Hoops and Dreams

[9] Sore loser mentality

"I'm still confused," Darnell says after I've explained it for what feels like the hundredth time. I've only gone over it twice but definitely feels like a hundred.

"That figures," I mumble. "The ball has to hit the hubcap of that car, bounce onto the streetlight over there and finally... Make it into that trashcan. Simple."

The trashcan is a few yards away from us so asking him to do just that would be too easy. A toddler could do that, blindfolded. Instead he has to hit a hubcap with enough momentum to get it to wack the streetlight hanging over the trashcan and land. The perfect trick-shot.

"I'm not throwing my ball into a trashcan," He says after a few seconds of deliberation.

"I can't help but bait him: "Fine. If you can't do it then just say that. There's no shame in it."

"Can you even do it?"

"Of course, I can," I tell him. "I wouldn't ask you to do something I can't."

It's true, I can do it. When I saw the angles of the car and the trashcan opposite my brain lit up and my first thought was trick-shot. It would make for the most incredibly satisfying basket. It would keep bothering me until I tried it and he'd given me the perfect opportunity to test out my theory.

"Then you try it first." He tosses me the ball and I can't help but grin as I catch it.

I twist it between my hands for a few seconds. Then when I feel ready, without hesitation, I toss the ball lightly in direction of the hubcap. I don't turn to look at the ball tap its way from the car to the streetlight and then almost impossibly into the trashcan. I look, instead at Darnell's open-mouthed expression as the ball hits home.

"Nothing but net." I say with a hair flip when it lands.

"It's a trashcan." He retorts.

"Buzzkill," I reply before I walk over to the trashcan to grab the ball. It's a green bin marked for paper only. I pass him the ball and he receives, thumbing over the division lines with his fingertips.

"Your turn."

"What do I get?" Darnell says twirling the ball in his hands. "For doing this. Apart from your never-ending awe and devotion."

"Isn't that enough?"

"No," He spies something over the top of my head, and his eyes literally sparkle. "I want that." He continues, pointing up.

"You want my hair?" I ask with mock horror. "Why would you want my hair?"

"Not your hair." He says. "Your hair tie. It's shiny and nothing motivates me as much as something shiny."

That may very well be true. There's probably a trophy case of spelling bee prizes that can vouch for the idea.

"Fine. If you make the trickshot—"

"When I make the trickshot."

"You get my rainbow hair tie," I say letting his interruption slide.

"And if I don't... What's in it for you?"

I smile, glad he asked. "Nothing," I say. "The satisfaction of beating you is enough for me."

He rolls his eyes and under his breath whispers whatever.

Then he turns to face the parking lot and plants his feet. When he's just about to throw the ball, I lean over and whisper-shout, "fail".

Darnell jolts and drops the ball, "Shut up, Hazel."

I laugh and raise my hands in quiet surrender. He bends over to pick up the ball again and straightens.

"Any day now," I say because why not.