by PN Books
"It doesn't matter." She laughed. "So how was the game?"
I went on to fill her in on the game.
"But you didn't play?" She scrunched up her face.
"No, but that's okay because I'm playing in the finals."
"You got this." She said confidently.
"And how do you know that?'
"Because all you talk about is basketball. One of these days when you're playing professional, I'm going to be watching you, knowing that you belong on that court."
"You are going to be right by my side."
"Down on the court with you?" She joked.
"You know what I meant. You are still going to be my girl."
The first game of finals, we lost. We were bummed but it made us play even harder. We got to the second game and we annihilated them. Then the momentum went on and we beat them in the third game. We lost the fourth game by two points in OT, but now we were home for the final game. It was nice to be at our home court. When we win, everyone is going to cheer and help us celebrate and on the .00001% chance that we lose, they’ll help us get over it.
“Here we are.” Coach paced the locker room. “The last game.” He sighed. “I am not going to get into how important this game is, you already know that. I’m just going to thank you guys for putting in the effort to get us here. You guys went from playing okay to playing like seasoned veterans. I know that some of you on this team are seniors and this is your last time playing with us, I thank you for that. I also know that some of you playing have many more years to go, but still I want you to take advantage of this moment.
“Let it sink in where we are and know that we can be here again if we all work hard. I’m not going to tell you guys to win this, I’m simply going to say … play hard. They are going to be playing hard too and you know what to do when they do that? You play even harder.” He pointed at us with his clipboard.
The game started and we went out there. Aaron and I exchanged looks. Now that I was playing again, we were back using our double team plays against the teams. They would block one of us and the other would get out and make the shot. Every time they tried to block both of us, we would just find a way out. We were not going to give up. We wanted this win badly, we needed this win badly. The stands were full and I knew that there were NBA scouts in the stands. The Coach didn't have to tell us, the announcers for the game let us know it. The camera kept panning over to them. They were a lot of them there. Tonight was our chance to get drafted.
By the time the second quarter got around, we were up by only three points. We felt tired and ragged, but we kept pushing on. I tried for another three-point shot hoping to advance the lead, but it bounced off. I didn't give up, though. When I saw one of my players rebound the ball, he passed it back to me and this time, my three-point shot when in. The crowd cheered and I slapped high fives with my team members. We were doing it. We were playing great. It got down to the final quarter and there was one minute remaining on the clock. We were down by two points. The plan was to either hit two layups, so that we could be up by two points or to hit two threes. We had to do whatever go get the win.
Aaron and I were both out of breath. We barely sat down to rest this whole game. It meant too much for the both of us.
"You got it?' I asked as I saw him breathing hard.
"Do you?" He laughed looking over at me.
"What you want to do?" We looked back out at the court. Our final timeout was almost done.
"I think we can do it back-to-back." He mentioned a play that he and I made up when we first started on the team. We never really played it with the whole team before. Right now it would be really risky to try something new, but where else would we do it?
"You sure?' I asked.
"Positive." He smiled and we went to inform the team.
The buzzer went off and it was time for the game. We had the ball and as soon as it was on the court, our play went into the action. The ball was passed over to Aaron and he sank a three. The crowd went wild. The other team had the ball and one of our best defense players stole the ball from them and passed it to me. I got the ball, made it to the hoop and sunk in a layup. We were now up by four with thirty seconds on the clock. The other team called their timeout.
Aaron and I sat down and took a deep breath. We gave each other a pound and leaned back in the chairs.
"Go B-Wood!" Simone's voice managed to get over all the other loud noise and commotion. I turned around and saw her sitting there five rows behind me. She smiled and waved, and I smiled back.
The buzzer for the timeout came back and it was the other team's ball. They tried to make a shot, but on instinct, I flew up into the air and blocked it. That's when the final buzzer went off. By the time my feet hit the ground, we were champions.
THE END
Another bonus story is on the next page.
Bonus Story 13 of 15
Ball Girls a Ball Game
“Polkowski, get in there,” Coach Matthew's voice boomed on the sidelines.
Lauren took a deep breath and closed her eyes. This was the moment she been waiting for. It was finally here. She would have a chance to take the game-winning kick.
She strapped on her helmet and ran onto the field. The crowd went wild. 75,000 people. All of their eyes locked on her, their hands clapping loudly, voices reaching a fever pitch. Within seconds, they grew quiet. The entire stadium held its breath. This was history. She was making it. The first female football player in the 60-year history of the NFL.
She eyed the flags hanging from the goalposts. Not much wind. Perfect conditions. 42 yards. It wasn't a short kick. But it was well within her range. She closed her eyes again and went through her visualization exercises. Everything in her life had prepared her for this moment. The only thing that was missing, the only thing that would've made this triumphant moment absolutely perfect, was if her father was here, cheering wildly, screaming himself hoarse, gnawing his fingernails down to the flesh. That's what he’d always done. Whether he showed up sober or drunk,ever since her first football game. She had beenbarely 6 years old, hadn't even started school yet, but she’d already begun to develop a passion for football.
