...smile because it happened...

#3- Win or Loose, Carry Yourself with Pride

As we are warming up, the other team walks in. They are huge tall girls with matching gym bags and grim faces. We are playing the Bailey Bears and they have an undefeated season so far. I watch as they walk into our gym and start to warm up. I shift my attention to the stands that are filling up with South West and Bailey parents and fans. Even before the game has started, there are young children running along the higher bleachers or whining that they are bored and want to be taken home.

Bailey's caption, a girl who I went to middle school with is named Clarissa Maria Sopanno. I see Clarissa walk into our gym surrounded my friends and her parents. As her friends drift off to sit on the bleachers or warm up, I keep watching her. Clarissa's dad, Mr. Sopanno, is actually a really nice guy. As I watch, he leans down to Clarissa and gives her a hug, a big bear hug, a hug that reminds me of my dad. I look away quickly and go sit down next to my coach.

"Daly. You know here don't you?" Coach Moore asks, his eye crinkled with excitement for the game ahead of us.

"Yeah, we went to the same middle school. We played together there." I said.

"Is she any good?"

"No."

"Good."

Just as we finish out conversation, the rest of the team comes up, ready to go.

"All right girls, listen up. We are running that new offense we worked on yesterday in practice ok?" We all nod at coach and he continues, "We are coming out in a press and a man-to-man defense. Watch number 12, she's scored most of their points this seaon. Jamie you ready to go?"

"Yes Coach." I say, eyeing our basket, concentrating on what is about to happen.

"Ok girls, lets go. Remember, we loose and our season is over. O. V. E. R. Is that understood?"

We all nod nervously. The four other starters (Emily, Britta, Naya, and Isa) get in our positions for jump ball. Because Britta is the tallest, she gets ready to jump just as the Bailey starters walk onto the court. The ref walks to the center. He is a tall man with barley any hair left. His mouth is set in a firm line but his eyes seem kind. He blows his whistle, throws the ball in the air, and the game has started.

The Bailey jumper is short so Britta easily grabs the ball and shoots it over to Naya who passes to Emily who passes to me. I catch the ball and look around the court. I have two defenders on me, a short blonde (#32) and Clarissa, her long brown ponytail swings as she starts to talk.

"Long time no see Jamie. How have things been?" Her voice is sarcastic and mean. And I have a game to win so I ignore her.

Someone has to be open. I think. I have two defenders on me, someone has to be open! There! Emily! I give Emily a clean bounce pass which she catches and starts dribbling. My short blonde defender moves over to guard Emily and so I take advantage of the fact that I am faster than Clarissa. I cut to the basket, Emily sees me an delivers a perfect pass which I catch and shoot a layup. Just as the ball is leaving my hand though, Clarissa catches up and slams into me from behind!

"FOUL!" The ref calls, as I am knocked to the ground. "Blue, #37, with a hit! White, number 34, on the line! Two shots!" I move to the foul line and wait to receive the ball.

The ref passes me the ball and I go through my routine, just as always. Dribble one, two, three, four times, switching hands. Deep breath, look up and shoot!  The ball swishes through the net with a perfect swish sound! Now just one more time Jamie, come on you can do this!  My second shot banks off the backboard before going in as well. Awesome.

{---}

We end up beating Bailey 76-68! I have 25 points, of which I am very proud of! After the game, as we are celebrating and putting away chairs and balls, Clarissa comes up to me.

"Daly." She says, stiffly.

"Sopanno." I reply, in a similar manner.

"I hate you and I hope you know that Jamie. Our season is over because of you. You are a bitch. " Clarissa sounds as though she is on the verge of attacking me.

"You know Clarissa, you always were a sore loser. I see that trait has continued through to high school. How charming."

Our conversation has gathered a small audience, three of the Bailey players and six of my teammates have gathered around us, watching.

"Excuse me! You are a little..."

Clarissa's string of soon to be curse words is cut off by Coach Moore who walks over just then.

"Ladies, is there a problem?" Coach asks.

"Yes, coach there is." Clarissa says, and all the eyes in our audience, including mine, turn to stare at her.

"Really? What seems to be the problem?" Coach Moore asks in a perfectly calm and cheerful way that I can tell is aggravating Clarissa.

"Your star player here, Jamie Daly, called me a sore loser." Clarissa says this with a sneer on her face and turns to look at me, triumphantly.

"Coach..." I start to protest but I am interrupted.

"Jamie is this true? Did you call this girl a sore loser?" Coach asks me.

"Yes." I mumble.

"What is this young ladies name?" Coach asks.

"Clarissa."

"Right ok, so when you called Clarissa a sore loser, you must have had a reason to do so and if I know you at all Jamie, and I believe I do, your reason for calling Ms. Clarissa a sore loser would be simply that she is a sore loser, is that not correct?"

I look up at Coach, surprised. "Um yes Coach, you would be correct." I stammer, barely believing my ears.

"And Jamie, what is it that I always say about winning and loosing?"

"Sportsmanship is when a person walks off the court and you can't tell if they won or lost, they carry themselves with pride either way." I said, smiling happily at Clarissa.

"That would be correct Jamie. Now, Ms. Clarissa, as you seem unable to carry yourself with pride, despite your defeat, I am going to have to ask you to leave my gym. Go. Now."

I watch, completely surprised as a mortified Clarissa walks across the gym floor followed by her posse of friends and parents.

"Well." Isa said.

"Well." I said.

"Well." Coach Moore said."

And that was that. We won. But Clarissa's dad got to see her play. The lucky son-of-a-bitch.