Five. “You’re going in for your sister, okay.” Four. “Number 24 for number 10” Three. “24 to the freethrow line” Two. “Control what you can control” One. Swoosh. As the clock ran down pride, sweat, and tears were all composed with in one moment--my last moment to make my mark on the Himminger Hanger.

Thursday, February 22, 2018: we played the final game in the Himminger Hanger. As I trudged onto the court after my own junior varsity game, I couldn’t believe the overwhelming sense of pride and sadness that I felt. It would be my last time in the Himminger Hanger, having my grandfather as a coach, playing in the same musty gym as my entire family, and the last time playing a game with my sister. We finished warming up in our gold warm ups and took a seat on our navy blue pilot chairs. “Together on three,” Meghan yelled, “one, two, three together!” During the game, my legs turned to jello. They were slowly filling up with nerves for the fourth quarter when everything would come to an end. It would all just end. The seniors were all put in for one last time, and the coach started to prepare subs. Without surprise, I went in for my sister, and the time had come to take off my warmup and check in. The subs went in one by one and hugged their senior teammate. I stepped on the court, hugging my sweaty sister and felt an overwhelming sense of sadness. I could not believe the whole season had come to an end, like all good memories. 

We were in the final quarter in the Ayersville vs. Hicksville Girls basketball game. The clock slowly ticked down to zero, and I waited to make a lasting moment on the Himminger hanger. Our team passed around the orange ball looking for an open shot on the court. I built up the guts to shoot the bumpy ball in hopes of three points. With a lack of better judgement, the ball hit off the rim and jumped out of the steel hoop. We hurried and chased after the ball, running up and down the court like roadrunners. Time kept running away on the clock. With less than thirty seconds, we contained the ball and ran it down to our side of the court. I found my place down in the post, with a Hicksville Ace on my back. As I set my feet and prepared for the ball, it came to my half of the court. My teammate shouted, “Allison!” The ball was launched toward me. As I turned around with a powerful post move for my two points, the ref blew his loud whistle as I am fouled. I moseyed nervously to the black foul line with a packed gym looking right at me. The ref threw me the ball, and I dribbled it twice and shoot the ball but sadly missed the first one. I looked over at my coach for advice, and he told me to relax. I did my routine over again and took a deep breath as I placed the ball in my hands. I carefully shot the ball toward the rim. I was overjoyed my heart exploded with excitement. As the game wound down to zero, their number outranked ours, but nothing could disappoint my final night.  

I never truly knew how much it meant to me until it was over. All the hard work, time, and effort made up the best moments of my freshmen year. I will never forget playing in the Himminger Hanger with my sister or having my grandpa as a coach. I will never forget the final shot and the sound of the buzzer ending a chapter in my life. However, I will always remember the memories of being a pilot.