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An answer to the ever popular essay question
It was one of those decisions made in the blink of an eye. In retrospect, the time it took to complete the business was in no way a measure of the deep significance of its outcome. Gazing down the path one has steered through life is often an unpleasant affair, as it renders countless feelings of regret. A person examining his past reaches the unavoidable point at which he is left contemplating various blunders, reluctantly acknowledging those missed turns along the road of life. Whenever I set my mind to reflecting upon my own past, I never fail to focus on what I have determined to be my biggest failing.
Shame ridden, I am consistently forced to ponder over the gravest error I have ever committed each time some curious soul innocently inquires after my most embarrassing moment. Yet, I believe that I have finally summoned the courage to admit that I was mistaken in my judgment.
Although I have engaged in a bitter struggle with the truth, I am at last ready to face it. It happened when I was in fifth grade. I attended a small private day school. From a young age, I had been a non-conformist; I really couldn't help it, as it was plainly in my nature to swim against the tide. Accordingly, I was the only female who wished to be included as a member of the basketball team. I do not mean to imply that I desired to play basketball merely because it would be considered outrageous; I truly enjoyed the sport.
The fact that I was an absolutely miserable player is another matter entirely. Fortunately, try-outs were not required and after some deliberation, I was bestowed with a jersey - number 22. Being the only girl on a team of boys is one of those tasks that, to use a tired but not retired cliché, is easier said than done. I was an oddity.
My teammates could hardly have been less accepting had they tried. They seemed to act as if I was invading the territory to which they had previously laid rightful claim. I was seen as an intruder. It was as if the boys had secretly conferred on the best method to rid themselves of my undesirable, feminine presence. I imagined that they had agreed to ignore, mock, and humiliate me whenever possible.
Extremely suspicious of my abilities as a basketball player, the coach was less that enthused to have me placed in his charge. I can't say that I blamed him for shirking the responsibility of training a frightfully clumsy ten year old to develop hand-eye coordination and dribbling and shooting skills. I am not bitter; I do not begrudge his uncharitable attitude. The coach's behavior towards me, however, did not incline the boys to be especially receptive. Indeed, they shared a mutual sense of doubt, bordering on scorn, for my athletic potential. Practices were not enjoyable. They were, in fact, quite dreadful. I despised them but I refused to quit. I stubbornly swore to myself that I would endure. I distinctly recall that there was a tremendous amount of running. As I stumbled through countless laps, gasping for breath, beads of perspiration adhering to my neck, I questioned the ultimate purpose of this endless circling of the gymnasium. I suppose that it was the lack of oxygen being carried to my brain that prevented me from forming any reasonable conclusion. I consistently found myself at the back of the line, marking my first lap while those ahead of me counted their tenth. Numerous sets of sneakers squeaked on the hard floor as they passed me by.
I remained diligent. I never would have acted upon my secret whim to cut corners. I always considered myself fortunate to survive a practice day. My breath rapid and my nerves raw, I knew the true meaning of sheer exhaustion. Games were discouraging. I mostly observed from the bench. When the coach did put me in, my teammates did their best to exclude me. No matter how often I was open or how loudly I begged, I never received a single pass. I jogged up and down the court, hoping that I might help my team in some minor way - a block, a pass, or even a basket! It was during one of the games that my humiliation reached a peak. We were up against an all boys team. As usual, I was the only girl on the court. At half-time, the coach decided to be merciful and let me play. We were losing by just four points. We were on offense and one of the twins on our team (I never did learn to distinguish between them) seemed to be searching for someone to pass to, as he was completely cornered by our opponents. I maneuvered myself into position so that I was "open," fully expecting him to find some excuse to avoid sharing the ball with me if he could devise any alternative. Imagine my surprise when I suddenly felt the ball in the palms of my hands. It was a sensation that was utterly new to me. I longed to hold the ball a bit longer but I realized that I had to find something to do with this precious and unexpected gift. I must have been in shock, because the entire room was spinning. I was exceedingly confused. Every face on the court seemed to be no more than a blur. Dumbfounded, I stood still and stared and made the decision of a lifetime. I passed the ball - directly into the hands of the person standing in front of me. It so happened that he was not a member of my team. The referee blew his whistle and cried, "Let's give this young lady a big round of applause!" Blushing as red as an overripe tomato, I stumbled to my seat amidst a standing ovation. People can be so cruel. I replay this scenario repeatedly in my mind's eye. I can see it all as if it happened only yesterday. If only I had taken control of the situation. Why did I have to do something so incredibly idiotic? I'm not sure whether we won or lost that game. I couldn't see the scoreboard through my tears. The coach didn't even bother putting me in the next game. The effects of a seemingly inconsequential decision have proved to be long lasting.
I am unable to overcome the humiliation from which I still suffer. Had it not been for one wrong choice, I might have been a star athlete. I can't help but wince at the thought of the additional scholarships for which I might have been qualified. Alas, my self confidence was shattered and I'll never have the opportunity to accomplish my lifelong dream of earning a spot in the Women's National Basketball League. My quality of life has been declining since fifth grade, all due to one monumental decision. Article provided by 
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