ENGL. 1113 (10AM)
A Championship Short Lived
Street lights flicker over the rusted yellow bus as we travel over the road. I hear the screeching of the brakes and tires. The driver kills the engine, signaling we have arrived at our destination. The folding doors slam open, letting the winter air sweep the inside of the vehicle like a tsunami. The coach then yells â€œEveryone Off!â€ The rumbling of bags and feet shuffling across the floor rings throughout the bus. We begin to shuffle out one by one. As I step off, snowflakes continue to fall, covering the land like a blanket. Every step I take towards the building makes the knot in my stomach tighten, ...view middle of the document...
He smirked and said, â€œAll right letâ€™s win ourselves a championship.â€ I looked around at the teamâ€™s starting five, which included myself, Ken Howard, and Jordan Matthews making our front court, while â€œBoomerâ€ Grimes and Jeremy made up the backcourt. We walked to half-court and turned into the menâ€™s locker rooms, so we could prepare mentally. Inside the locker room I entered were several paint chipped and battered lockers and one stray ceiling light that kept flickering on and off. We took seats on the wooden bench and began our typical pre-game ritual, lacing our shoes together like a finely tuned instrument and then came the speech.
Jeremy, being our team captain, led us. He said â€œAll right, guys, this is it. Six months of coach working us to the bone and into the ground.â€ Everyone laughed. â€œBut that all pays off here tonight. Tonight, weâ€™re going to bring Manitou Springs its first 5A state basketball championship. Now letâ€™s go win ourselves a game!â€
Everyone brought their hands in the middle above our heads. Jeremy said, â€œManitou on three!â€ and the chant of â€œone...twoâ€¦threeâ€¦Manitou.â€ The chant rang through the locker room. Some started jumping others clapped, and I could only shake my head at the antics everyone showed. I walked out onto the court, and the first thing I noticed was there were a lot of spectators in the bleachers. Jeremy walked next to me, and I looked over and said, â€œDonâ€™t chokeâ€, and he responded with a shove against me and walked off shaking his head, smirking all the while. We began to warm-up. Horns began to air out through the gymnasium, letting all know the game was about to commence. My team and the opposing walked to center court with one of two referees holding the ball for us.
The referee looked at Jordan and asked â€œReady?â€ Jordan shook his head. The referee looked towards Jordanâ€™s opposing man and asked â€œReady?â€ the boy replied â€œLetâ€™s go.â€ The referee then tossed the ball in the air. Like the calm before the storm, everything was quiet and still, and just as Jordan hit the ball towards Jeremy, all sounds burst through like a volcano erupting.
The game during the first half was boring. The first quarter was like an awkward middle school dance. Each of our respective teams struggling to get the offense going was making the few bits of sanity left in our coaches exit the building. The score after eight minutes of play was 12-11, West Grand ahead. The second quarter, my teamâ€™s defensive play finally began to pump life back into our all but dead offense. The defense helped us score 18 turnover points on the fast break. The other team tried to adjust, but their forte was in the half-court set, not the up-tempo style of play we were finally delivering. At the half, the score was 32-28, with both momentum and the game in our hands. We had everything to lose. During halftime, Iâ€™d never seen Coach so blistering mad that if he were any madder, there would...