Trust me?

Thank you, Adam

I think I'm floating. I don't think I'm actually in my own body. Logically, I know my legs are moving from beneath me, and I know that there's an entire crowd in the stands in front of me. And I know that my biggest rival is standing less than 2 meters away from me. But I still don't feel real.

Literally speaking, I know that my knee has only just been re-set, but with the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I don't feel a single thing.

After I ran out of the ball cupboard, Coach basically told me that he'd listen to whatever lame excuse I had later, and that I was on the starting team. Who were coming on court in the next 15 seconds. Then, in the most endearing way somebody could, he shoved me out onto the court.

Gladstone High is not only my school's sworn rival, but also houses my own personal opponent, Jenna Atkins; Jenna was actually the one to hate me first.  She decided that the minute I stepped onto a court with her when we were playing for our region 5 years ago, that she would stop at nothing to destroy me. Unfortunately, we have similar playing styles, and always get stuck marking each other, this time though, I'm coming out victorious.

We also both happen to be the tallest of the teams that are currently on, so the game starts with the jump ball being tossed between two sworn enemies. I give her a quick look, before focusing in on the ball, when I feel a sharp pain on my rib, which I very quickly recognise as Jenna's elbow, a very familiar sensation. I don't allow this to impact my headspace, and use the anger to push myself further up, and I manage to flick the ball to my teammate, Amaya.

Amaya dribbles the ball for a moment, before passing it to another teammate. The ball is tossed around a couple times before making its way back into my hands. I welcome the familiarity of the ball in my palms. Assessing the situation, I can see a gap right under the basket. There's an obvious hole in their defence, and I'm gonna use it. I give Amaya the signal to screen me, and she instantly runs up to the side of Jenna, blocking her from getting to me. I use the distraction to break through and score a layup. 

The shot was nothing impressive, but the crowd still goes wild. It's always motivating when your team scores first. I'm determined for us to keep this up.

Except when play resumes, Gladstone have cranked up their intensity. Their point guard runs the ball up the court, and I don't manage to call for help to defend quick enough, and the ball is lost. I mentally kick myself for letting something so obvious slide.

The team we have on right now isn't meshing; me and Amaya work well together, but everyone else isn't following our style of play. Either that, or they're panicked. I try motioning to coach to sub them off, but he just shakes his head. Come on. He knows I'm right, so why won't he just sub them? He's probably trying to conserve some of our better players for later on, but it's still annoying.

 The quarter goes on, and both teams take turns scoring, and when I glance at the scoreboard, it reflects the to and fro nature of the game. I'm keeping my temper in check, but Jenna is starting to notice my frustration. I pull a neutral expression onto my face.

The first quarter ends on the frustrating score of 17-17. Both Jenna and I were the top scorers of our respective teams, and neither of us are backing down one bit. Some subs are made, but still not the people I want on. What are you playing at, Coach?  We need to pull ourselves together, regardless of who's on court; I give a smile which I hope is encouraging to my team.

The second quarter begins, and Jenna is using the same tactic as she always does, dirty play. I don't know how she gets off with it every time, but I'm desperately trying to not let it get under my skin. After her team gets a basket, I make a fast break up the court, in the knowledge that Jenna is right behind me. Yet again, I feel a pain, this time in my ankle, and within moments I'm on the ground, and Jenna's smug face is above me, ball in hand.