Descriptive Writing Basketball

The scent of popcorn wafts over the peeling red walls of the ancient gym. Fluorescent lights blind me as I turn to glance over at the creaky old bleachers. The shuffles and murmurs of parents fill the sticky air while they come in. Clad in itchy mesh jerseys that boasted a large spur on the front hung over the equally uncomfortable shorts that resembled the jet black of my jersey, I block out the cheers of the crowd while attempting to perfect my form. Swish! The basketball floats through the air, gliding perfectly, hurdling through the air into the net. The referee blows the whistle. It’s time. The loud cheers of the crowd fill the old gym as the rough leather ball flies into my hand. A stampede of the other team sprints at me. Hands fumbling
My leg continued to sting as Anna led me back into the gym. I peer up to see that the score was tied at 49-49. I hobble over to the bench; I glare over at the only girl on the bench. My team was short players, and my teammate looked like she had just ran a marathon.
“CRAIL IN NOW!”, my coach screeches at me through the excited crowd.
I fight through the pain and hobble over to the court. The ball is thrown in. The clock only has 10 seconds left. It was time to give it my all.
“DEFENSE! DEFENSE! DEFENSE!”, the crowd
7,6,5,… The ball whizzes through the air. It flies through the air as I realise what’s going on. I turn to find the world in slow motion. The person who was guarding me had spun around to run to the post. 4,3,2… something hit me. The crowd stopped. I find myself on the floor. A girl from the other team smiles at me, and I figure out what rock had hit me. The tweet of the whistle blocks out my thoughts of pain. The referee throws up his hand that signals a foul shot. Knowing I can’t shoot free throws well, my coach sighs. Thoughts of doubt cross my mind. The rough bumps of the basketball go through my hands when the referee passes me the ball. The crowd falls silent. I line my hands up into my shot. My leg starts to throb horribly. Knowing the whole game relied on me I had to make this shot. Doubt consumed me. No matter how often I practiced, how many shots I took, I could never consistently make a free throw, especially under pressure. My knees bend. I wince. Without thinking, the ball flies from my hands. The ball soars through the air, and it goes in! The roar of approval consumes me with happiness, and I turn to see everyone cheering. The feeling of relief washes through me. I did it! The thought registered through my mind. I did it; through all the pain and fear. My doubts faded away and a grin spread across my face from ear to