Short Stories for Short Attention Spans

The Big Shot

Doug Madison had gotten quite comfortable in his seat at the end of the bench. As the 14th man on the Lawson Leopards, currently the fifth-best high school team in the district's division (out of a robust seven teams), he usually didn't make it into the games. Truth be told, he had never made it into a game.

He didn't mind, though. Just being on the team was cool enough. At practice, his teammates called him Dig Doug, because of his penchant for chasing after opposing players, like they were monsters in the arcade game of a similar name. And because one time he spent the entire practice excitedly talking about a time capsule he had buried in the park earlier that day.

Doug wasn't enjoying this game very much, though. The Leopards were facing off against the Town Park Toros, who had only lost two games all season. Tonight would not be the third. The Toros had a 52-point lead by halftime, and as the third quarter came to a close, the score was 84 to 21.

The first one on his feet to greet his teammates was Doug. The horn had barely sounded to signal the end of the quarter, and he was already at halfcourt, slapping hands and giving encouraging chatter. He had lost count of the number of times he had said "let's go!" or "you can do it!" during the season. He knew what part to play on the team–that of the lovable goof that could lift spirits up even in the darkest of times.

"Thanks, Doug," Rufus Ledletter said, lightly bumping Doug's outstretched fist. Rufus was the star senior on the team, but, like the rest of the Leopards, was having a rough night. He had missed his first 11 shots, and was currently just sitting at four points. He hadn't scored fewer than 10 in any game this season.

Hurriedly, Doug ran over to Coach Morris, who was dejectedly scribbling a play on his miniature dry-erase board. Halfway through, the ink ran out in his marker. It was a beautiful symbol of how terribly this game was going.

Coach Morris sighed heavily. He looked at his players. "Just don't screw up too badly, okay?"

The five players taking the court headed back out there, and Doug clapped wildly. After a moment, he realized he was still standing on the court, and everyone else had already taken their seats on the bench. He scuttled back to his spot at the end.

With about three minutes remaining in the game, the Leopards had actually closed the gap. It was now 95-38. Rufus had just scored to reach 10 points, continuing his streak of double-digit performances.

"Madison," Coach Morris called out. "Get in there for Ledletter."

Doug heard the words, but they didn't register. He took a sip of water and kept looking out towards the court.

"MADISON!" Coach Morris bellowed. "You're going in! For Ledletter."

Doug froze. This was uncharted territory. Sure, he had played during practice, but in an actual game?! He looked in Coach Morris's eyes, hoping for some sort of sympathy.

"Well?" Coach Morris said, smacking his gum across his lips. "Get going!"

Doug got up and trudged over to the scorer's table. Maybe he wouldn't even make it in the game. After all, the clock was ticking down, and if there wasn't a foul or a turnover or a timeout, he'd just stay at the scorer's table and not have to go in the game. That wouldn't be so bad at all.

*THWEEEEEEET!*

The whistle blew. So much for that. The Leopards had committed a foul, so Doug was coming in. He got up from his crouching position at the table and started jogging onto the floor, his knees buckling with each step. He pointed at Rufus.

"R-Rufus," he stammered, his voice cracking. "I'm coming in for you."

Rufus came over to him and gave him a pat on the chest. "Hey man, breathe. It's just basketball."