I was never a big fighter.  I usually kept my distance from any small fights going on.  I’m just not big enough to scramble for position and I don’t have the nerve to elbow or punch anyone.  So when I wanted to do something physical, I usually just walked away.  I was sitting there waiting for the bell to ring.  It was silent with the occasion of a rustle of somebody flipping their notebook pages, lukewarm with quiet music in the background, yet still a peaceful atmosphere.  I was just sitting there thinking of a good story, as My teacher had said, “Good stories are good speeches.”  Yet, I didn’t know what to write.  My blue, shinny mechanical pencil was just about two millimeters above the paper.   I needed to find something eventful in my life.  I looked around me just to see people finished with there story smiling and going up to Mrs. Wong show them their scripts.  “Hurry, hurry,” I said with almost a frustrating voice in my head, “I can’t be last.”  Everybody else finishing wasn’t helping.  I was just sitting there while everybody else was discussing.   “Dong, dong, dong, dong.” rang the bell.  I quickly grabbed my stuff and ran out the room pushing by everybody. 
I exited out on the grass and saw everybody talking and walking home happily.  Music was playing on the loudspeaker and it seemed like everybody was in a great mood.  After all, it was Friday.   I was going to a Warriors game.   I didn’t know at the time, but after that day, I would have a great story to tell.
Warriors games were so fun, especially since it was almost a guaranteed win.  That would just mean Oracle Arena would go even more crazy.  Now, for once, I was excited to do something before the game started.  So it felt the car ride went a lot faster.  As our black Prius pulled up to vallet.  “Beep” beeped the ticket scanner.  “Go that way.”  the lady said pointing to the better paved road.  We drove to the tent and got out of the car.  “Hurry up mom!”  I said.  “OK!”  I ran to the entrance.  “Beep!’ The ticket scanner beeped.  “Welcome to Oracle Arena!  Home of the Warriors!”  I ran as fast as my legs could carry me even though security was screaming at me to slow down.  At the same time I knew that nobody was going to chase me.  I ran out of the concessions and to the court.  The sound of Oracle is music to my ears.  The people screaming and excited to be there, the lights flashing and the music playing.  It was my favorite atmosphere.  It was the type of feeling that you almost felt you had to walk in.  It was so friendly unless you were wearing a Clippers jersey.  Yet I was running through the black chairs that said Oracle all over them.  I ran until I found the Warriors tunnel.  A big rope was from the first seat to about the 10th seat.  There was a blue, torn up sign saying, “Autograph collectors only, pictures can be taken from the side.  Thank you and go warriors!”  The sign made me want to get autographs.  I was the first one there and the place to get autographs was filling up.  “I might as well try.”  I told myself and I took one large breath and stepped under the rope.
I picked a row and went to it.  I picked a low row to hopefully guarantee I get an autograph and it was more near the security so it would be less violent if it was violent at all.  Again, I’m not a violent person.  “Alright! Alright!   Look up here!  There are a few rules here.  No pictures and no objects to get autographs only jerseys.  Only holding them down when the players go back into the locker room.”  Lectured the security guard.  “Oh yeah,” he continued.  “Curry comes out at 75 minutes and leaves at 60 minutes on the pregame clock.”  I looked up at the clock.  It was 77 minutes.  The adrenaline in my body started running.  It felt so exciting to maybe get Curries autograph.  I looked back up, 75 minutes.  Just like that everybody around me started to get excited and started cheering and putting there hands over the clear railing.  I followed.  “Its Curry!” The guy next to me said.
It was like being about to get onto a roller coaster.  Cheers started to start in Oracle and it felt like an earthquake.   “Yeah!” Everybody started saying.  The next moments went by like a whizz. Curry was everywhere, shooting around taking jump shots from everywhere.  I was staring at him in amazement as was everybody else.  I looked around Oracle.  Everybody had their phones out taking pictures left and right of Curry as he continued taking shots from remarkable places.  Every shot he took was going in.  He started then shooting from half court with the ohhs and ahhs of everybody in Oracle Arena.  “He’s coming!”  said one man.  “Jerseys down!” screamed the security guard.  Everybody now started yelling, “Curry! Curry!”
I was in the back of my row, so I was trying to get to the front.  I tried to go over the people yet they were just shoving me back selfishly.  So I tried going under.  A brutal mistake.  I got my arm stuck in between their arms.  “Uh oh,” I whispered to myself. “ this is just great.”  Then I noticed that if I shoved outward on the people who were shoving in,  I might be able to transfer hands and get my jersey under the board.  So I pushed and the people pushed back.  Yet eventually, I got traded my jerseys hand.  I didn’t account for one thing though, and that was how high I was.  I would have to get down on my knees.  With everybody yelling and almost a helpless cause of getting his autograph, I thought about giving up.  Yet I had waited 45 minutes to be here.  Giving up was my absolute last option.  I had to keep trying.  So I got under just in time as Curry go to me.  “Yes!” I screamed in my head.  It felt so good to know that Curry may have autographed my jersey.  So when I pulled it up, the feeling was better then when I had aced my test.  Curry had autographed my jersey.  I walked over to my mom, she said, “Did you get it?”  I just smiled back and sat down, ready for the game to start and knowing I would have this tradition for every Warriors game after that.