Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Brianna Garcia
English 102
Kindra Rounds
September 24, 2015
I walk up to grey doors on the south side of the gym, with my peach colored basketball
shoes tied to each other, I throw them over my left shoulder, and gather my hair into a
ponytail slightly on the top of my head. I place my hand on the cold, scratched silver metal
handle then gain a firm hold on it. I begin to pull the door toward me and as the door slightly
cracks open I hear a roar and a cold breeze swipes across my face. As the echo from the roar
fades away, I step into the gym looking down at my black name brand socks come in contact
with the newly waxed, glossy wood floor. The door gently closes behind me then I look up with
an overwhelming excitement.
The usual rows and rows of light brown wood bleachers are compacted against the
east and west walls. The six basketball hoops, usually raised to the ceiling by a single black
remote, are hanging ten feet from the ground. I walk to the bleachers on my left; I take my
shoes off of my shoulder and throw them gently on the ground. As the shoes make a thud I
press my back against the bleachers and begin to slowly slide down them. My bottom reaches
the ground and I pull my knees into my chest wrapping my arms around them then begin
acknowledge the tinniest details of the gym. I look up and stare at windows at the top of the
giant walls with blue athletic figures plastered on them, the sun shining through the white over
lay, I begin to remember how much I missed this feeling of comfort and adrenalin.
I hear shoes squeak and the pounding of the ball as my teammates dribble up and
down the court. Coach is yelling different plays and phrases to keep up hustling and working
hard. I gaze at the bleachers across from me and picture the opponents fans yelling and
pointing toward the refs and players chanting their teams name violently. I move my eyes
toward the blue circle right on the center of the court and can picture myself jumping high
over my opponent to get the ball. My heart starts pounding and butterflies fill my stomach. I
feel sweat roll down my face as my chest goes up and down trying to catch my breath.
I look at the basket on the south side of the gym. I feel different bodies behind me as I
use by body to aggressively keep them away from the ball. I jump and at the peak of my jump
I obtain the ball pull it to my chin. My head begin to swirl with different moves I can do to get
this ball into the basket. I go straight back up, the ball leaves my hands and rolls around the
orange rim. After waiting for what seems like an eternity, the ball slowly falls into the net and I
get the feeling of dominance.
I unravel my arms that are holding my legs and grab my bright colored shoes next to
me. I untie the shoe laces from each other, slip them on my feet and quickly tighten them to
get to work. I stand up and adjust my ponytail one more time then I stare at the utterly
beautiful environment of this place I find refuge, and realize how in love I am with this gym.
Others might find this gym to be anything but special, but I would defiantly have to disagree.
Home is where the heart is, and this gym has my heart.