Hustle Vs Muscle

Chapter 27: The Last Game Part II

Halftime is over. I will not let these boys dominate me. The first thing I do when I get the ball from the Westbrook boys is sprint down the court. I shoot but it doesn't go in. D'amato catches the rebound and puts it back up. The Westbrook boys have a three point lead on us. Their defense is becoming more aggressive. They start going after me when I dribble, slapping their hands at the ball. I fake to the left, spin away and drive to the basket. I make the layup just as a buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the third quarter. The score is seventeen to eighteen. This is a low scoring game.

Since some players quit the team, that means more playing time for the rest of us, so I get to stay in for the fourth quarter. We have the ball, I dribble down the court and I decide to take a huge risk. I spin away, making sure I'm behind the three pointer line and I shoot my shot. I think my heart skipped a beat as it sailed up.

Swish! Cheers rise from the audience, clapping and screaming and pumping their fists in the air. The score is twenty to eighteen.

D'amato scores another basket, making the score twenty two to eighteen. But on defense, a Westbrook boy attempts a three pointer. The ball leaves his hands before I can block it and it goes in. Even worse, he is awarded a free throw and sinks it. The ball is ours. I look at the clock. Only twelve seconds left. The audience is counting down in unison.

I sprint as fast as I can down the court, outrunning the nine other boys who want that ball as much as I do. I am six feet away from the basket, in the middle of a layup, when I am tackled to the ground by a tall Westbrook boy. All I can say is I'd better get a free throw because I don't remember the rules allowing you to tackle each other.

And I am awarded a free throw. I need to make this shot. This shot will win the game. I need to hit that white square in the middle of the backboard . I pause. I shoot it. It hits the backboard square in the middle and goes in. The win is ours, by one point.

Boys are surrounding me, clapping me on the back. Even D'amato congratulates me. "That was smooth." he says. "Real smooth."

Even though I am elated about winning and making the game-winning free throw, I am plagued by sadness because this was the last game I will ever play here. I promised myself that I would never quit and here I am, quitting four weeks into the season. And I look around at all these boys, even D'amato, have become like a family to me. But I have to remind myself that this family had an abusive parent, and that is why I have to quit. It's for my own good. But I made it count. I made my last day on this court count.

And that's all that matters.