day of the big game had finally come. It was a sunny Tuesday morning, but the beautiful weathercould not even distract myself from the paralyzing nerves I was experiencing. My insides felt as if they belonged onmy outsides and my knees felt very weak, like I had been on a hundred-mile backpacking trip through mountainousplains. As warm-ups began, I knew I would need to get into the proper mindset if I wanted to contribute to myteam’s success. We started practicing before the game and everything seemed to go wrong: bad passes, air balls, andsloppy drills. To add insult to injury, our home crowd began to lose faith in us and we headed to the bench before tip-off with our heads down. Our coach, a man of great wisdom with a notoriously loud voice, talked to us at asurprisingly low volume. He explained that if our team was even thinking of winning this game, we would need tocollaborate as a unit and utilize the
potential of everyone for the better of the team. A sudden rush of calmness and serenity came over my mental framework. I truly believed in the power of strength in numbers and felt lively as the spirits of my teammates had heightened. The world was ours for the taking and we were ready to battle under the bright lights.
After the starting five players were announced, we took our places on the court. Before I knew it, the ball was thrown up and the game had begun. Carmichael gained the tip and quickly and effectively scored a layup. Within fifteen minutes of play, we were down fifteen to five. Our shot at a perfect season flashed before my eyes. I looked indismay as I glanced at my teammates. With all the work we had put in during the weeks leading up to the game, it felt as if it had all been performed in futility. Their doubtful eyes paired with their lifeless posture made it seem as if all hope was lost. As half-time approached, our team sat on the bench, completely unsure as to what to do to turn this situation around. This was seemingly enough for our coach to resort to his usual self as he gave us a yell that could fill up the Staples Center. “Enough is enough,” I thought to myself. My body was in a pure adrenaline rush and I felt like I could feel the epinephrine coursing through my bloodstream.
By the third quarter, I was on a rampage and our game had improved. Our shots were perfect, and our energy picked up. With a rejuvenated spirit, our crowd began to cheer like never before. As the third quarter ended, our team scrambled along to the bench with high spirits. I knew what we were capable of and this was our game to win.The fourth quarter was upon us and the crowd began to simmer down to a deathly hush. It was as if we were walking the streets of a deserted city with no glimpse of civilization left. This silence did not deter us from the overall goal:send Carmichael Middle School back to where they came from. Shot after shot began to sink and our team went on to beat the Carmichael Cougars in the closing seconds of the game. It had been a hard-fought battle from the beginning to the end, but it did not deter our strength and focus. The crowd roared and our gym was the scene of pure chaos. Heading into the locker room, we had the biggest smiles on our faces. Our hearts were beating at the speed of light as sweat trickled down every one of our jerseys. As our team was composed of 8th graders, celebratory champagne was replaced with the sweet, yet tasteful delight of juice boxes.
Once the energetic rush had worn off, I began to ruminate on the game and each individual play while I waspacking my gym bag in the locker room. My mind was in a continuous frenzy as I thought about the changes I should have made and the shots I knew I could have knocked down. Nonetheless, I was proud of the performance from my teammates. It was a series of ups and downs throughout the whole game, with my team victoriously ending the battle. We had proven why we deserved to wear the red and black jerseys on our backs. At the end of the day, I was just an 8th grader exercising my passion for the sport I loved; however, my feeling of victory was synonymous with that of the great rulers of history such as Alexander the Great or Genghis Khan. I felt as if I had gone head-to-head with the opposing team’s players and had proved myself to be that of a winner, an achiever, and a fighter. Having the will to win in a state of loss or doubt is a lesson that I will carry with myself for years to come as that is the reason my first game was a slam dunk.
