“How did I know we would be down this much?” I thought to myself. There was about one minute left until half time and the score was already 37-13. Jackson was the supreme threat of the whole tournament. And just like usual he was not missing a shot.
Our summer league team was made up of kids who went to different middle schools, either in or around Manhattan, the small town we grew up in. We have two kids who went to Eisenhower Middle School, which included me, we had one kid that lived on base at Ft. Riley that had just come to play with us for this tournament, and the rest of our team went to Anthony Middle School. Even though we all went to different schools we all had one thing in common; we have all been smashed by Jackson’s funny looking shot that always went in. When Eisenhower played them, Jackson didn’t miss one shot and single handedly tore our team apart little by little, until the buzzer sounded at the end of the game. The final score was 56-24.
But that game didn’t matter now. All our losses did was make me want to beat him even more, and I think that’s how the whole team felt as well. Even my dad, who was our coach, had watched Jackson win everything and wanted see him beaten.
EHNNNT! The buzzer went off to send us into half time. That was the longest half of basketball I have ever played. It seemed like I had been playing for hours. I was drenched in sweat and sore from running up and down the court watching Jackson score. He was the only player on his team who was scoring. I glared and clenched my teeth thinking about how he, not his team was pummeling us. We all moped over to the bench feeling disappointed and livid. Our coach told us to sit down and get some water. Usually at half time he had a lot to say about how we played or what we needed to change up. But this time was different. All he said was, “ We got to stop him.” We all just sat there looking at each other without a sound, thinking; wanting to believe, but we all had the same question. Who was going to stop him? That was when one of our quietest players spoke up for the first time the whole tournament and said, “ I got him.” Everyone nodded there heads leisurely, my dad had a grin on his face, “Its game time.”
The Referees came to our bench to tell us, “Let’s get to the court, guys.” We all stood up and got in a huddle. 1,2,3, Defense! We believed now. This was our half, our game.
We started with the ball and right off the bat I hit a three pointer, which was the first one, out of many tries that I had made. This is when things got electrifying. Jackson dribbled the ball, thinking he was just going to stomp all over us like he had done before during those awful games. Abruptly, he stopped on a dime, moved his foot in closer to his other one and pulled up to shoot the ball. But there was one thing he didn’t notice, our quiet kid, from Ft. Riley came from around the side of Jackson. Pop! The ball went straight to the ground and flew out of bounds. He did something no one else had been able to do, throw Jackson out of his game. Lastly, we could play our game.
We liked to run the court on fast breaks because we had speed, something a lot of other teams didn’t have. When we use our speed, we demoralize teams by wearing them out. When they get worn out they get aggravated and stop playing their game. That’s exactly what happened to Jackson. He was missing shots left and right, not thinking. As this happened we ran them down into the court. We were in shape and made for running, while they were dying and resting on their knees after a few minutes of playing our game.
We were one of the last games of the tournament and everyone else who played that day was gathered around, boggled at what was taking place. The score now was 41-58. They had only scored four points that 2nd half. The tables had turned on Jackson for the first time. I had never seen him like this, he furiously stomped the court, irritated and puzzled just waiting, waiting for that buzzer to sound off. Our team on the other hand, wanted to keep smashing them, to keep scoring. But our coach told us to stop and hold the ball. That was the happiest moment in my life, just sitting at the top of the key dribbling the ball, looking around, smiling and laughing with my teammates.

GHNNNT! The buzzer finally went off! I threw the ball in the air and we all dog piled on each other in the center of the court. We had finally beaten them. After our moment, we lined up to shake hands, because without the other team we wouldn’t of had such a superb win. That’s how I have always thought about it. We shook hands telling everyone good game and we got out gigantic, gold medals for first. Then, for the last time that summer, we got in the huddle to break it down. 1,2,3, INDIANS!