My Life in a Snap Shot

I already have told it. It was my college admission essay. This is it...

This is it, my moment to shine. For the team and me, the past four months of practice and hard work have led up to this point. Now it’s up to me to make it pay off. It’s the state championship curling finals, and for me, as captain of my team, a win here is the pinnacle of achievement. It’s the last shot of the game, my shot. Do or die. I’ve made the call. I’m standing behind the hack. I focus. I clear my head.

I don’t think about my grades. I have an AP Calculus chapter test to study for this weekend. My AP Statistics homework is in my book bag in the locker room patiently waiting for me to crack it open and finish it off. My saxophone is at home in its case, unopened and untouched. I don’t even recall if I remembered to bring my sheet music home or not. Not to add to the work load, but there is that list of college applications to complete as well.

I don’t think about my other co-curricular activities. Next week, I have pep band. I believe it is one of the last ones for the basketball season. State chess is coming up soon; I have this gut feeling that it’s going to be so much fun. I’m not expecting to do exceedingly well because it is a hobby I just picked up. As for Green Team, we’re so close to having enough money for the solar panel system for the school. In only a few more months, it will be a done deal. A win today would make up for not being able to play soccer anymore. A few concussions too many and the doctors suddenly have their undergarments twisted saying things like, “No more contact sports.”

I don’t think about the people I love. My mom, and her mom, is sitting behind the glass with the rest of the anxious spectators. They’re probably more nervous right now than I am. My best friend is sitting back there too. He’s been watching, scrutinizing every call I make and every shot I throw. A little pang of regret exists there. He’s going to college in the fall, and I’m not. If my grandfather had been here, sitting back in those stands, he would have been so proud. He taught me to curl, the game and the strategy. He is my greatest hero. This shot is for him.

I clear this all from my head in the time it takes for my two teammates to clear their stopwatches, ready their brooms, and take their positions on either side of me. I don’t think. I slide out flawlessly, a perfect demonstration of years of practice. I release the stone. It’s dead on. It’s perfect. Before even the stones stop moving, I’m half sliding, half running down the ice with my fists in the air. My team and I embrace. I couldn’t have done it without the four of them. I glance back at the end result of my shot. I grin to myself. This is my moment to shine.