A collective groan goes up.
The next play, Atlas trips trying to guard and they get a dunk.
Brooke grabs my hand.
By the end of the first quarter, small mistakes are adding up to a six-point deficit for the Kodiaks.
“Damn it,” I whisper.
I look up at the jumbotron for a closeup of Clay as he heads back to the bench.His expression is tight as he and Jay confer.
The teams go back at it in the second.
This time, Rookie tries to take over and get his.
“Come on,” I call, clapping.
Isaac, Clay’s former teammate, steals the ball from him and takes it back the other way for a three.
No.
I see the moment Clay decides to make a change.His face goes from tight concern to impenetrable resolve.
He takes over in the third quarter.Puts the team on his back and carries them to even ground.
“He’s playing out of his mind!”Brooke hollers.I can barely hear it over the roar of the stadium.
At the end of the third quarter, it’s a tied game.Clay goes up for a dunk, and one of the LA guards goes up for the block.
“Look out!”I scream as if they can hear me.As if they’re not already committed.
My heart stops as the two huge bodies fly toward one another.
Clay is focused on the basket, the other man intent on bringing him down.
They collide in mid-air.
The ball finds the hoop and cheers erupt as both players crash to the court in a pile of limbs.
Brooke and I gasp.
The other guy gets up first, but Clay doesn’t move.
Denver calls a time out.
The other Kodiaks jog over to help him up.It takes far too long for him to rise, and far too much help from the other guys.
He tries to walk it off, but when his gaze finds mine, I know.
He’s hurt.
“It’s okay,” I say under my breath.“Trust them.”
Clay turns away.
“This is the worst timing.”Brooke says what every person in the arena is thinking as the final seconds of the quarter expire.“They have twelve minutes to pull out something magical.”
The huddle is intense, every head bowed together as the coaches and players confer.
