Memoir About Sports Novels & Stories

Sleeping on my side was uncomfortable because I had little body fat left and my bones pressed into the skin on my hips, knees, and shoulders. In sleep, I dreamed of vigorous motion. I had swum competitively for ten years, from age seven to seventeen. I had been riding horses since childhood. Smitten with Thoroughbred racing, I had spent my mid-teens learning to ride short-stirrup at a gallop, and praying that I wouldn’t grow too tall to become a jockey. At the packed college, I had been a tennis junkie. Now, as I lost the capacity to move, sports took over my dream world. When I woke, I felt the weight of illness on me before I opened my eyes.

Probably because he knew I held a high position, one that could make my work easier than this. That sense of nostalgia began to fill me. I’ve always loved many kinds of sports since I was young. Every time I see people focused on their training and competitions, they always seem to shine to me. I smiled as I answered him. “I took a double degree in that because I like sports, especially F1.” I looked him up and down, then back up again. “You know, rehabilitation can provide great support for athletes. And I prefer being directly involved rather than just watching from the sidelines.”

I knew I would have to travel a long way just to get past Alona and she would turn her attention to me. I joined the track and field when I found out he loved sports. I was not disappointed because I overcame that and received a medal. I saw him there those moments and watching me. I lifted the medal hanging around my neck and showed it to him, my smile almost reached my ears in those moments. When a strong wind suddenly blew and I realized everything was just my imagination. He wasn’t among the spectators of those moments and I also just refused to expect him to sit there while happily looking at me.

me, oh, gosh, I feel like the ground should just open and swallow me up, how embarrassing, what am I supposed to say as an explanation? "I...I just remembered an old joke my mother told me" I lied and he looked at me like I was insane, "is this the best time for you to start remembering jokes?" I quickly shook my head, I don't want to upset him more than he already was, "what can you do for the team?" He asked, staring directly at me and I unconsciously took a step back from his penetrating glare, "um, I..I...I., nothing, um, I mean..." He cocked his head to one side and folded his arms across his chest, I stopped talking before I could make more fool of myself, I could already hear the gig

"Something I don't know. Something that's not about the kids or logistics or schedules." He thought about it. "I've been writing." "Writing what?" "A memoir. About my father. About the trial. About everything. I haven't shown anyone. It's probably terrible. But it's... therapeutic." I reached across the table. Took his hand. "That's amazing. I'd love to read it." "Really?" "Really. When did you start?" "Some months ago. Late at night when I can't sleep. When my brain won't shut off."

John asked, gesturing toward the television with his slice, grease dripping dangerously close to his lap. I chuckled, leaning back in my chair. “Not religiously. I’m more of a casual fan. My grandfather never let me get too distracted by sports. He said it dulled the mind. But when I did sneak away to watch a game, it felt like freedom. Like I was doing something bold and rebellious.”

BEATRICE: Josh smiled. “I know you will eventually remember me. I am glad you finally remembered me, Beatrice. Faces like this are hard to forget,” he muttered while wearing a smile on his face. He was not bragging. He sure was handsome and this man knew it too. My forehead knotted. “How come I did not remember you?” He shrugged off his shoulders. “You have different interests. You were into reading while I was in sports. You never visited the stadium. You were always swimming in your books and if not for your friends, you would never watch any sports.”

“He tries to fight me, and it's been a long time since I've had so much activity. He's enormous, yet his fist is so light and feeble! I'm glad he didn't actually injure you; otherwise, I'm not sure what more I could do to him!” “Regarding that! You never disclosed to me that you can fight. We've been together for five years, yet it never occurred to me that you could fight like that!” “Hmmm, I've been on a martial arts team since I was in high school. I've competed at nationals four times, winning gold. I tried to develop myself in that area, but my mother disagreed. I had no option but to become a cook. I concentrated on my profession till I fell in love with it. However, after I lost my me