“You ready?” The Holder asked.
She smiled and nodded confidently. She would make it. She could already see the ball going through the uprights. She could already see and feel her teammates mobbing her, swarming her, lifting her up on their shoulders and carrying her off the field. She would be a hero. But even more importantly, she would be one of the guys. That's what she’d always wanted. Just one of the guys, not some circus freak or sideshow spectacle, a publicity stunt pulled by the team, meant to bolster their image with female fans.
All she had to do was hit this kick. Knock straight through the uprights.
“Hut one. Hut two. Hut, hut, hike!” The Center snapped the ball to the Holder. He caught it cleanly, put it down, and turned the laces towards her.
Perfect.
She took three steps towards the ball, pulled her leg back and struck it. Perfect.
That's what it felt like when it left her foot. The entire stadium grew quiet. Everyone's eyes fixed on the ball as it cut through the air. Lauren held her breath and followed the flight of her kick with wide-open eyes. So much was riding on this.
It’d felt so good when it left her foot, but as it sailed through the air, it began to bend to the left. Whenever something like that happened, Lauren would shift her body in the direction that she needed the ball to travel, trying to will the pigskin back to its proper trajectory.
It was bending, heading towards one of the goalposts. Lauren held her breath. Every muscle in her body tensed. She could hardly bear to look.
CLANG!
The ball slammed loudly against one of the goalposts. Then fell precipitously down to the field. The entire stadium gasped.
The referees waved their arms over their heads.“No good. The kick is no good.”
*****
The stadium was coff
in silent, except for the celebrations of the opposing team. The Stallions. Their archrivals.
They’d lost the game. Lauren had blown her chance, the biggest chance of her football career – the chance that would've put her in the history books. She would've been more than just the first female player in NFL history, more than just an interesting talking point. She would’ve been the first female kicker to kick a game-winning field goal.
But she’d blown it.
She undid her chinstrap and walked off the field, dejected. She shook her head and mumbled under her breath, wracking her brain, confused, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. As she trudged towards the team tunnel, several of her teammates came up to her, showing their support, trying to reassure her that the loss wasn't her fault.
“Don't worry about it.”
“You’ll get them next time.”
“Keep your head up.”
They were thoughtful and kind. Lauren tried to smile through the pain and disappointment. They were good teammates, doing what they were supposed to do. Of course, a loss was never one player's fault. And it never came down to just one play. There’d been so many mistakes, so many opportunities missed on both offense and defense.
But no one would be talking about that, and Lauren knew that all too well. All the media coverage would be focused on her, her miss, her failure. That's all anyone would be talking about. It wouldn't be fair, but fair didn't count for much in the high-stakes world of professional football.
Her $2 million salary and numerous lucrative endorsement deals were not being given to her as acts of charity. She had to go out every day and earn her keep, just like everyone else. And she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Lauren walked down the tunnel, heading for the locker room. She wasn't looking forward to seeing her teammates or the media, especially the media. They would swarm her locker.
And of course, they wouldn't just limit themselves to football questions. No, that was definitely not their style, at least not the national and international press. The local reporters seemed to show more respect for her privacy and personal life. They usually stuck to the football questions.
"Your other two kicks were great," a sweet-sounding voice said.
Lauren looked up, surprised. She didn't recognize the voice. But she definitely recognized that long blonde hair, those skinny, unblemished legs and the tantalizing cleavage busting out of the tight top. Cara. One of the cheerleaders. No, Cara was more than one of the cheerleaders. She was the most attractive and desired cheerleader in the troupe. And she just happened to be dating Cody Zeller, the team’s hunky, superstar quarterback. Plenty of guys on the team wanted to get their hands on her. But most of them were smart enough to avoid even looking at her. Nothing good would come of letting their eyes or their minds linger on her delicious form. She was strictly off limits.
Lauren smiled, blinked a few times and struggled to maintain eye contact. She could feel her face flushing red, her entire body getting hot. She brushed a tangle of hair behind her ear and realized that her hair was soaked in sweat and grime and matted to her head. Suddenly she felt really embarrassed to be so disheveled in front of such an attractive girl.
“Thank you,” Lauren managed to say, finally getting her brain and tongue to collaborate and forcing the words out of her mouth.
Cara took two steps towards Lauren. She put her hands on Lauren's shoulders and stared warmly into her eyes.
"It wasn't your fault," Cara said. "If Cody hadn't thrown that stupid interception…"
She broke off her words, looking away with more than a hint of sadness in her eyes. She sighed and turned back to Lauren.
"I just wanted you to know that no matter what you hear people saying,” she paused and stared at Lauren intensely. “That no matter what people say, so many of us are rooting for you. Like seriously, rooting for you.”
Lauren smiled. That Valley Girl diction had finally slipped through.
