14-13. That was the score on the board.

We had won 2 out of three of our games,
and our team needed one more point,
one more point to make our last game a marvelous one.
I craved Victory so much I could already taste it.
The ball came flailing over the net right at me,
and it had been a spike.
I take my approach and wait.
The crowds of people screech and chant for me to get it to the setter.
My coach stands up biting her fingernails while taking
small breaks to scream at me about squaring up around the ball.
It was like the world stopped into a slow motion
scene playing in a movie.
The gym lights despise me.
They shine down on the waxy wooden court with persistence to
blind me.
All five of my teammates stare as the ball comes flying at me in rage.
The other team look pleased with themselves,
the girl who had just hit stood beaming in all of her glory.
I can’t help but think ahead if what we had
was destroyed.
I see my team’s faces filled with disappointment now,
and the coach patting me on the back telling me it
would be ok, but it wouldn’t be.
If the team had gotten the ball,
their best server would start,
and most likely the other team would win.
I snapped out of the despised thought
of our loss.
I had put on my full fledged game face and gotten low,
determined to get the ball to the setter so I could then
spike it back at the boasting team.
The pass was just right.
As I lifted my legs up and my arms directed to the setter,
I could feel the tension in the air.
The setter had used the advantage,
and set me up to perfection.
Adrenaline rushed through my body.
Left foot, right foot,  then together, and jump.
I feel my feet fly off of the ground,
and my vertical reaches to its full potential.
My arm swings back past my head and circles around again.
CRACK!
The ball smacked against the gym floor.
The crowd screaming, teammates cheering, and popcorn being thrown
out of bags as they stand up to clap had all shown, 
we had won the game.
Our team comes into a single file line, and walk on our side of the net
to tell them good game.
Their faces are smeared with sweat and tears.
We both knew how hard we had fought for the win,
and we both had deserved triumph.
The smell of perspiration fills the air from soggy knee pads and shoes.
I smile through the beads of sweat streaming down my face.
I could hear the applause from the bleachers,
I could see my team hugging each other and smirking with pride,
I could feel my disbelief melt. 
and I could finally savor the achievement.
Who knew that victory could taste so sweet?