I Still Think About My High School Crush
[big][b][i]The Happiest/Saddest Night of my Life: Part 4[/i][/b][/big]
[sep]
[i]This is Part 4. I recommend you reading the previous parts on my profile, before starting this one. They're featured.[/i]
[sep]
[b][i][u]Ultimate Ball: Sophomore Year Part 1[/u][/i][/b]
The class stood in a line and the teacher started from one end and worked his way down each student, pointing at each of us.
"1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2..."... "All of the 1's, come to this side of the gym. All of the 2's, onto the other end!"
We had all changed for the game. I wore the same thing I always wear whenever I play a sport in class: My mom's over-sized plain, white t-shirt and regular gym shorts. My mom was a pretty big woman. I was the only skinny one in my family, so her t-shirts would reach past my crotch and just look too big on me.
My team consisted of a couple of jocks, a couple of nerds, some regular kids, Cassidy, and Al. Cassidy was one of our end-zone players. Al and I, were once again, main-field players. I had come to believe that maybe Cassidy didn't like me, as boyfriend material, because we never really spoke much to one another offline. Our friendship has almost, exclusively, been online, despite us having been in the same class all year. And she was always with Sharon. Always. I could never find an opportunity to speak to her away from Sharon. And so I decided with this... for the remainder of my days with her, I'll show her a side of me that she couldn't see past a computer screen. And it would start here.
I'm not gonna lie, I remember feeling dreadfully nervous about the game. If you read my first part of the story, you would know that my Ultimate Ball experience, in freshman year, wasn't absolutely horrendous. I never got the ball, back then. And I remembered it all too clearly. It was one of the most embarrassing days I've ever had. Running up and down, up and down... Acting as if I was playing the same game as them, but I was only running. Nothing more than that. I didn't want to repeat that history. I could have played it safe and made myself an end-zone player, but I couldn't bring myself to do that. How would I impress Cassidy, then? By catching a ball? What if no one shot it to me? I still wouldn't accomplish anything... For me, if I were to turn back from being a main-field player, I would be surrendering to my fears.
(If you need to look up the rules of our variation of Ultimate Ball, you can find it at the the end of the first part of my story)
[b][i]Game Start[/i][/b]
The game had begun, but not to my liking.
"Over here!" I screamed out. I was open and no one from the opposing team seemed to be between me and my teammate with the ball. But he wouldn't shoot it to me. It was Al and everyone else... [i]Why aren't they listening? Why are they blocking some of us out?![/i] The ball wasn't ever shot at me. Rather, he tried to force an opening for another jock in our team to receive his ball. Sometimes it would work, sometimes it wouldn't, but it bothered me every time. It was all happening again, the same as last year. The jocks were getting the ball and ignoring the rest. Was I supposed to just stop running around, if it wasn't getting anything done? That would be far worse. But I kept running. A point for the opposing team, a point for ours. But no ball was ever thrown at me.
We were behind a few points with about 15 minutes in. I was sweating. I remember feeling scared to even look at Cassidy. But many questions plagued me...
[i]Does she see me? Does she see my wasted effort? Does she see me trying to play, but to no avail?[/i]
I didn't want her to even glance at me.
[i]Don't look at me.[/i]
I turned towards Cassidy. And sure enough, she turned to me.
[i]Please, turn away.[/i]
And she smiled.
[b][i]A Smile That Killed Me[/i][/b]
I need to explain something first, before moving forward... When you grow up without any friends, you ultimately see your first friend as someone so incredibly special, in your eyes. For me, that was Cassidy. And when your first and only friend spends every day with you, online, all day, every day, you begin to see that person as someone even [b]more[/b] special. Again, Cassidy. And when they aren't grossed out by you having confessed to them and fear that they will stop speaking to you, but they don't, you see them as someone even [b]more[/b] special. As of now, I never place anyone in a pedestal, as I believe we're all equal. But at that time, I couldn't see Cassidy as an equal. She was always on my mind when I'd wake up, always on my mind in school, and I would always be speaking to her online, after school. How could I see someone like her, as I do with everyone else? No one else spoke with me, no one else spent time with me. In my mind, there was only one person who put up with me. Just her. And for doing all of this, I put her up on a pedestal. I was grateful for every moment I shared with her. And again, I know what I'm going to say next is gonna sound cringy, but it was the reality of how I felt. To me, Cassidy wasn't a friend, but a goddess.
