Basketball Dreams

         Twenty-two years of hard work, dedication, and many, many camps, has led to this moment. Her debut. Her time to shine. Her family was seated precariously in the stands, perched on the edge of their seats, holding their breath in anticipation for the big moment.

         The band began to pump the SVSU fight song, charging the fans’ neurons with adrenaline. Roberta’s heart pounded to the thud, thud, thud of the mesmerizing tune, commanding the team to victory. She lunged, poised and ready as the orange ball dropped to the floor and the ensuing squeak squeak squeak began to fill the gymnasium.

With the ease and wings of an angel of grace, Roberta flew across the gleaming floors as if she were on wispy clouds elevating herself to holy echelons. Her limbs were fluid, breathing was steady, and forehead glistened with the simplest sheen. The small shell tattoo upon her ankle was the only imperfection on her flawless porcelain skin, and drew spectators’ eyes to her fancy footwork. She was the main focal point of the squad. She was the object of every available male’s attentions.

The team was scattered like mushrooms on a pizza – hidden behind the folds of cheese - aka the bigger girls - and drops of pepperonis – the fast, spicy girls that sped up and down the court.

The coach looked to her. She could see him eyeing up her potential. Ready to call her in.

“Time out!” He growled, angered by the 16-point deficit that loomed in red, neon letters.

         The team huddled up, and Roberta squeezed herself into the mix.

         “Y’all suck. Get the ball. Block the shots. And RUN!” He barked like a rabid pit bull. “Roberta!”

         “Yes, Coach,” she responded eagerly.

         “Do your job and get the damn water. Now!”