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I set my hands on my waste breathing in through my nose as my chest pounds, coming to a stop. The tightness from the last few hours running back and forth down the court. It’s nothing I’m not familiar with but today it’s even more snug.
Eyeing my teammates, I cough out a lungful of air. They all have similar reactions. No one said anything the entire time, but we all felt it. This is it, and it’s sobering.
Coach faces out at everyone else. Voice as dry as his personality when he speaks. The exact opposite of his whistle.
“I know what you’re all thinking, but I won’t allow this attitude come game day. This is a solemn moment for some of you. A conclusion to years of hard work and dedication to your friends, your community, and your team.”
He takes his time looking around at each of us, especially the seniors before continuing.
“This might be our last practice, but I don’t want that to diminish the efforts you’ve put into building a legacy for this school. You’ve worked hard and it shows. You all should be proud of yourselves no matter what happens after this next game. I know what you boys are capable of.”
People bounce on the balls of their feet. Others roll back their shoulders in anticipation.
I stay still, resolute.
Focused.
Coach’s words grow stern as he throws his arm in our circle. “Now let’s go and bring home that win tomorrow night.”
Boone’s words turn gruffer. Dropping almost to a growl and I wonder if that’s because he’s trying to cover the emotion I hear thickening his tone.
The man could be a dick, but he’s a good coach. He put in as much time and effort as the rest of us. This win will equally be his and ours.
Hollers break out within our small circle. Our chant starts slow but grows like our desire to win.
The facts are we’ve come this far and anyone else would be proud, but I want more. That title’s ours and I don’t lose.
We’re close, victory only the tip of our team’s achievement. For years we’ve played sacrificing our time, putting in the hours, and dedicating ourselves. All for this.
Sure, we’ve come close to getting this far in the past but now, in our last year at KPA, we’ll be able to say we’ve finally earned it.
“I said, are you ready?” he repeats, louder, as our howls grow more intense. Our rhythm as steady as my knowledge in knowing we can’t lose.
With our knuckles all still placed in the center, I catch Coach’s brief glance. The look only for me as I nod. It’s curt, but it’s all that’s needed.
A quiet understanding passes between us. As captain, he’s counting on me more so than the others. To be a guide, a leader, same as I do every other time I step out on the court.
The extra pressure is on me as soon as my feet cross the line.
I’m ready.
The added strain a welcome friend.
This time I’m the one to speak. Anticipation hums, like jolts of lightning coursing from one closely knit body and moving to the next. We all sense it.
“Who are we?”
“KPA,” they all chant back with the same deepness.
“What do we want?”
“The win!”
I raise my voice, unconvinced. “What do we want?”
“THE WIN!”
The simple sentence looped over and over as our arms lower before rising over our heads. More shouts ring out as we break apart.