That was partially why I was her lunch-time stalker... I felt like I always needed to be aware of the "goddess's" needs. Was she sad? Then I'd be sad, too, and I needed to fix that for her. Was she happy? Then, I was happy. I made my life a reflection of hers. It's weird to think about, but my creepy actions were veiled in good intentions. If I ever believed she would feel uncomfortable by any of my actions, I'd stop immediately. At the time, Cassidy's acknowledgment and happiness, was all that mattered in my life.
And so, that smile... hurt me. Her smile didn't mean she was happy. She was just acknowledging my existence in class... but what was she acknowledging, exactly? A player who couldn't amount to anything?
[i]Not like this.[/i]
I failed at nearly every sport we've played. And the year before, when I went up against The Wall, I quit basketball because I felt no one appreciated my presence in their game. This wasn't how I wanted Cassidy to see me.
The ball was passed between the jocks in the opposing team and they managed to shoot the ball to one of their end-zone players. Another point for them.
[i]Don't acknowledge me, Cassidy... not like this. Not like someone so worthless that they can't even touch the ball.[/i]
But I had noticed something.
[i]I'm so focused on being the best player in my team. I'm trying so hard to be the winner of the game, the most valuable player. And look at where that's getting me... These goals are far too high to attain. I'm not that good. I have never put in the work to get better. I have to accept that.[i]
But what could I do, then?
[i]Just touch the f**king thing[/i].
That's it. Just that.
[i]Don't grab the ball. Just touch it. Just touch the d@mn ball. Just f*cking touch it.
Don't win the game. Don't try to force a spotlight on you. F*ck all that. Just touch the d@mn ball. A godd@mn poke will suffice. Through whatever means necessary. JUST [b]TOUCH[/b] THE [b]F*CKING[/b] BALL.[/i]
[b][i]Wings[/i][/b]
It was now maybe around 20 minutes into the game when the lead was only getting further and further away from us.
[i]Find the right moment... Find the right moment to go in. It's gotta be there.[/i]
"Zack!"
A player from the opposing team was calling out to their teammate. And in that instance, that teammate launched the ball upwards, towards them.
[i]There[/i]...
Zack had decided to shoot the ball more towards the right side of the gym, while I was on the left side. But he threw the ball at a rather high angle.
[i]I can make it.[/i]
If I'd run as fast as I could, I just might make it. Speed has always been my strength. I started a mad dash towards the player readying himself to catch the ball. No one had covered him. And right as the ball hit the apex of its trajectory, I started to worry if I would reach, in time.
[i]Faster. FASTER... Just touch it. Just a touch... Just a f*cking [b]touch[/b]!!![/i]
Although it isn't recommended in any sport, I was putting all of my energy into that run, even though we haven't even reached the half-way point of the game. I was running at the ball, at almost an exact perpendicular angle, to its course. It was still some distance away and high up, but I couldn't hold on any longer. With all the speed I had picked up, I jumped forward...
Maybe it was because I've always been a fast runner. Maybe it was that I, by some miracle, hit fight or flight again, or maybe I was just getting high off of adrenaline. But at that moment, I felt I had wings. I remember feeling a gust of wind colliding with my entire body. My mom's over-sized t-shirt was flapping wildly, as I brought my arms forward.
[i]Just touch it. Touch the f*cking ball![/i]
I latched onto the ball, but kept soaring forward! In that instant, I had realized something... At the speed I was going, I would have to take one step forward to completely stop all of the momentum I had built up. And as the rules state, if I did that, I would be wasting one of my 2 steps that I could use to travel with the ball. I didn't want to sacrifice that step.
As I began my descent, I extended my left leg downwards to create some friction with the ground and to slow my body, even if just a little. Almost immediately after, I brought my right foot down as far as it could go, ahead of me. As both of my feet touched ground, I brought my hands, holding the ball, towards my right side, so I would have room to crouch down. I was doing everything in my power to shift as much of my momentum down, towards the floor, rather than ahead of me. And as I felt my weight hit the ground, I pressed hard against the floor with my right leg, to cancel out the rest of my momentum...