But that didn’t bother her. Not at all. Actually, it kind of turned her on. It made her think of affluent surroundings, perfectly mowed lawns, two luxury foreign cars in the driveway, a reasonably happy, well-adjusted family with two parents, 2.5 children, and a golden retriever. So much different from her hardscrabble childhood, which had taken her from one ex-con, junky, weirdo occupied trailer park to another. So much different from her parents who seemed to be either drinking, fighting, or fucking most of the time, each one accusing the other of sleeping around, while their mangy pit bull Tommy rifled through the trailer park’s garbage cans, marauding with a few of the other dogs, all of them famished, desperate for even the most meager of nourishment.
Lauren closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them, Cara was gone.
No, she wasn't gone;she was walking down the tunnel with Cody's huge arm around her shoulder.
What happened? Lauren said to herself, confused and hurt. Things had been going so well between them. How could she just walk off like that? Before Cara disappeared down the tunnel with the big beefy quarterback, she glanced back at Lauren. Tremors of pleasure rippled through Lauren's body. She could feel her pussy getting wet. So wet.
*****
When Lauren finally got to her locker, there were about a hundredreporters waiting for her. Their microphones looked like knives sharpened with blood lust. She trembled, swallowed hard. And then the barrage began, questions flying at her skull. The reporters, most of them men, most of them despising her from day one, had revenge in their eyes. This was the moment they’d been waiting for. This was their chance to put this bitch in her place, once and for all.
“Do you think that a male kicker would've made that?”
“Do you still think that you deserve to be on the team?”
“Do you feel like a phony?”
“Is it true that you're currently dating several professionalfemale athletes?”
Dazed and confused during this onslaught of insults and insinuations, Lauren was nearly knocked out by that last question.
Was she currently dating several female professional athletes? What the hell?
Two hundred supersized, sadistic eyeballs glared in at her, hungry for a juicy headline-making response, their gluttonous mouths gaping open.
They would swallow her whole. Or maybe they would slowly carve her up, plucking the hairs, removing the bones.
“No, I'm not dating anyone,” Lauren said. “And I've never dated a –”
“Okay guys, that's enough for today,” Jeffrey, the team's Director of Media Relations, cut into the brutal interrogation.
He was red-faced with anger in his eyes. There were plenty of reasons for everyone on the team to feel upset. But he seemed particularly bothered by the treatment that Lauren was receiving.
At least, that's the way it seemed to her.
But this pack of jackals and hyenas didn't go away without a fight. They groaned that no player, whether she was a woman or not, deserved special treatment.
That kind of stuff always pissed Lauren off. When people talked about her as if she was just a token, a phony, a fraud, she would simmer with anger.
She’d had to fight all her life for everything. Everything.
When the reporters had finally dispersed, Jeffrey turned towards her.
"Thank you," she said.
He nodded his head and stared at her, grim-faced.
"Is something wrong?" She asked, her voice trembling with worry. She’d never seen him look like that before.
"The team is bringing in two kickers for tryouts on Tuesday," he said.
"What?" Lauren said, helplessly.
"I'm sorry," Jeffrey said. “But this might be your last game."
*****
Lauren drove home in a daze. This was by far the most disappointing day of her life. She'd missed the kick that would've won the game, nearly been outed by a reporter, and on top of it all, she’d found out that the team would be bringing in other kickers to compete with her.
That mean
t that next week she could be cut from the team. If that happened, there was no telling, when, if at all, another team would sign her. Next week it could all be over – everything she’d worked for. It could all be gone. If that happened, she would have barely lasted two months as a professional.
It seemed so cruel. But that's the way the game was played. There was no sense complaining. This is what she’d worked for, had sacrificed for, had given her blood, sweat, time, and tears for. She much preferred to be in the ring, fighting it out with the other gladiators, her bloodthirsty competitors, ready, willing, and able to take her head off. She loved competition. She lived for it.
Yet she couldn't lie to herself. She didn't appreciate the fact that the team seemed to have so little confidence in her. She’d posted a solid kicking percentage so far. And this was her first last-second miss. That being said, it was also the first such kick that she’d had all season. So it might not have been the best omen.
Lauren pulled into her driveway and cut off the engine. All the lights in her home were out. The place looked like some sort of creepy, haunted house – five bedrooms, six bathrooms, a backyard, pool, marble floors, and chandeliers. She was the only person living there. Well, she wasn't exactly alone – a female pit bull and a male boxer roamed around the house, hungry for food and mischief while three cats staked out the massive basement area and a blocked-off section of the massive backyard.
Everyone in the home seemed to have an intimate companion. Except for Lauren. Still in the car, still staring at the dark, cavernous house as if it belonged to someone else, as if she still didn't quite believe that she’d come this far. It was hers. All hers. She never stopped wondering what her parents would have thought of this place. They might have both fallen dead from shock. Unfortunately, they’d both fallen dead with needles in their arms.
After feeding the dogs and cats, Lauren went straight to the shower without turning on her TV, laptop or radio, like she usually did. She didn’t want to see or hear anything about the game or anything about football in general. She needed time to decompress and get some perspective on things.