What triggers a memory? A sound, smell, or sight? Certainly these all help in recapturing an emotion within a very specific moment in time; one in which is known to never be forgotten. The easily recognizable and stunningly unique sounds of basketball are such that are eternally ingrained in my mind and my soul. The piercing, high-pitched, and abrupt squeaking of fresh, white high tops squealing across a recently-waxed court may be horribly obnoxious to many; but to me, it is pure and heavenly nostalgia. The harmonious blow of a referee's whistle, resonating throughout the towering gym walls and bouncing off of the ceiling, signals the other team's timeout and creates a reminiscent ringing in my ears. The unique sight of two rivaled opponents preparing to "jump" for the ball, warns of the heated competition about to incur.
Although I despise the thought of if, I often question the comparison of myself and my past rivals. I sometimes wonder where they are in the world today. Where is the girl who was my best friend until competition ruined her personality? What does she look like? Does she still play the game? Does her father still give her preferential treatment regardless of her earning it or not? The simple, yet enlightening answer to this is no. This girl now ironically attends the University of Florida. She has stopped playing basketball. She has lost the overwhelming attention of her father. How appropriate that two former friends are now real-life rivals, education and all.
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