I had come to a complete stop without having sacrificed a step. Throughout the gym, I heard students whisper under their breaths "Woah". I'm not gonna lie, I felt like the biggest bad@ss in the room. But now, I had the ball and everyone was waiting for me to make my move. And as I did with the last year's P.E. Final, I felt like I was finally in [b]control[/b].
[b][i]All Players Are Welcome[/i][/b]
In Ultimate Ball, players try to make the most out of the two steps they take. And so, they don't take regular steps, but rather long strides. I followed suit. I examined the field ahead of me as I took my two long strides.
I felt I had a responsibility. There were players on my team that wouldn't have a chance to get the ball this game, just like what happened to me the year before. I knew how it felt to not be acknowledged in a game. I knew how it felt to feel useless. I wanted to be sure no one would feel that way, in my team. And so, I located my target for a pass.
With the momentum I had on me, I started a 3rd stride, but passed the ball before my 3rd stride would hit the ground, so that I may cover as much distance as possible. The player I gave the ball to was a regular guy in class, someone who struggled to even touch the ball, like me. He was of average build. He wasn't skinny, but wasn't obese, either. He wasn't small, but neither tall. He was just... average in every way. He took 2 long strides and successfully passed the ball to a jock. They shot the ball to one of our end-zone players and we got a point!
I felt pumped up and full of energy. I felt powerful and thought I was high off of adrenaline as the year before in my P.E. Final.
The opposing team started with the ball and was making their way down the gym. Right as one of their main-field players shot a ball at another one of their's, I blazed past the both of them to steal it! From the angle I stole the ball, I was already headed towards the correct side of the gym. Step 1, step 2, and I jumped forward to pass it to another teammate who never got the ball. We kept on forward and had earned another point!
I had recognized last year's mistake. I had placed all of the blame, from last year, on my athletic teammates, for never passing the ball to me, or the various other players who weren't too athletic. And although I still believed it was wrong of them to not have done that, I hadn't realized that it was my fault, too. Although I made myself as a main-field player, I never acted like it. On the contrary, I acted more like an end-zone player who could move around. An end-zone player waits for a ball to be given to them. But that wasn't the position I had chosen... What the hell was I waiting for? I should have never played so conservatively. If I wanted to be in the spotlight, I couldn't wait for someone to give it to me. If I wasn't given the ball, I just had to forcefully take it from the opposing team.
The game went on and the change in atmosphere was immediate. When we would get the ball, the jocks started passing the ball to me, including Al. And when I would get the ball, I'd pass it to a player who rarely ever got it, but only if they were open for a pass. I focused more on letting everyone play, rather than on winning. I believed if everyone in my team could play, then we'd win, regardless. The goal wouldn't be a victory, but the byproduct of our teamwork. This was my mindset.
But we weren't out of the woods, yet. Although we weren't getting further from the lead, we sure as hell weren't getting closer to it, either. We were probably around 5 points short (I can't remember, too well, but that's the approximation). Point being, we had to do more.
[b][i]A Dangerous Duo: An End-Zone Threat[/b][/i]
My entire team was walking back into position, on the opposition's side of the gym, as it was now the opposing team's turn with the ball. (Reminder: When a team gets a point, the opposing team starts from their end of the gym and tries to work their way to the opposing's end to shoot a point at one of their end-zone players) The opposing player who got the ball, after we scored, was Chris.
Background Information:
Name: Chris
Height: Around 5'6" (170cm)
Game Info: Opposing team. Main-field player.
Chris was pretty chubby, but not to be taken lightly. Every day I would "lunch-time stalk" Cassidy atop of a building, I've always seen him walking towards the gym, during lunch, to play basketball. Every... single... day. Despite his small height (for a guy) and big body, to believe he wasn't athletic, would be a big mistake. With his size came a lot of upper body strength. The rest of his team knew that, as they have passed the ball to him numerous times. But no one could have predicted what would occur next...
Chris wasn't taking any of his 2 steps. Rather, he was already winding up for a throw. I could already tell something wasn't right. Players are generally at somewhat close vicinity to the player with the ball and so the ball generally doesn't have to be thrown far. After all, the further the ball is thrown, the greater the chance of someone stealing the ball. And yet, here he was, doing exactly that. But to who?! We had covered all of their main-field players. Players generally take steps to try and find an opening...
