The Basketball, the Court, and Me

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When ever we are doing something we love, we enter another world, a world that brings out a new person. You're in a new place, a new time, and everything around you vanishes. It's just you and what you love.

That happenes to me on the court. I zone out the cheering people in the crowd, the coaches on the side line, my team mates scattered about me. It's just the basketball, the court, and me.

I enter the world that helped me along this court, the road of wins, losses, injuries, and joy. Time is running out in this world. Thirty seconds is the remaining time, and then I will be lost from this world forver.

I dribble, hearing only the steady beating of the ball against the hard, beat-up, and scratched floor. Running in rythym with my ball, I sprint down the court, passing invisible people that stand in my way.

My heart pounds faster and faster as the beating of the ball against the floor gets louder and louder. I look up, surprised to see I have zoned back in. People surround me, and I realize the quick thumping of the ball was only the cheers of the roaring crowd about me.

Stuck in the decision of the basketball court, I quickly give up the ball to a fellow player who is wide open down the court. Flying fast through the air, the balls softly lands in her hands, and she puts the ball slowly to the net. I hear the buzzer sound, but I don't see our points go up by two. I knew that the game was over.

Gloating hard, the other team wickedly smiles at us, showing off their victory as if it was an Olympic medal. We hang our heads, disappointed so much that we just want to hide under blankets and never come out. The loss makes us want to give up.

I smile while shaking the other players' hands, but there's a part of me that just wants to cry and say that it's unfair of them to act that way and that we should have won that game. No. That's not what good sports do.

That world I love was long gone. It was only a memory or a dream by now. I can't seem to find it again. Not in a million years.

The next game rolls by, and I'm stuck with the ball. I dribble, hearing the same rythym beating loudly in my world. It's just the basketball, the court, and me.





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