Hustle Vs Muscle

Chapter 23: Something You Can't Take Away

Today is our second game, at home. We will be playing against Westbrook High School. Their team calls themselves the Westbrook Warriors. I can see the Westbrook boys on the other side of our gym in green jerseys, warming up. As we are warming up, we hear them chanting after every excersize.

"We are the Westbrook Warriors.
We'll beat the other team
We are the Warriors
Our colors, white and green!"

The Westbrook boys are very thin and tall, unlike the Apples boys, who have meat on their bones. Their shortest guy is taller than me by three inches. Of course D'amato does jump ball. I play, forgetting Coach Anthony's hurtful words, forgetting about everything that happened at practice and off the court. All that matters is that ball, stealing it, the fast break and the basket. I play my heart out. We beat them forty six to thirty eight. At the end of the game, my knees are scraped from diving after the ball and getting into those five-second tussles over it. I am sweating and my lungs are burning, but I am elated.

I feel good about my game. Today I scored the most points and got the most steals. But Coach Anthony doesn't even say "Good job!" or even smile in my direction the way he did when D'amato got the most points last week. Whatever. I finally know for certain that I did great, because I can see it in the way the Westbrook coach yelled "Watch out for 62! Watch out for 62!" when we were on offense. I can see it in the way the entire student section yells my name as I speed down the court with the Westbrook boys trying to steal the ball, spin away to throw them off and go for the layup.

We beat them by only four baskets. This team might be the one we have to watch out for. The girls team at my old school were aggressive and played hard. But these guys were super tough and right now they were looking at me as if they want me dead. When we shake hands with the Westbrook boys and say "Good game," the tallest Westbrook boy tries to crush my hand. We walk away, chanting our chant.

"We're from Glenwood
And we're gonna win the game.
We're on fire.
Cause we're the Glenwood Flames!"

As I walk out the door, the Westbrook boy flips me the middle finger. But I just laugh and wave at him.

We get to go to Chili's again and I order off the adults menu this time. "You played great, Aiden." I say. Aiden also hit some great shots. He also got lots of good rebounds. "Yeah." says Katrini. "That was a good game! Even our cheerleaders out cheered them. You played awesome. That was really cool!" "But that tall Westbrook guy hates me." I chuckle. "He's probably just wishing you were on their team." laughs Aiden. "You're faster than all of them."

I will always remember these games. Not every single moment, but flashes of them. The pounding of the ball against the court as I dribbled and spun away right past a Westbrook boy. The swishing sound the ball makes as it passes through the hoop. Voices chanting the chant we made up. These are the things I'll remember. And nobody, not D'amato, not Coach Anthony can take that away.