I had realized too late what he was planning. He fired the ball from his hand and the ball had almost touched the ceiling of our gym. He wasn't shooting it at a main-field player... He was shooting it at his end-zone player, on the other side of the gym! (Not on the other side of the court, but the f*cking gym) Or as they would call it in American Football, a "Hail Mary pass". And because my entire team was pushed up to defend all of the opposing main-field players, no one was on the other side to defend... And no one on God's green Earth was fast enough to catch up to that ball.
[i]No f*cking way...[/i]
No one even bothered to run to the other side. No one could make that run, in time. We all just stood and watched. We could only hope that the end-zone player would fail to grab the ball and let it drop. If that were to happen, it would be our ball.
The ball was heading towards an end-zone player, named Shanice.
Background Information:
Name: Shanice
Height: Around 5'7" (173cm)
Game Info: Opposing team. End-zone player.
Fun Fact: One of the most religious girls I've ever met.
As far as I knew, Shanice never played any sports. She was, like me, skinny as a stick. The ball was moving fast, and given how high it was shot, it would be falling fast, too. Nonetheless, Shanice cupped her arms and took the ball, head-on.
I don't know if she had secretly been practicing sports, without me knowing so, or if she had prayed to God to help her catch that ball... but she had caught it and the gym roared. We were already behind as it was... this made the situation harder to deal with.
[i]F*ck[/i].
Chris was making circles with his elbow. It seemed as though that shot hurt him a bit. I wasn't strong enough to shoot a ball so far. Not even close.
The game was going back and forth. I was beginning to be seen as a threat, as I managed to steal about another 4 or 5 balls. But it was becoming abundantly clear that I couldn't keep this up forever. Exhaustion was setting in. Every moment I'd steal the ball, I would do it by accelerating to my maximum speed. It was the only way I could ever steal the ball. And so, I gave myself a routine to follow... when we were on offense, I'd do a light job to get into positions, maybe even walk quickly if I felt too tired. But during defense, I'd run to steal. But there was one player I could never seem to steal from... Matthew.
[center][b][i]To Be Continued...[/b][/i][/center]
[sep]
[i]This is Part 4. I recommend you reading the previous parts on my profile, before starting this one. They're featured.[/i]
[sep]
[b][i][u]Ultimate Ball: Sophomore Year Part 1[/u][/i][/b]
The class stood in a line and the teacher started from one end and worked his way down each student, pointing at each of us.
"1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2..."... "All of the 1's, come to this side of the gym. All of the 2's, onto the other end!"
We had all changed for the game. I wore the same thing I always wear whenever I play a sport in class: My mom's over-sized plain, white t-shirt and regular gym shorts. My mom was a pretty big woman. I was the only skinny one in my family, so her t-shirts would reach past my crotch and just look too big on me.
My team consisted of a couple of jocks, a couple of nerds, some regular kids, Cassidy, and Al. Cassidy was one of our end-zone players. Al and I, were once again, main-field players. I had come to believe that maybe Cassidy didn't like me, as boyfriend material, because we never really spoke much to one another offline. Our friendship has almost, exclusively, been online, despite us having been in the same class all year. And she was always with Sharon. Always. I could never find an opportunity to speak to her away from Sharon. And so I decided with this... for the remainder of my days with her, I'll show her a side of me that she couldn't see past a computer screen. And it would start here.
I'm not gonna lie, I remember feeling dreadfully nervous about the game. If you read my first part of the story, you would know that my Ultimate Ball experience, in freshman year, wasn't absolutely horrendous. I never got the ball, back then. And I remembered it all too clearly. It was one of the most embarrassing days I've ever had. Running up and down, up and down... Acting as if I was playing the same game as them, but I was only running. Nothing more than that. I didn't want to repeat that history. I could have played it safe and made myself an end-zone player, but I couldn't bring myself to do that. How would I impress Cassidy, then? By catching a ball? What if no one shot it to me? I still wouldn't accomplish anything... For me, if I were to turn back from being a main-field player, I would be surrendering to my fears.
(If you need to look up the rules of our variation of Ultimate Ball, you can find it at the the end of the first part of my story)
[b][i]Game Start[/i][/b]
The game had begun, but not to my liking.
