Summer Writing: Where Sports Meet Storytelling

This summer, our students developed their creative writing skills through engaging prompts inspired by Session II's Global Sports theme, crafting original stories centered on sports from around the world. 

7th Grader, Trinity M., wrote her own descriptive story that brings readers into the heart of the action through vivid sports scenes and engaging details. Her creative storytelling showcases how descriptive writing can immerse an audience while highlighting her imagination and growing writing skills. Continue reading to experience her story for yourself. Creative Writing - Soccer

Racing from the halfway line, the midfielder kicks the trionda and it ricochets off a distracted player’s foot and it goes to his team mate. An opposing midfielder races towards him, and they duel for the ball. The air is tense and I shout, “Hey Philip, over here!” He hears me calling and he passes the ball towards me, just missing the opposing midfielders line of sight. 

I stop the ball with my cleats and I dribble the ball on the green pitch. The cool summer breeze is in my hair as I bound towards the goal. As I draw close to it, the goalie readies to defend his team's goal. His eyes are locked on the Trionda as I lock my eyes on an opening in the goal. I kick as hard as I can and the ball shoots like a shooting star in the vast night sky. 

The goalie dives and it seems that the whole world is watching and waiting to see what happens next. His hands widen and the ball just grazes his hand and he falls to the ground once the ball is out of his reach. “GOAL!” The football MC announces. “The Philippine Eagles won against the Argentina Suns 5 to 2!” His co-worker announces it to the world. My teammates dash towards me and tousle my hair and we share a group hug. “Marco, Marco, Marco!” The crowd chants loudly in the stadium waving the Philippine Flag in the air and screaming for joy. 

The end of the game is followed by the teammates putting on sunscreen in our cabana with the press shoving microphones in our face. After I make sure to get hydrated, people line up and ask for my autograph. “Marco, can you sign this  football?” one kid asks with his ball in his hands. “Marco, can you tell us if this is your biggest achievement in football as the Philippine Eagles’ top striker ?” A lady from Manila network asks with her camera crew in tow. I manage to escape them and meet my teammates and their families. “Hey Tito!” I called our coach. Tito is his nickname after we won our first game. “Hey Marco!” Tito calls as we make our way to a packed street food market. 

The street food market is packed as we weave our way in the midst of a humongous crowd. The air is flooded with the sweet and savory smell of Philippine street food. 

Creative Writing - Basketball ("The Injury")

“WHOOSH!” I skim close to the throw in line, barely going out of bounds. “SQEEE!” My shoes rub against the floor and I dash towards my opponent. “SMACK!” I slap my hand against the big, orange, rubber ball. “CLINK!” the basketball falls out of his hands. “SWOOSH!” I snatch it out of thin air and make a swift jog towards the hoop. 

My opponent closes in on me and I throw the ball with all my strength. “SWISH!” The ball sinks down the hoop while I’m still in the air. Then I begin to fall and try to plant my feet on the ground. “BAM!” As I hit the ground, my foot swerves and I slip onto the cold basketball court. “CRACK!” I hear something crack at my foot and in an instant I feel like a big metal pole thrust onto my foot while people are yelling and the lights are going down.

I wake up in a white room with a window overlooking the sandy white beaches of Boracay in the Bisaya region of the Philippines. To my left are flowers and a pot of savory white rice porridge. To my right is a signed basketball with my teammates’ names and a slice of coconut pie. I then feel the sharp pain of hunger and the savory  smell of steamed pork. I reach over and get my hands on a bowl of the rice porridge and wolf down every last bite of the savory stuff. 

After I set the bowl down I try to shift myself to make my area more comfortable, I feel the sharp stabbing pain of my foot and wince. “Oh hey! You’re up now, is your foot ok?” My brother asks me from an unnoticed spot in the room. He gets up and brings the doctor in from a door at the far right side of the room. “Ah, welcome, Marco!” She walks in the small room. “You’ve broken your right ankle and you’ll recover in 3 weeks to play basketball in no time!” She says as she checks important medical stuff on her clipboard and adjusts things on my IV. 

“Three weeks?” That's 5 days before the big game on Sunday!” I gasp in disbelief.