The End

So, basically this is an extremely rough draft. And it's late. And I've been rushed. Anyway, this is the story I really do plan on finishing in a couple months (hopefully). And this is rough, very, very rough. And far too short. But I needed something to post for today.

I haven't had too many perfect days in my life. But for how this day was unfolding thus far, this could easily be one of them.
I had the ball in my palm, bouncing it back and forth. This game had been one of the most intense ones I’d ever played in, and I’d been playing for 12 years.
At the start, it began just like any other game; both teams hyped up and ready to give it their all. But as half time drew near, neither team was letting up. Normally, the Vikings outran and outlasted any other team we played. But this time was different. This time, the Black Hawks wanted it just as bad as we did, almost.
They made too many mistakes though. Foul after foul, we kept racking them up until it was one and one. And since then, none of us Vikings had missed a free throw shot. Fouling aside though, there were a ridiculous amount of turnovers. I don’t think I had ever seen a team get traveling called on them so many times in my entire life, my 6 year olds that I coached included. However, we had more cheap calls than I’d ever heard of too. Hand check was the ref’s favorite call, and they called it on me and my team frequently. Perhaps I was being biased though. I must be, since somehow both teams were still so close, at least according to the scoreboard.
Taking my time, I made my way down the court at a steady pace. The crowd was going insane and I could hear my team on the bench cheering us all on. I tried to soak everything in, this feeling of pure adrenaline that I was getting for being at the State Championships. Half of this crowd was here to see my team win, and I wasn’t going to let them down.
I took a quick glance at the scoreboard. The score was 43 to 42 and we were down with less than a minute to go in the game. As I continued to lolly-gag, I could feel the tension build in the arena. This was it.
I looked around the court, searching for an opening. Holding up my left hand with only my pinky and pointer finger up, I yelled out, “Longhorn!” Our best play was now underway.
Before I knew it, that opening I was searching for came. It parted like the Red Sea for Moses before me and I took my chance to take the winning shot for the title.
Dribbling with my right hand, I came in closer to the girl guarding me. She was about my same size, but I knew I was faster. As she took a fake step toward me, I spun around to my left, switching hands the ball was in and then I took off running. Just as I got my eyes on the hoop though, the girl was on me again. For some reason, I couldn't seem to shake her. I tried to find anyone to pass to, but they were all being more heavily guarded than I was. Taking a quick look at the clock, there was now less than 30 seconds left. I had to take my chance one more time as the play continued to roll.
With the ball in my left hand now, I bounced it between my legs catching it with my right, and then sent it behind my back with my right hand. Dribbling the ball left handed again, I took my stride at a diagonal toward the hoop. I prepped myself for the layup at hand.
In front of me, a double screen was taking place and I tried to steer clear of it. As I thought I missed it entirely, I placed the ball in my left hand. I took one, two, three steps with a jump and pushed off. Coming from underneath, I began a finger roll. With a flick of my wrist, I let the ball go. I kept my eye on the prize and I saw as the ball hit the backboard squarely before sinking in. I heard the buzzer go off and this feeling I’d never before experienced overwhelmed me. The adrenaline rush was immediate and my excitement couldn’t be contained for much longer.
But my elation only lasted a moment.
I was wrong. I hadn't missed all the effects of the screen, not in the least. As soon as my feet touched the ground, I received a hard shove from my right. With a crack in my ankle, I fell to the floor, screaming in pain. It was dead silent, or so it seemed to me, for all I could hear were my agonizing cries.
The next thing I knew, my coach, along with parents and the school nurse were by my side. I glanced at my ankle then, but turned away quickly as my eyes practically bulged out of my head. It was already the size of a baseball.
I could no longer hear anything around me. My head was pounding, the blood pumping rapidly. I tried to breathe calmly, but the shots of pain were overwhelming. I was going into shock and I knew it.
"Mac, can you stand up?" I heard a voice ask from somewhere. I nodded, hoping that I would be able to go to the hospital now. I needed some pain meds. And some ice.
"Alright, let's get her on her feet. We'll take her to the hospital to get some x-rays done." I recognized that voice. My dad. I turned toward where the sound of his voice came from, and when I found his face I locked my eyes with his, forcing myself to focus on something besides the consistent shots of pain.
"Here we go, Macayle. Nice and easy. Put your arms around us and we'll get going." I forced myself to breathe easier and slowly got myself up. With the help of my parents and teammates, I made it out to my car with all my gear. The door was opened for me and I slumped in, shutting the door after me. I heard a knock on the window and I manually rolled it down to let my best friend Danae hand me a bag of ice. With a pained face, I smiled at her and she just stared at me with her sad eyes. Only a fellow teammate could understand just what kind of suffering this injury was going to cause, not just physically but emotionally as well.
Once everyone backed away from the car and my parents got by their doors, I placed my head in my hands. How could this happen to me? And then the tears came.