"Over here!" I screamed out. I was open and no one from the opposing team seemed to be between me and my teammate with the ball. But he wouldn't shoot it to me. It was Al and everyone else... [i]Why aren't they listening? Why are they blocking some of us out?![/i] The ball wasn't ever shot at me. Rather, he tried to force an opening for another jock in our team to receive his ball. Sometimes it would work, sometimes it wouldn't, but it bothered me every time. It was all happening again, the same as last year. The jocks were getting the ball and ignoring the rest. Was I supposed to just stop running around, if it wasn't getting anything done? That would be far worse. But I kept running. A point for the opposing team, a point for ours. But no ball was ever thrown at me.
We were behind a few points with about 15 minutes in. I was sweating. I remember feeling scared to even look at Cassidy. But many questions plagued me...
[i]Does she see me? Does she see my wasted effort? Does she see me trying to play, but to no avail?[/i]
I didn't want her to even glance at me.
[i]Don't look at me.[/i]
I turned towards Cassidy. And sure enough, she turned to me.
[i]Please, turn away.[/i]
And she smiled.
[b][i]A Smile That Killed Me[/i][/b]
I need to explain something first, before moving forward... When you grow up without any friends, you ultimately see your first friend as someone so incredibly special, in your eyes. For me, that was Cassidy. And when your first and only friend spends every day with you, online, all day, every day, you begin to see that person as someone even [b]more[/b] special. Again, Cassidy. And when they aren't grossed out by you having confessed to them and fear that they will stop speaking to you, but they don't, you see them as someone even [b]more[/b] special. As of now, I never place anyone in a pedestal, as I believe we're all equal. But at that time, I couldn't see Cassidy as an equal. She was always on my mind when I'd wake up, always on my mind in school, and I would always be speaking to her online, after school. How could I see someone like her, as I do with everyone else? No one else spoke with me, no one else spent time with me. In my mind, there was only one person who put up with me. Just her. And for doing all of this, I put her up on a pedestal. I was grateful for every moment I shared with her. And again, I know what I'm going to say next is gonna sound cringy, but it was the reality of how I felt. To me, Cassidy wasn't a friend, but a goddess.
That was partially why I was her lunch-time stalker... I felt like I always needed to be aware of the "goddess's" needs. Was she sad? Then I'd be sad, too, and I needed to fix that for her. Was she happy? Then, I was happy. I made my life a reflection of hers. It's weird to think about, but my creepy actions were veiled in good intentions. If I ever believed she would feel uncomfortable by any of my actions, I'd stop immediately. At the time, Cassidy's acknowledgment and happiness, was all that mattered in my life.
And so, that smile... hurt me. Her smile didn't mean she was happy. She was just acknowledging my existence in class... but what was she acknowledging, exactly? A player who couldn't amount to anything?
[i]Not like this.[/i]
I failed at nearly every sport we've played. And the year before, when I went up against The Wall, I quit basketball because I felt no one appreciated my presence in their game. This wasn't how I wanted Cassidy to see me.
The ball was passed between the jocks in the opposing team and they managed to shoot the ball to one of their end-zone players. Another point for them.
[i]Don't acknowledge me, Cassidy... not like this. Not like someone so worthless that they can't even touch the ball.[/i]
But I had noticed something.
[i]I'm so focused on being the best player in my team. I'm trying so hard to be the winner of the game, the most valuable player. And look at where that's getting me... These goals are far too high to attain. I'm not that good. I have never put in the work to get better. I have to accept that.[i]
But what could I do, then?
[i]Just touch the f**king thing[/i].
That's it. Just that.
[i]Don't grab the ball. Just touch it. Just touch the d@mn ball. Just f*cking touch it.
Don't win the game. Don't try to force a spotlight on you. F*ck all that. Just touch the d@mn ball. A godd@mn poke will suffice. Through whatever means necessary. JUST [b]TOUCH[/b] THE [b]F*CKING[/b] BALL.[/i]
[b][i]Wings[/i][/b]
It was now maybe around 20 minutes into the game when the lead was only getting further and further away from us.
[i]Find the right moment... Find the right moment to go in. It's gotta be there.[/i]
"Zack!"
