His eyes are closed; he can feel the wind rushing around his ears. He can hear the loud noises all around him. He looks up at the clock to check the time; he begins counting down, whispering to himself. He feels tired as if he has been running for hours. A cold sweat comes dripping off his head splashing onto the cement floor beneath him. A glance into his eyes, you can tell he is ready for what's ahead of him. Excitement jolts through his body as if lightning had struck him. He can feel his Nikes gripped onto his feet, laces tied tight. He is ready to pounce, ready to go to war with whoever attempts to stop him.
His eyes slowly open, finding his target. "Three..." he starts to whisper to himself. He lets the leather ball bounce to the floor from his fingertips as he quickly crosses over to get open. "Two..." He is open, no one around him. "One..." He rises up to shoot, the state championship in his hands, all eyes on him, the stress, the pain, the work, the happiness, the relief, the blood, sweat, and tears this team had put in through the year was all on his shoulders and racing through his mind. Swish... “And the crowd goes wild," he whispers to himself, as he raises his hand in the air, index finger fully extended.
"Come inside and shower, you got your first day of high school tomorrow, you need some sleep." "Okay mom," he shouts, "I'm coming." He walks toward his house. When he gets to the front door, he turns and looks back at the basket, smiles and proceeds inside.