The bartender arrived with two glasses of champagne. “We heard you just got engaged. Congratulations! This one’s on us.”
“Thank you so much.”
“You were confident I’d say yes.” Madison laughed.
The drinks must have been arranged by Emily or Jason because Ashley hadn’t called ahead, but she played along.
“Well, I told them if we looked upset and in deep discussion to not bringthem over.”
“Good thinking. On a serious note, thank you for going to my dad’s grave. That’s really sweet. It means a lot.”
“I knew it would. I left a bunch of flowers too.”
“Thankyou, baby.”
Ashley raised her glass for the second time. The thought of actually getting married—walking down the aisle in front of all their friends and family—suddenly hit her. Until that point, it had been just the proposal, an act of love that displayed her long-term dedication to be with Madison. The planning of the wedding hadn’t even occurred to her, which admittedly she knew was odd, but she’d always been a one-step-at-a-time kind of girl.
Then, like a high-speed train, Megan’s face appeared in her mind. One second, she was there, the next gone. A flash, but it was enough to trigger an invasion of the calming, joyful aura she’d tried to portray all night. The flash was enough to consume her thoughts as she smiled, composed and in the moment, but her mind had wandered elsewhere.How would Megan feel about the proposal?They hadn’t spoken in months, so did it really matter? The night was about Madison and her, about her proposal to the girl she loved. She knew better than to dwell once again on the past. Ashley determined that was easier said than done.
22
Megan
The applause from the crowd grew more intense with each second. The shot clock reset for the final time. The last possession, if run as planned, would leave just 0.8 seconds on the clock with no time-outs. The other team would have a very slim chance of taking it to overtime. Megan had been waiting for this moment for three years. Each long season came just shy of the ultimate prize, but not this time. She was determined to make sure she walked awaya champion.
The season had been played flawlessly. Twenty out of twenty wins sent The Mets through to the play-offs with ease. After beating the 8thseed Nottingham Wildcats, they advanced to the semi-finals to beat the Essex Rebels 82–79. The game took everything Megan could summon. With a stat line of 36/7/8, she carried the team into their first ever finals appearance. Now, she stood in The 02 Arena in London with upward of 10,000 fans chanting,‘defence, defence, defence’.
The Mets had been the underdogs coming in. Despite their first-place finish, they had barely any play-off experience. The newspapers spoke about how they would choke at the final hurdle, but Megan blocked out the negativity. Following in the shoes of some NBA players, she’d de-activated all her social media once they reached the play-offs. She allowed for no distractions, and up until now, it had paid off. They faced the team with the second-best record in the league and the defending champions—the London Lions. The advantage sat with them. It was their hometown and their fans outnumbered The Mets’ by 2:1.
Coach Mayer gave the team their last words of encouragement.
“This is it, the biggest 24 seconds of your playing careers. Look how far you’ve come. Look at what you’ve achieved, but are you happy to stop here? Is just being a finalist good enough for you?”
“No!” cried the team.
“Exactly! You want to be champions. You deserve to be champions. This is your time! So, here’s what we’re going to do.”
Coach Mayer demonstrated the play before the team, assigning each player an individual role that had to be carried out with fool proof precision. The buzzer sounded and Megan wandered towards centre court.
“They’re here for you.” Mayer pointed towards the WNBA scouts in the stand. “Show them what you’ve got, kid.”
She nodded. “Yes, coach.”
Megan was as ready as she’d ever been. Her body was conditioned and strengthened to the highest calibre. They’d run the play a thousand times in practice. It wasn’t rocket science, but the pressure of the moment would weigh heavy. Megan channelled the crowd, remembering the words of her youth coach—‘Never let the crowd be your disadvantage. When you’re playing away, make the crowdyour crowd’.
The score was 76–74 in favour of the Lions. The Lions had done their homework. After she hit her first two three-pointers they started closing her down on the perimeter with fierce urgency—showing her the respect she deserved. The best 3-point percentage in the league that year sat with her. The competitive edge within rose to the surface once again. All eyes were on Megan as she passed the ball to the point guard and moved towards the right side of the key. Instantly, a defender from the opposing team took an aggressive stance, blocking her path to the rim. When the small forward cut off the screen set by the centre and the power forward, Megan baseline cut to the middleof the key.
The clock was ticking; 12 seconds remained. Immediately after setting the screen for Megan to cut, they set an elevator screen to allow Megan to break through to the top of the key—4 seconds remained. Megan planted her feet. A bead of sweat gathered on the tip of her nose; the roar of the crowd silenced; the pulse in her neck throbbed; the play had been run and the final shot fell to her for the biggest catch and shoot three ofher career.
She’d run the play a thousand times in practice. She’d run it a thousand more at home, but nothing compared to that in-game feeling. It was do or die, win or lose. The hopes and dreams of her teammates sat firmly on her shoulders. In that moment, she couldn’t rely on her record-breaking 48% average that season. When it came down to it, that meant nothing.
She glanced to the left; her parents stood, frozen to the spot. Beside them was Cheryl, and two seats down sat three WNBA scouts. Cheryl had pre-warned of their arrival. They were there to watch Megan and two girls from the London Lions. Three of a potential six scouts had turned up, she wasn’t sure which teams they represented. When she turned back to the shot clock it read 3.1 seconds. She caught the ball. With no time to adjust her grip, she pulled up for the three. The opposing defender had been quick to recover from the screen and launched herself forward to attempt the block.
Megan was already in full motion. The release felt off, her technique affected by the extended arm of the Lions centre-forward. The ball soared through the air, spinning toward the rim. Megan fell backwards as she landed on the defender’s foot below. The shot clock expired as the ball hit the inner left side of the rim and went through the net.
Megan, with all the adrenaline, quickly jumped to her feet and tracked back for the final 0.8 seconds. She’d just hit the biggest shot of her career, but the game wasn’t over. The Lion’s centre launched a quarterback-style pass from one end of the floor to the other. As the ball landed in the hands of their shooting guard, the buzzer sounded. Megan fell to the floor, head in hands as her teammates swarmed her. The bench and coaching staff stormed the floor pulling Meganto her feet.
“I knew you could do it.”
