A competition of the Worlds

And he Fell

Five. Tension coursed through the tight muscles straining for the last battle as it began, sweat streaking down the stubbled jaw lines. Lungs gasping, wheezing for the oxygen that lacked, fifty pound weight draped across the chest that thumped and heaved as the clock ticked.

Four. One point. One point and double over time. Feet thudding down the ceramic wood floors, the single ball going up and down, up and down. Again and again, no openings, no shots, no way to win. The clock ticked.

Three. Back and forth, looking, hoping for a chance. Then there, by the base line running up the elbow, flicking over head to his waiting calloused hands. There was no shot, and no one for help. Side stepping a back spinning to the only orange awaiting rim, one last step he looked, giving a powerful pass directly to the opened hand. Bringing the Han up to meet with the other, leaning back and releasing. Praying that our last chance would succeed. Tick.

Two. The orange globe swirled, then falling through the net at last. A single point up, two seconds- the whistle blew from the stripped zebra to the left. Thoughts racing, the referee signaling a technical foul on Paul for shoving an opponent after the basket. The clock stopped, Paul on the bench replaced by a junior, and number thirty-four on the line shooting. Lined closest to the basket, my mind reeled sorting the possibilities. Our only chance of winning was that they only had one shot. But scanning the team, realizing neither team has enough endurance to play another eight minuets. Thirty- four shoots, it goes in. Tied. Quickly grabbing the ball stepping out, waiting. Then Eric, sunning down the sideline in, avoiding any if the Vipers was there, clear as day. I chucked to him as he went in, but the other team came from behind crashing into him.

Point three seconds. Whistles blown, tied game, two shots. Eric lined the center, spun the ball, two hard dribbles, focus on the back of the rim, and released. Bouncing the rim, but not falling. I stepped to him slamming his out reached hand and telling him to breath and that we are all good. We all knew that this would be the deciding factor of the game but p, that doesn't help telling someone that. Same routine, spin, dribble, shoot. Spiraling back going through the paint chipped hoop. My breath caught, we had it and every one knew.

In the locker room coach gave the team a fare warning on not to get over confident because that gave was closer than it was supposed to be, but in the end he congratulated us on making it to the finals of states. After he left, some whooped with joy while others just grinned and began to collect their bags. Heading to the back showers, I grabbed Paul's elbow getting his attention.

"Hey, what was that all about out there." I asked calmly, knowing that things can get heated but his stunt just about coast the game.

"It's just that he was playing dirty, man then he started talking crap" He vented shaking his head. I noodled replying

"It's cool man, but but be more careful next time. Let's hit the showers we smell rank." Heading out the gym, I went to the back lot where Juli sat.

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