Them Boys | Teen Ink

Them Boys

October 28, 2014
By Anonymous

Headlights shone through the dark of night. Cars stopping and starting, all heading towards the same place. The Palace of Auburn Hills illuminated the dead of night. Cars jam packed like sardines in a once-vacant lot. I walked through a set of doors, hundreds of people pouring in all around me. Excitement hung in the air as my ticket was scanned by a security guard. I swam through the crowd, like a fish trying to go upstream. I found my entrance, walking down the long stairs in search of my seat. My ticket was checked yet again before I could sit in my seat. I walked a little farther down, and then shuffled in-between seats to get to mine. I scooted into my seat, right next to where the players came out, waiting in anticipation to see the players.
My heart beat quicker as I realized how soon I would be seeing some of my favorite players. The first was a 7ft Spaniard.  His name was shouted by many people, pens being held out to him, all in hopes of a scribble on a piece of paper. He reached me, and I held my hat and pen towards him. I was so happy that I had gotten his autograph. There were many more after him, Jodie Meeks, Jordan Hill, Wesley Johnson and Nick Young aka Swaggy P. I was so excited for getting the autographs, but I held it in as I leaned back in my seat, waiting for the game to start.
The stadium darkened, spotlights illuminating the players as their names were called out in the dark. “Koooooobbeeeeeee Bryyyyyyyyyyaaaaaannnnt!” The crowd roared, a deafening tidal wave of sound. The rest of the team was announced, and the game began.  I was on the edge of my seat, my heart racing each time Kobe touched the ball. A midrange jump shot, a twisting layup in the lane, the points began to accumulate. The clock counted down, the first half coming to an end. Kobe had the ball in his hands, dribbling down the court. A defender came out to guard him, so Kobe crossed over, went behind the back, crossed back over between his legs and released a three in the same motion. The basketball seemed to flow off of his fingers, his world in equilibrium.  His defender didn’t matter, the time didn’t matter, only the hoop and the basketball mattered.  The ball soared through the air before swishing through the basket. The crowd roared once again, and all I could do was smile.



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