Always Fighting // Kyrie Irving

Hello, It's Me Again // 2015 NBA Finals- Game Three

Sabrina-

I arrive at the Quicken Loans Arena almost two hours before the start of the game, but several hours after Steve gets here. Usually, I don't bother coming this early, it's all warm ups and setting up and pregame stuff. Part of me just hope that because we are in Cleveland, I'll see Kyrie.

I had asked Steve about a week or two ago if I could have a decently close seats to the Cavaliers bench. Not right behind them and not too far away. He agreed, though he sighed once or twice. I don't know why he should really care whether or not I root for the Warriors or the Cavs. Tons of families in America are divided between sports teams and manage to get along great.

Either way, I make my way to my seat, in the center of one of the middle rows. He got me a good one. The Cavaliers are practicing on the court, and the staff is hastening around to get last minute things done.

I find myself disappointed when Kyrie is nowhere to be found. Obviously. He's not playing anytime soon. But I thought that because this was the Q, he would be able to come. Sighing, I turn to my phone to look at social media.

__________________________________

When I actually look up for a decent amount of time, just under an hour has passed. The Q is slowly filling with people. Sometimes they trickle in by twos and threes and fours, and others times there will be a gush of people coming through the doors. Staff is still putting the final touches on everything when I see someone come out of the tunnel in a light grey suit.

He's here. He actually came. I watch as he walked carefully over to the bench and slowly lowers himself down. Everyone else on the team is out on the floor practicing. It must be hard for him. To sit there and watch what he has always participated in. I mean, sure, people get small injuries or they get sick and have to sit out for a game or two, but it is something entirely different when you know you won't be back for months.

Several minutes pass by before I work up the courage to say something.

"Hi!" I call out. He doesn't even start. Of course not. They are all probably used to fans calling out to them. Unless I have something unique to say, something that will remind him he talked to me first, I'm out of luck.

I rack my brain for something that was said in our conversation. What on earth could I possibly say that would get him to see me. Ah.

"Hey, Uncle Drew, glad to the news sharks didn't kill you," That did it. He spun around in his seat and glanced up and down the rows of seats.

A look of confusion flashed over his face before he recognized me, and then he waves, beckoning me down. Trying hard to contain my excitement at being allowed to approach my favorite basketball player, I excuse myself from the row and make my way down.

"Hey... uhm...' He says when I'm close enough. Which is a good question. How close do I dare get? "You didn't give me your name, did you?"

"Sabrina," I reply. Did he really just ask for my name? Okay... calm down.

"Well hello, Sabrina."

Kyrie-

It takes me but a second to recognize her voice when she calls out the second time. Yes, I heard the hello, which I now realize was also her, but I wasn't sure if it was someone calling to a friend or a fan hollering at one of us. But when she said news sharks, I instantly knew who it was. Now it was just a matter of finding her in the steady crowd of people filling up the Q.

My eyes quickly scan row after row, flying up and down, looking for the flowing brown hair that characterized her. There. Wait....was that really her? Yes, but her hair is braided in an intricate style that falls over her shoulder. She wears a pair of black shorts and a maroon Kyrie Irving jersey. Is that the only jersey she owns?

A slight feeling I can't quick pin down flutters in my chest when that thought crosses my mind. Reaching my hand up before I even know what I'm truly doing I beckon her down. She looks stunned at my actions but she smiles and fairly flies down the stairs.

"Hey... uhm..." Crap, I don't know her name. "You didn't give me your name, did you?"

"Sabrina," she says, flashing another smile. Where do I go from here? I've never struggled this much with a girl before. Usually I'm pretty smooth.

"Well,hello, Sabrina, it's nice to finally put a name to a face," I pause, wondering if making a slight joke is too much. "A face that somehow shows up at a lot of Finals games." Something flashes across her eyes, but only for a second.

"I save up," she explained quickly. "Basketball has always meant a lot to me, I don't want to miss the climax. It's what everyone- players, coaches, fans- waits for. Their moment on the biggest stage, their moment to show they have what it takes. There is something really beautiful in that." She winces and looks down at my leg.

"It's okay," I say, trying to reassure her. I don't know why she would think I would take offense at that. People get hurt. It happens. Sure it stings like hell that it was during game one of the finals, but I got to play in almost a full game. That's more than a lot of people say.

Really, though, that whole thinking is riding from my mama. I was pretty pissed until she pointed out that it's so early in my career, I'll be back, and I at least got to play in a game. Moms. Sometimes they suck all the joy out of moping.

We only talk for a couple more minutes, it's probably not great for us to talk much longer. I'm sure she doesn't want rumors getting out or anything like that. I know our time is coming to a close and try to decide what to do.

Something feels right with her, yet I barely know her.

All of a sudden 'Bron is draping his arm over my shoulder, a wide grin spreading across his face. I really want to elbow him in the ribs right now. He waves a hello at Sabrina before leaning down and muttering 'Dude, I swear to God if you take any longer to get her number, that knee won't be the only thing bothering you.' He pulls away, his smile seeming even bigger if that's even possible. Without another word, he backs away silently into the tunnel.

That's my call to go back into the locker too. I hesitate a split second before excusing myself.

"I gotta head back now." I point to the tunnel entrance behind me. "Could I, uhm, have you write down your number?" Smooth, reeallll smooth.

____________________________________

"Dude, what the heck did you think you were doing coming up to me?" I glare at LeBron as he gets ready for the team announcements.

"Number eight..... Matthew Dellavedova!"

"You obviously needed a push," he says, grinning as he slaps me on the back.

"Number twenty..... Timofey Mozgov!"

"I didn't, I had it all under control," LeBron laughs at that before ripping the warm up shirt off.

"Number twenty-three..... LeBron James!"

"Go get 'em, 'Bron," I give him a thwack as he barrels to the court.

Just like every game so far, and most likely every game until the champion is crowned, it was hard fought to the end. We led by seventeen at the end of the third quarter, but the Warriors made an impressive run that brought us to a one point lead with two minutes left in the fourth.

Hard defense forced Golden State to make contested shots that just wouldn't fall. The anxiety Cleveland fans felt during the Warriors bounce back melted away in the waning seconds of the game as we took a five point lead that we would maintain.

It was 91-96. Despite all of our injuries, we led the series 2-1. We don't give up.