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Brooke and I gasp.
The other guy gets up first, but Clay doesn’t move.
Denver calls a time out.
The other Kodiaks jog over to help him up. It takes far too long for him to rise, and far too much help from the other guys.
He tries to walk it off, but when his gaze finds mine, I know.
He’s hurt.
“It’s okay,” I say under my breath. “Trust them.”
Clay turns away.
“This is the worst timing.” Brooke says what every person in the arena is thinking as the final seconds of the quarter expire. “They have twelve minutes to pull out something magical.”
The huddle is intense, every head bowed together as the coaches and players confer.
The ref blows the whistle, and Clay stays on the bench.
But when the other Kodiaks take the floor, it’s with a new energy.
Everyone chips in.
Jay grabs a steal from Isaac.
Rookie runs circles around the LA defense, cutting into the pain to get a drop-off pass from Atlas, who’s moving his feet better than I’ve seen all season.
Miles lurks in the corners and sinks two three-pointers in the first shift.
It’s working.
But LA is bringing their game up, too.
In the final two minutes, it’s neck and neck. Both teams have ramped up their defences, stopping multiple attempts in a row.
At sixty seconds, it’s still tied.
Thirty.
Twenty.
Ten.
LA calls a time out to draw up a play, but it’s Denver that makes the first substitution.
I’m wiping a hand over my own sweating forehead when Clay rises from his seat and strips off his jacket and tearaway pants.
“What is he doing?” Brooke demands.
“He’s going back out,” I whisper.
He’s not operating at full capacity. I can tell, and so can everyone else in here.
But they have a plan.
When the time out is over, LA inbounds the ball over Miles to Isaac, who takes off toward the basket.
