“Score!” yells the broadcaster as I get yet another dunk in the hoop. “The Warthogs are coming back to the lead!” It was the fourth quarter; we were losing by seven points. Two more shots and we could pull through. I look at the clock, it states four minutes and 36 seconds left in the game. It was going to be a close match. “And their off!” Yells the broadcaster once again. I have the ball in my clutches, “NO!” I shout as number 43, a skinny boy on the other team, snatches the ball. After a seconds hesitation I dash up behind him and snatch the ball back. He stops in that spot, face covered in shock. I ignore him and make a mad dash for the net. 22 seconds left on the clock. I jump, I shoot, and I score! “Its over! Warthogs win!” yells the broadcaster, struggling to be heard over the ecstatic crowd. They start chanting my name, but it seems to turn from “TAYLOR!” to “WAKE UP!” They just keep yelling “WAKE UP!” at me. Then my eyes flutter open and I mumble in incomprehension. “Wake up Taylor, your game starts soon.” My mother says to me. Moreover, I groan realizing it was all a dream; I did not win, at least not yet!