Page 75 of The Transfer
Sounds like a good time to walk in, so I do, trying to be a little loud so they know they’re not alone. As I round the corner, I see Jordan wrapping her in a hug, resting his chin on the top of her head. It is clearly a gesture that looks like it means a lot more than just friendship. He sees me and immediately pulls away from her, and Mack jumps, realizing I’m in here with them.
“Oh, hey Riggs. I was just wishing Jordan good luck for the game on Saturday. So good luck to both of you. I’ll be there to cheer y’all on. Good night.” She says that so fast, then practically sprints out of the room.
I stare after her for a moment, then turn my eyes back on my closest friend. “What was that?” My eyebrows are practically in my hairline, and he looks back at me like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
He blows out a giant breath and puts his hands on top of his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It’s just…complicated. Please don’t say anything to Reagan. I don’t want her involved. She just needed to talk to someone about Trey, and I guess I’m the chosen one.”
“Does she always confide in you about her relationship with him? That seems like a lot to take on, J.”
“It’s just how we’ve always been. And probably always will be.” Something in his tone has me uncertain. Jordan may be friends with Mack, but I think it might be more than that, deep down.
I take the opportunity to change the subject. We focus on our next opponent, knowing it will be a tougher game than the one we just played today.
It’s Sunday night,and we are in a fight with Texas. The winner moves on to the next round. It’s been a tight game throughout, and we are getting down to the wire.
“Alright, 15, hit these free throws. You got this, baby!” Carter comes up beside me, encouraging me before I step to the free throw line.
We are tied with five seconds left in the game. Texas has brought their best tonight, and we have struggled defensively against their speed. I have two free throws to make to put us up, and then we have to get one more stop.
The referee throws me the ball.
I do three dribbles and spin the ball in my hands before pausing and shooting it.
Swish. It goes through.
Up one.
I repeat my routine for the second shot.
Swish.
Up two.
With neither team having any time-outs remaining, we spread out to cover the whole court and prepare for Texas's inbound. After their player struggles to find someone to throw it to, he lobs it toward half-court, and all I can do is turn around and run toward it. Williams is right there, and he jumps in front of the opposing player, grabbing the ball.Game. Over.
Our fans go insane as he throws the ball in the air in celebration. We all run over to him, screaming and jumping around. The phrase “survive and advance” has never hit harder than right at this moment. We are moving on. Sweet sixteen next weekend, and hopefully, we punch our ticket to the Final Four that Sunday. One step closer to our goal.Thank you, Dad.
Grabbing Jake, I hug my coach to let him know how much it means to be on his team. “He is proud of you, nephew,” Jake whispers to me, and a little wave of grief flows over me, but as soon as it hits, it turns into a happy reminder of Dad and all he did for my basketball career.
FIFTY-FIVE
RIGGS
Staying local for the second weekend of the tournament is far more enjoyable than flying across the country. We're already familiar with the new environment, having played in Charlotte just a few weeks ago, and we can bring a lot more fans to cheer us on. Having my mom in the stands adds fuel to my fire.
We won our first game of the weekend easily, which was not expected. I don’t know if I have ever felt so in sync with teammates before. Blowing out Kansas City by thirty points was a statement that CTU is here and ready to contend for a title.
Saying that, we have a tough opponent for the second game. A game that, if we win, sends us to Miami for the Final Four. Internally, I may be anxious and ready to projectile vomit, but on the outside, I look cool and collected. Dad always said not to let them see you sweat. Basketball is just as much a mental game as it is a physical one. If you are tough that way, no one can get in your head and mess with your game. Losing him affected how I played for a while, but working through my grief has allowed me greater control.
It’s about thirty minutes before tip-off, and we just came out of the tunnel to start our warm-ups. Coach keeps it simple, and the routinealways helps me stay laser-focused on the next forty minutes of basketball. I know that the next loss will be my last college game, and I desperately want to go out on top.
As time ticks away, the excitement and anticipation grow inside me and throughout the arena. I look at my best friends, my teammates, and we are all in the zone. I’m ready to run through a brick wall as they announce the starters, and we head to midcourt for the tip. Williams easily controls it, and I dribble the ball up our side of the court.
The game has been backand forth despite our team playing incredibly well. We have over half the crowd on our side since we are playing just a few hours from the CTU campus. However, that doesn’t seem to be affecting our opponent, Colorado.
At halftime,we’re down by two points, but we’re fired up and ready to take control in the second half. We come out of the locker room knowing the next twenty minutes determine the fate of our season.
Despite our fight, we’re down by five points with two minutes left. Colorado calls a time-out, and I can see that Coach is more on edge than ever. The officiating has been inconsistent at best and has been chiefly detrimental to our team. Williams, Moore, and Carter all have four fouls and need to be careful. If they get one more, they’ll have to sit out the rest of the game.
