"Personal narrative essay about basketball" Essays and Research Papers

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    One of the best days of my life‚was when I was seven years old and I walk through the front door and notice a small brown little puppy with big droopy ears sound asleep in a little basket. I grew ecstatic each second that went by‚but was also very nervous since this was the first time ever owning a dog. I still remember till this day how my brothers and I would argue‚ on what we were going to name our little pup. Our little beagle was light brown all over‚except all four of his paws were white. My

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    Write an essay on basketball history and how the game has changed over time. Basketball was invented in December 1891 and it first played with a soccer ball. Each team had nine players and the baskets were wooden peached ones hung up on walls. Double dribbling was allowed and after every score there would be a center jump line. The ball could be thrown in any direction by both hands. The ball could also be batted in any direction with one or both hands but never the fists. A player could not

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    Shauna avoided Cort on Friday when she spent the day shopping with her mother. She avoided him on Saturday when the McCabe family got together to tromp through the woods in search of the perfect Christmas trees. Sunday was a different story. "Hello‚ Shauna‚ nice to see you again‚" Cort said when he walked into the parlor where Shauna was expertly weaving a burgundy and gold ribbon through the branches of the twelve-foot Frasier fir Susan had chosen. "Mr. Mackenzie‚" Shauna answered‚ keeping her

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    Have you ever been in a high intensity nerf war with your family? My family has them all the time. We split up into teams then go shoot each other with nerf guns. The battle takes place at night‚ and the lights are shut off making it hard to see‚ and much more difficult. My house has an upstairs and a downstairs with two stair cases on each side of the house. This makes it possible to have two ways to go up or down. First Thing I always do is get down to the gun creat before anyone else does because

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    I couldn’t believe what had happened to it‚ I was so mad. It was one of my favorite toys of all time and to see it in its condition made me sad. My dad used to be a P.E. teacher. One day he brought a bunch of his sports equipment home in a big blue bag. My sisters and I loved it when he brought his sports equipment home because we would always play with the tennis rackets‚ footballs‚ and everything else inside of the bag. There was a really nice red ball in the bag. It looked like a medium sized

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    I despise the games so much for all the pain they cause to the districts. Why do 24 people have to fight to win a stupid game; men‚ women‚ teenagers even kids aren’t spared. The people of the capital make me sick. Every year I watch friends killing friends and family killing family. The worst part of all of this is that the capital calls it a retribution….A penance for the uprising that happened all those years ago. Every year we are forced to watch the inhumane tv show called‚ “the hunger games

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    dressed to impress. This just wasn’t me. My plain‚ monochrome sweats would hang loosely from my hip bones as my straight‚ long hair would cover my long face. To my family‚ this was a sign of disrespect. But it only showed how little they really knew about me.

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    sea legs‚ I sailed on. I was Odysseus on his epic journey. I battled monsters; I struck down ego and pride into humility. I discovered new lands; I poured myself into show choir and dedicated myself to the Sundae Wednesday service project. I learned about the world; I immersed myself in the Dominican Republic and experienced a new kind of compassion. Leaving my anchor behind initially felt as though I had lost my identity. In reality‚ what I thought had kept me grounded in who I was in fact kept me

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    Volcano Personal Narrative “ Mom what day are we moving‚ I still have a lot to pack”‚ Sheila asked while she had been packing her bags. “ I think tomorrow‚ that’s the only day your dad and I are off‚” said her mom as she was packing her things too. It had been the next day and Sheila didn’t really care if she moved because she didn’t really know anyone and she was more excited to move than to not move. Weeks had past and her parents and her had went around the neighborhood meeting them and Sheila

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    “Chicago! I was born and raised here!” They would then proceed to ask‚ “But where are your parents from?” Ask a Caucasian person the same question‚ and there will be a higher chance of them not being further questioned about their origins. I understand that some people are just curious about others’ ethnicities and that’s perfectly fine with me. It’s just the way the question is presented that irks me and makes feel like an outcast.

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