A player from the opposing team was calling out to their teammate. And in that instance, that teammate launched the ball upwards, towards them.
[i]There[/i]...
Zack had decided to shoot the ball more towards the right side of the gym, while I was on the left side. But he threw the ball at a rather high angle.
[i]I can make it.[/i]
If I'd run as fast as I could, I just might make it. Speed has always been my strength. I started a mad dash towards the player readying himself to catch the ball. No one had covered him. And right as the ball hit the apex of its trajectory, I started to worry if I would reach, in time.
[i]Faster. FASTER... Just touch it. Just a touch... Just a f*cking [b]touch[/b]!!![/i]
Although it isn't recommended in any sport, I was putting all of my energy into that run, even though we haven't even reached the half-way point of the game. I was running at the ball, at almost an exact perpendicular angle, to its course. It was still some distance away and high up, but I couldn't hold on any longer. With all the speed I had picked up, I jumped forward...
Maybe it was because I've always been a fast runner. Maybe it was that I, by some miracle, hit fight or flight again, or maybe I was just getting high off of adrenaline. But at that moment, I felt I had wings. I remember feeling a gust of wind colliding with my entire body. My mom's over-sized t-shirt was flapping wildly, as I brought my arms forward.
[i]Just touch it. Touch the f*cking ball![/i]
I latched onto the ball, but kept soaring forward! In that instant, I had realized something... At the speed I was going, I would have to take one step forward to completely stop all of the momentum I had built up. And as the rules state, if I did that, I would be wasting one of my 2 steps that I could use to travel with the ball. I didn't want to sacrifice that step.
As I began my descent, I extended my left leg downwards to create some friction with the ground and to slow my body, even if just a little. Almost immediately after, I brought my right foot down as far as it could go, ahead of me. As both of my feet touched ground, I brought my hands, holding the ball, towards my right side, so I would have room to crouch down. I was doing everything in my power to shift as much of my momentum down, towards the floor, rather than ahead of me. And as I felt my weight hit the ground, I pressed hard against the floor with my right leg, to cancel out the rest of my momentum...
I had come to a complete stop without having sacrificed a step. Throughout the gym, I heard students whisper under their breaths "Woah". I'm not gonna lie, I felt like the biggest bad@ss in the room. But now, I had the ball and everyone was waiting for me to make my move. And as I did with the last year's P.E. Final, I felt like I was finally in [b]control[/b].
[b][i]All Players Are Welcome[/i][/b]
In Ultimate Ball, players try to make the most out of the two steps they take. And so, they don't take regular steps, but rather long strides. I followed suit. I examined the field ahead of me as I took my two long strides.
I felt I had a responsibility. There were players on my team that wouldn't have a chance to get the ball this game, just like what happened to me the year before. I knew how it felt to not be acknowledged in a game. I knew how it felt to feel useless. I wanted to be sure no one would feel that way, in my team. And so, I located my target for a pass.
With the momentum I had on me, I started a 3rd stride, but passed the ball before my 3rd stride would hit the ground, so that I may cover as much distance as possible. The player I gave the ball to was a regular guy in class, someone who struggled to even touch the ball, like me. He was of average build. He wasn't skinny, but wasn't obese, either. He wasn't small, but neither tall. He was just... average in every way. He took 2 long strides and successfully passed the ball to a jock. They shot the ball to one of our end-zone players and we got a point!
I felt pumped up and full of energy. I felt powerful and thought I was high off of adrenaline as the year before in my P.E. Final.
The opposing team started with the ball and was making their way down the gym. Right as one of their main-field players shot a ball at another one of their's, I blazed past the both of them to steal it! From the angle I stole the ball, I was already headed towards the correct side of the gym. Step 1, step 2, and I jumped forward to pass it to another teammate who never got the ball. We kept on forward and had earned another point!
I had recognized last year's mistake. I had placed all of the blame, from last year, on my athletic teammates, for never passing the ball to me, or the various other players who weren't too athletic. And although I still believed it was wrong of them to not have done that, I hadn't realized that it was my fault, too. Although I made myself as a main-field player, I never acted like it. On the contrary, I acted more like an end-zone player who could move around. An end-zone player waits for a ball to be given to them. But that wasn't the position I had chosen... What the hell was I waiting for? I should have never played so conservatively. If I wanted to be in the spotlight, I couldn't wait for someone to give it to me. If I wasn't given the ball, I just had to forcefully take it from the opposing team.
