song: little girl by monogram
[ i've listened to this song so much when i was sad and needed comfort, and it still hits each time. i'm getting emotional now just by listening to it again. ]
—
second-class: of mediocre or inferior quality
—
Maybe she had come to terms with her position on the team.
She was fast, but not fast enough. She could shoot, but not well enough. She could pass, but not crisp enough. She could see the whole court, but—her vision—it wasn't vast enough. She was adaptable to her opponents, but not responsive enough; she was, apparently, slow, but was she?
She held a high basketball IQ, but it wasn't high enough. She was a team player, but wasn't expressive enough. She communicated with her teammates, but her words weren't impactful enough. She became a leader, but—her influence—it wasn't memorable enough.
Everything she did was good, but only good. And, never good enough.
At least in her coaches' eyes, that was. They praised her, they recognized her, but it was never enough to play on the women's varsity basketball team. She was labeled as a junior varsity athlete. Subpar, according to their unannounced standards.
Initially, it didn't bother her; she was a freshman and it was a privilege to play up, skipping the freshman team. After all, she was playing basketball for the love of the sport, not to go professional, or at least that was she was telling herself.
It wasn't until she began questioning her coaches, the minds and men manipulating the system behind the scene, did she view her presence on the junior varsity team more than a seniority discrepancy.
The coaches expressed their desire to win, but the teams they were forming did not place their best foot forward. Too prideful in some's eyes, at least she knew what she could bring to the court, the abilities and experience the varsity team was missing—admittedly.
Shrugging these thoughts out of her mind, she stood beside the star point guard of the men's varsity basketball team, Nathan Lee. This wasn't a customary match up for her team and his, even for a scrimmage, yet it was a challenge Skylar was eager to take, an opportunity she wanted to make the most of.
Therefore, despite fully knowing this happened solely because her junior varsity team was the only team they boys could practice against, Skylar wanted to use this experience to test her skills and trust for her teammates.
Skylar never knew Nathan personally; she was only aware of his court dominance from last year, how he the varsity's team freshman who carried his team to state championships.
"You ready?" He asked softly. She smiled at his attempt to start conversation before their scrimmage began. The reputation he garnished was much different from how he spoke.
"I'm interested," Skylar replied. "This is a match-up that doesn't happen every day."
"It could be. I'm confident both parties here can take this as a learning experience. Disregarding the terminological differences of men and women and varsity and junior varsity, we are just two teams who play basketball. I think that's how we all should approach this game."
"I agree, although it does appear some of my teammates are fearful."
"They'll warm up and open up. I can't tell yet which is worse here, pride or fear."
