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My Autobiography

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My Autobiography The crowd was eager, like a lion's hunger for its prey, anticipating every move. I sensed the walls around closing in on me, chaining me to my destiny. I could feel thousands of piercing eyes on my back, their gaze freezing me to where I stood. The tension in the stadium was tangible, broken only by a small flickering light in the distance. Time was ticking away like a car bomb, nudging me closer to my actions. I saw my dad stand up out of the now silenced audience and shout something towards me in encouragement. I noticed the sweat pouring down his face and the hope glinting in his eyes. His voice started to fade away as I breathed deeply and let my muscles relax, facing the man between myself and the glory. All or nothing. The top of the stadium stood tall, all the small offices and flats around, bowing to it, wonderfully happy just to exist near this elegant architectural wonder. The butterflies flew around my stomach as I sheepishly collected my gear and climbed out of the car into the empty parking lot. Like a graveyard it was eerily silent. ...read more.


I felt better already. As all the other badminton players arrived and took their places, the first round draw was called out for the U13 Boy's Singles. That was me. He was younger and much shorter than me. He wore bright orange shoes and socks, and knew I would remember them. It was very distracting, like having an annoying younger brother you had you keep an eye on. I lost a few points but then quickly got my act together. I was sailing through to the next round with an easy win of 21-5. Next thing I know I'm in the quarterfinals. A buy and another easy draw! What luck! It would inevitably end soon. I met my next challenge. A boy 1 year older than me, with the height of a giraffe. It was hard to pull of any lobs. Just 4 people left now. I hadn't dreamt I would reach this far. Any hope abandoned me as I saw my next opponent. He was the friend of the boy I beat in the quarters...the bigger and better friend. ...read more.


Hundreds more spectators piled into the stadium, all waiting for one thing. My opponent and I both took our places on the centre court. I won the toss and was to serve first. I held the wet and slippery handle of the weapon of my choice. A bit of the tension in my muscles was relieved when I won the first few points easily enough. I started to enjoy myself and took a huge lead of ten points, but then I began to ache and the strain I put on my injured wrist was immense. He started to edge back into the game and won nine out of the next twelve points. He was now winning. I was losing. I used my signature move a couple of times and next thing I knew, I was winning 20-16. Championship point... Life went in slow motion as the crowd cheered and my opponent threw his racket at the floor in frustration. I didn't even know what had happened until I was awarded with the trophy and scooped up into the arms of Dad. Once all the official business had been taken care of I slid on my knees in front of the crowd. They loved this and applauded loudly and cheerfully. Everyone was happy. Apart from my opponent. ...read more.

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