Basketball diaries #1

In my basketball days, I never truly ruled the court.  I was slower then the rest, my shot always veered to the right or left missing the basket, and I may be the least competitive person to walk the planet.  You may think I'm ashamed of this, but I'm not.  My neutrality has guided me through the numerous b-ball teams I've let down.  I will never forget the evening my team played in the semi-finals.  We weren't the best, but we somehow got through with the win....

On that specific evening, I felt inspired to "rock the court."  I had just watched an awe-inspiring ESPN documentary with one of my brothers, and decided to change my perspective.  I could be that intimidating girl if I at least tried.

Now, don't misinterpret me.  I am not a lazy person.  I just get...distracted...quite easily.  I knew I could change though.  This was my time to shine...if I liked it or not. (This coming from the girl who, while in softball sat in the out field picking weeds for half the game, just liked Barbies and purple (I hated the color pink as child).

My parents drove me to the game while I sat in the back twiddling my pudgy fingers.  My dad had instructed me to do a tight fist when I got nervous.  My poor hands were pink after trying this exercise more than five times.  As we parked I could feel mom's delicious dinner making its way up from my stomach.  I was a nervous wreck.  My dad looked back at me confidently with his beautiful, encouraging smile.  "You got this sweetheart," he said with his southern draw.  That did it.  I miraculously got out of the car, and made my way to the gym...still reluctantly.

Half the team was already there.  My 5'2" coach, Coach Smith, motioned to me to hustle over to the huddle.  I jogged...reluctantly over.  I looked up to stands pretending they were all of my biggest fans...specifically looking for the cute boys.  My fourteen year old heart went pitter-patter under my bright blue jersey.  I was going to die.

The coach was saying something in the huddle...it might as well of been a different language.  I shook my head to make sure he knew I was paying attention.  Before getting out of the car, I had put a huge wad of gum in my mouth to keep mom's dinner down, and had forgotten to throw it away...I didn't believing swallowing was legal.

"God, please help me not to be put in first.  I love the bench," I prayed over and over again.  I looked up to find my dad smiling really big at me.  What a guy.  My mom was rolling her eyes over all of the needless smack talk coming from the stands.  I chewed away at my gum thinking over my escape....

There were four fire escapes.  Once the game started, they'd never miss me.  My colorful shoes laces came untied, and I crouched down tying them in bunny ears.   Over my head the team said in unison, "One, two, three gooooo Wolverines!"  I looked up.  Dang-it.  This was not a good sign.