Basketball

I used to want to play in the WNBA. Why? Ew, I don't know. I was tall. That is basically it. When I was in second grade I was taller than my teacher. Obvz she was insanely short. But she was an actual human and I was actually taller than her (we went back to back). So I figured it was my destiny to play basketball. I joined the team in my community and was pretty awesome. My mom thought I was precious because I smiled for about 10 minutes after every shot I made. But then I reached a point where my game matured and I no longer smiled when I scored. Then one time in third grade, I had the ball and a girl grabbed the ball and we were both holding on tight.
She bit me.
Less out of pain and more out of shock I quickly released the ball and stared at my arm. Bite marks? From a girl? In third grade? What a f*cking weirdo!!!!! I wish I could meet her now. She is probably one of those booger eating outcasts that wears tweety bird tye dye t-shirts, I'm sure.
So by the time I got to fifth grade, I felt that basketball was my calling. In 5th grade you can join the junior varsity team at my school. I was the only fifth grader that played in the game and not the fifth quarter. Was this typical to have fifth quarters? I think they were nothing but rude and embarrassing. You sucked if you played in the fifth quarter. I would rather not play than display my suckiness to the world in the fifth quarter. But anyways, I played in the real game. I didn't start or anything, but chill out, I still played. So when we were playing Sacred Heart, I was on the bench chatting my life away with my friends when I hear my coach calling my name to come in! Oh NO! I was not paying attention at all. Zone or Man? Oh shoot. So I quickly ask the girl that I am replacing what is going on. Ok, I am guarding #23. Ok. I go in. I am right under the hoop and somehow the ball is just rolling. I get it. I shoot. A simple layup. I miss. Get the rebound. Shoot. Miss. Shoot. Miss. Shoot. Miss. (please note: all of this is true without exaggeration) Shoot. Miss. "Wait" I think to myself. "Where is everyone?" Then it hit me. I looked behind me. Everyone was staring at me. I looked at the ref. He was pointing for me to go to the other side. OMFG! I shot at the wrong hoop. I shot at the wrong hoop a million times and missed each time. I gave the ball to the point guard. Continued for the few minutes remaining.
and
wanted
to
die.
The positive thing that came out of that experience was I used it as my most embarrassing story for the next 5 or so years of my life. I used it until I replaced it with when I fell down an entire flight stairs in my high school as a stupid Freshman and everyone saw and I was bleeding in four places.
Eighth grade. I somehow continued to play basketball even after the mortifying experience. And I was still super good. I did the jump ball and I am pretty sure I did not even jump. Tippy toe and got it every time. That was my goal. Win the jump ball every time. I got MVP. I ruled.
High school. Ok, this is when I realized I am not that good. I made the team but stayed on the bench 24/7. I did not mind it too much cause I liked the other bench warmers. And I was getting to the age where being that manly was kinda grossing me out. The varsity coach came to our practice once and gave us nicknames.
Dancing Bear. He seriously gave me Dancing Bear. WHO CALLS A GIRL A DANCING BEAR!
I somehow continued to play through my sophomore year. It was then that I hit a major milestone. We were playing Mercyhurst, our biggest rivals, and everyone came to watch. We were undefeated. They were undefeated. This game was super important. The game was really intense, but we were super good so we were winning by 8 points near the end of the game. With one minute left, I turn to my teammates on the bench and say, "What if coach put me in now? That would be so mean." We laugh at the thought. Not playing the whole game and then just playing for the last minute. What a pity minute. How embarrassing that would be. But I got a little nervous. They would do something like that. So I watch the clock slowly go down. 30 seconds left. Phew, I am not going in. Good.
Then, with 1.7 seconds left in the game I hear, "JAMIE!" WTF. Why is coach calling my name? I look at her. She yells at me to get in. I give her the deadliest death glare my eyes could produce. "ARE YOU KIDDING?!?!" I respond. "No, GO IN!" Stupid Bitch. I go in for the f*cking 1.7 seconds. I stood there. Holding back tears. We won. I could not have been sadder. I did not try out my junior year. I ended my basketball career.