Two minutes fifty-six seconds left on the clock. My hands are sweaty and my heart is racing. It's regionals and the rest of the girls on the bench are screaming, along with the crowd.
Everyone had fowled out except for me and another teammate. I felt a tear run down my cheek as my coach calls timeout again. She says to give it our all, we are down by five and our rivals still have a whole five players on the floor. I feel like losing hope as I throw the ball towards my remaining teammate.
My heart sinks as we go into overtime. We get the ball. I stand staring at this orange centerpeice of the whole night in my hands with it's delicate grooves, as I think about all the hours of practice. Then I snap back to reality. I have only one person to throw it to but she's blocked completly. I hurdle the ball as far as I can down the court, hoping the other team doesn't pick it off and they don't.
As the buzzer sounds I look up at the score board. It still shows we are down by five. I walk toward the locker room and my coach. She tells the team that next year will be better, I just sigh.
Regionals aren't over, though, just for my team. We stay to watch the next game but it kills me. Everytime someone says "Good game" I can fell the tears well up. I never once thought basketball could be so emotional.