Our biggest game of the season was against Carmichael Middle School. Historically, this school was our rival, located just across the city of Richland, and was ranked #1 in our conference. Rumor of their outstanding skill had spread, and I knew we would have to work, as a team, to obtain a victory. The week leading up to the game was particularly brutal compared to others. Whether it was waking up extra early to workout at the gym or getting to practice thirty minutes early, a certain level of discipline was needed if I wanted my team to win. My coaches were very big advocates for running drills, especially if one was late to practice. Those who did not respect the game were fairly compensated with two hours of full sprints across the length of a full court. Yogaworkouts were another integral component of practices that my coaches insisted upon. Derived from the playbook ofthe legendary coach of the Chicago Bulls, Phil Jackson, these workouts were designed to develop muscularendurance and balance. If you ask me, however, these workouts were strictly formatted to have my body bend inways it should not. All the seemingly useless drills of running and yoga workouts seemed counterintuitive to my sharpshooter mentality, yet they made all the difference when we faced other teams on the court.
The day of the big game had finally come. It was a sunny Tuesday morning, but the beautiful weathercould not even distract myself from the paralyzing nerves I was experiencing. My insides felt as if they belonged onmy outsides and my knees felt very weak, like I had been on a hundred-mile backpacking trip through mountainousplains. As warm-ups began, I knew I would need to get into the proper mindset if I wanted to contribute to myteam’s success. We started practicing before the game and everything seemed to go wrong: bad passes, air balls, andsloppy drills. To add insult to injury, our home crowd began to lose faith in us and we headed to the bench before tip-off with our heads down. Our coach, a man of great wisdom with a notoriously loud voice, talked to us at asurprisingly low volume. He explained that if our team was even thinking of winning this game, we would need tocollaborate as a unit and utilize the
potential of everyone for the better of the team. A sudden rush of calmness and serenity came over my mental framework. I truly believed in the power of strength in numbers and felt lively as the spirits of my teammates had heightened. The world was ours for the taking and we were ready to battle under the bright lights.
After the starting five players were announced, we took our places on the court. Before I knew it, the ball was thrown up and the game had begun. Carmichael gained the tip and quickly and effectively scored a layup. Within fifteen minutes of play, we were down fifteen to five. Our shot at a perfect season flashed before my eyes. I looked indismay as I glanced at my teammates. With all the work we had put in during the weeks leading up to the game, it felt as if it had all been performed in futility. Their doubtful eyes paired with their lifeless posture made it seem as if all hope was lost. As half-time approached, our team sat on the bench, completely unsure as to what to do to turn this situation around. This was seemingly enough for our coach to resort to his usual self as he gave us a yell that could fill up the Staples Center. “Enough is enough,” I thought to myself. My body was in a pure adrenaline rush and I felt like I could feel the epinephrine coursing through my bloodstream.
By the third quarter, I was on a rampage and our game had improved. Our shots were perfect, and our energy picked up. With a rejuvenated spirit, our crowd began to cheer like never before. As the third quarter ended, our team scrambled along to the bench with high spirits. I knew what we were capable of and this was our game to win.The fourth quarter was upon us and the crowd began to simmer down to a deathly hush. It was as if we were walking the streets of a deserted city with no glimpse of civilization left. This silence did not deter us from the overall goal:send Carmichael Middle School back to where they came from. Shot after shot began to sink and our team went on to beat the Carmichael Cougars in the closing seconds of the game. It had been a hard-fought battle from the beginning to the end, but it did not deter our strength and focus. The crowd roared and our gym was the scene of pure chaos. Heading into the locker room, we had the biggest smiles on our faces. Our hearts were beating at the speed of light as sweat trickled down every one of our jerseys. As our team was composed of 8th graders, celebratory champagne was replaced with the sweet, yet tasteful delight of juice boxes.
Once the energetic rush had worn off, I began to ruminate on the game and each individual play while I waspacking my gym bag in the locker room. My mind was in a continuous frenzy as I thought about the changes I should have made and the shots I knew I could have knocked down. Nonetheless, I was proud of the performance from my teammates. It was a series of ups and downs throughout the whole game, with my team victoriously ending the battle. We had proven why we deserved to wear the red and black jerseys on our backs. At the end of the day, I was just an 8th grader exercising my passion for the sport I loved; however, my feeling of victory was synonymous with that of the great rulers of history such as Alexander the Great or Genghis Khan. I felt as if I had gone head-to-head with the opposing team’s players and had proved myself to be that of a winner, an achiever, and a fighter. Having the will to win in a state of loss or doubt is a lesson that I will carry with myself for years to come as that is the reason my first game was a slam dunk.