Page 76 of The Transfer
“One stop. Get one stop. Then make one shot. Can you do that for me?” Those words are on replay as I walk back on the court and find myself in my defensive position.Two minutes. We have plenty of time, and we all trust each other. We all believe we will win this game, and now it’s time to execute.
As our opponents bring the ball up toward their basket, we double-team the player dribbling it past the half-court line. He is easilyfrazzled and tries to pass out of it, but I see it and throw my hand in the way. The ball is in front of me, and I take off dribbling toward our hoop. I see there are two defenders, one on each side, but I’m going for it. I push myself to the limit as I drive and push the ball in the basket for a layup. As I do, I am hit from both sides and go down hard, landing right on my back. I know I’ll feel that in the morning for sure. I hear the whistle, and the stands go insane because the basket counts as a foul. If I make this free throw, we take the lead from five down to two.
The free throw falls through the net, and the other team calls their final time-out.
Jordan smacks me on the back as we walk toward our bench to huddle up. “Riggs, that was it. We got this, man. We’re gonna get the stop. Find me for the three. I can feel it in my bones, I’m gonna hit this shot.” It sends a chill through me because I can picture it now.
“Alright, y’all.” Jordan takes over and tells our teammates exactly what he just said to me. Uncle Jake has a grin on his face, knowing that Jordan's exercising his leadership will fuel the team to victory. We have less than a minute left and no time-outs.
As we defend down to the end of the other team’s shot clock, they throw up a last-minute jump shot that falls off the rim, right into Moore’s hands. He throws the ball to me, and we all sprint up the court.
There are ten seconds left, and it feels like destiny. Starting the offense, men go into motion, and Carter sets the perfect screen for Jordan, leaving him wide open in the corner. I send the ball to him, and he shoots his shot. It flies through the air.Swish. His three-pointer is good, and now we are up by one point with two seconds remaining. You can’t hear anything over the roar of the crowd.
Hustling back to defend the last-ditch effort, a lob pass from the other team is easily stolen by Carter, and that’s it. Game over. CTU wins 89-88.
We won.
We are going to the Final Four!
I fall to my knees and sob in celebration of a team I love. In grief of not having my father in the stands. But ultimately, in happiness, knowing I am one step closer to getting all I ever wanted from the game of basketball.
FIFTY-SIX
RIGGS
The locker room explodes as we all enter and start jumping up and down. Water bottles are being dumped and sprayed all over, soaking every player and all the coaches. It’s surreal to be a part of something I’ve wished for since I was a child.
After a few minutes, Coach has us all settle down on a bench near the lockers so he can address us. A huge grin fills his face, and I’m so happy for my uncle. He deserves all the accolades and praise coming to him for his flawless coaching during the tournament.
“Gentlemen, I have two words for you…”
He pauses for a moment before screaming,
“FINAL FOUR!”
And the celebration continues.
I’mthe last one ready, and as I walk out of the locker room, Everett Mills intercepts me. My heart races, hoping he’s not about to beat me for hurting his daughter, but when he smiles at me, I calm down.
“Riggs, just the man I was looking for. You played a great game tonight, son.”
He calls me son, and it hits different. He realizes what he said, and his face falls for a moment.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think.”
I stop him quickly. “No, Mr. Mills, don’t apologize. I just haven’t heard anyone call me that since my dad passed.”
He nods, weighing his words before he says them. “How are you really doing?”
I don’t know how to answer that. My first reaction is fine, which is code for anything but. I can’t lie to this man, though. Not only is he my basketball idol, but he’s also Reagan’s dad. I respect him immensely, and if I ever get a second chance with his daughter, I want him on my side.
“Some days are good. Others are horrible. I have been putting everything I have into basketball and focusing on the team.” I have given him the truth, mostly. My thoughts often get stuck on Reagan, but my actions are still mostly focused on basketball.
He contemplates what I said before answering. “Listen, son, I told my wife I wouldn’t intervene, but I’m tired of seeing my daughter hurting. And I don’t blame you for that. You’re clearly hurting too. So learn from me before it’s too late. Don’t waste time and never hold back. Trust me. I wasted enough when I was dating her mother. Almost lost her. Love is the most important part of life, even more than ball.” He slaps me on the back and walks off.
I stand there feeling like I was just slapped in the face. I have always believed that basketball must come first, always. Everett Mills just shattered that idea.
The next day,I find Jordan after practice.
