Just Good Friends

Chapter 14

SAM's POV

The varsity girls' team were up against Pleasant View for the final tournament and we were ten points down in the fourth quarter. With only four minutes left of the game, I was determined to beat our rivals for once this season. Coach Tom had me as the center for the whole game and I would've played during all four quarters, except he didn't want me to get overworked, so I had to sit out third. That was the first mistake. The girl he put on center couldn't even dribble the ball! She kept tripping over her own feet and PV were getting a whole bunch of steals. It was horrible. That's why these last few minutes need to count!

I check the ball to my teammate and start dribbling towards the center of the court. My defender runs up to guard me. I start dribbling to the right looking for any openings; I fake right and break left, my defender right alongside me. I see that the girl that previously was the center on my team is open, but I resist passing it to her. Shuffling back to the center, my defender tells me to hurry up and I hear coach yelling at me to pass the ball. I break left and cross over to the right passing it to my teammate who shoots and (of course) misses the ball. PV gets the rebound and their center makes a three-pointer.

I rolled my eyes and hustled to the starting point to check the ball and try to run one more winning play before the time runs out. Dribbling the ball at center, I yell out number two and my teammates switch positions and fan out towards the sidelines, leaving an empty path down the middle of the court and I quickly sprint down to the basket to make a shot. While the ball was leaving my hands, I suddenly felt myself leaning forward, and pretty soon my face was smack down against the dirty court floor. The buzzer sounded and PV burst out in cheers and hugs and ran over to their coach who was smiling so big I thought his cheeks might fall off. Our coach is yelling FOUL and I look around at my teammates who look annoyed, exhausted, and ready to be done.

I get up off the floor, dusting my jersey with #1 on it, and let out a breath of steam. I can't believe this girl actually tripped me. I searched for the player that was blocking me not too long ago -- she was cheesing mad hard next to her coach who shared the same expression. Glaring at her, I marched over to the other team, pushing past the overly-tall, skinny girls who were cheering. I stood directly in front of her.

"What did you do that for?" I said, yelling a little.

The girl turns to look at her coach and laughs: "What are you talking about?"

"Don't act stupid. You tripped me before I would've made that last shot and I fell on my face!"

"You wouldn't have made that shot anyway, ha. Plus, why does it matter? We beat you guys by 15 points, get over it!" Her teammates chime in with her and shoo me away.

Before I could think of the many possibilities that this could end, Coach Tom grabs me and pulls me to the other side of the court where my team is packing up their stuff.

"Calm down! Why do you always have to start mess?"

"She tripped me, you didn't see that?!"

"Of course I saw it! And I know the refs saw it, but it ain't worth it, kid. You lost; they won. There was only ten seconds left and whether you made it or not it wouldn't make a difference," he sighs and runs his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. I hadn't noticed how gray coach's hair has gotten since I first started playing freshman year.

"So you already gave up on us?"

"Sam, you know that wasn't the best game. And maybe if you didn't hog the ball so much, your teammates might have made a shot or two... or three." He shakes his head and packs up his stuff.