The game went on and the change in atmosphere was immediate. When we would get the ball, the jocks started passing the ball to me, including Al. And when I would get the ball, I'd pass it to a player who rarely ever got it, but only if they were open for a pass. I focused more on letting everyone play, rather than on winning. I believed if everyone in my team could play, then we'd win, regardless. The goal wouldn't be a victory, but the byproduct of our teamwork. This was my mindset.
But we weren't out of the woods, yet. Although we weren't getting further from the lead, we sure as hell weren't getting closer to it, either. We were probably around 5 points short (I can't remember, too well, but that's the approximation). Point being, we had to do more.
[b][i]A Dangerous Duo: An End-Zone Threat[/b][/i]
My entire team was walking back into position, on the opposition's side of the gym, as it was now the opposing team's turn with the ball. (Reminder: When a team gets a point, the opposing team starts from their end of the gym and tries to work their way to the opposing's end to shoot a point at one of their end-zone players) The opposing player who got the ball, after we scored, was Chris.
Background Information:
Name: Chris
Height: Around 5'6" (170cm)
Game Info: Opposing team. Main-field player.
Chris was pretty chubby, but not to be taken lightly. Every day I would "lunch-time stalk" Cassidy atop of a building, I've always seen him walking towards the gym, during lunch, to play basketball. Every... single... day. Despite his small height (for a guy) and big body, to believe he wasn't athletic, would be a big mistake. With his size came a lot of upper body strength. The rest of his team knew that, as they have passed the ball to him numerous times. But no one could have predicted what would occur next...
Chris wasn't taking any of his 2 steps. Rather, he was already winding up for a throw. I could already tell something wasn't right. Players are generally at somewhat close vicinity to the player with the ball and so the ball generally doesn't have to be thrown far. After all, the further the ball is thrown, the greater the chance of someone stealing the ball. And yet, here he was, doing exactly that. But to who?! We had covered all of their main-field players. Players generally take steps to try and find an opening...
I had realized too late what he was planning. He fired the ball from his hand and the ball had almost touched the ceiling of our gym. He wasn't shooting it at a main-field player... He was shooting it at his end-zone player, on the other side of the gym! (Not on the other side of the court, but the f*cking gym) Or as they would call it in American Football, a "Hail Mary pass". And because my entire team was pushed up to defend all of the opposing main-field players, no one was on the other side to defend... And no one on God's green Earth was fast enough to catch up to that ball.
[i]No f*cking way...[/i]
No one even bothered to run to the other side. No one could make that run, in time. We all just stood and watched. We could only hope that the end-zone player would fail to grab the ball and let it drop. If that were to happen, it would be our ball.
The ball was heading towards an end-zone player, named Shanice.
Background Information:
Name: Shanice
Height: Around 5'7" (173cm)
Game Info: Opposing team. End-zone player.
Fun Fact: One of the most religious girls I've ever met.
As far as I knew, Shanice never played any sports. She was, like me, skinny as a stick. The ball was moving fast, and given how high it was shot, it would be falling fast, too. Nonetheless, Shanice cupped her arms and took the ball, head-on.
I don't know if she had secretly been practicing sports, without me knowing so, or if she had prayed to God to help her catch that ball... but she had caught it and the gym roared. We were already behind as it was... this made the situation harder to deal with.
[i]F*ck[/i].
Chris was making circles with his elbow. It seemed as though that shot hurt him a bit. I wasn't strong enough to shoot a ball so far. Not even close.
The game was going back and forth. I was beginning to be seen as a threat, as I managed to steal about another 4 or 5 balls. But it was becoming abundantly clear that I couldn't keep this up forever. Exhaustion was setting in. Every moment I'd steal the ball, I would do it by accelerating to my maximum speed. It was the only way I could ever steal the ball. And so, I gave myself a routine to follow... when we were on offense, I'd do a light job to get into positions, maybe even walk quickly if I felt too tired. But during defense, I'd run to steal. But there was one player I could never seem to steal from... Matthew.
[center][b][i]To Be Continued...[/b][/i][/center]
