Personal Narrative: My Time As A Ball Player

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With one minute left, my coach called a timeout. My team was down by one. Our shooting guard was tired. During the game, he ran slow, with sweat trickling down his face. “Rob, you 're in,” said my coach. With less than 1 minute left, my team passed the ball in. Time was ticking down as our point guard came down the court. Even though it was the month of December, the gym was hot, and there was beads of sweat coming down my face. I positioned myself in a spot to where i could shoot or drive if I were to get the ball. By the time I took a jab-step into the lane, there was 20 seconds left. The point guard made eye contact with me before making a crisp bounce pass. As soon as the ball touched my hands, I turned to shoot. Time seemed as if it
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