16-19. We were down by 3 points. I glanced at the clock. Five more seconds, until the end of the game. I thought in no way could we win. The best we could do was tie and go into overtime.

I motioned my hands toward my teammate. “Here—here—here,” I yelled.  She saw me from the other side of the court. She blasted the ball into my hands. My frozen cold hands. I took the ball from my firm grip, and began to dribble down the court.

The crowd was cheering. “Go! Go! Go!” I sped up my sprint down the court. My heart was pounding, my legs were wobbling, my hands were trembling.  I reached the three point line.

Two seconds remaining.

I take one step over the three point line, then one step back and shoot. The crowd goes silent. This is it the final shot that would determine if we still have a chance to win. The ball reaches the rim of the hoop. It circles around and around the rim until…the ball drops in.

BUZZ!!! The game ends. Everyone cheers. Then our coach calls us over, and starts telling us the next group of girls that were going out to play. What? I was thinking.  Why is she?  Oh.  I then realized it was only the third quarter.

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