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Rated: E · Short Story · Sports · #2075699
it's just a game...right?
(word count 300)

"Just shave a few points." That's what the mob boss said. "Just miss...once or twice." Now, here I am, thirty thousand fans screaming around me, having the worst game of my life.

With only thirty seconds remaining, the game has taken a TV timeout. It's coming down to the wire, and the entire bench is huddled around Coach as he lays out the plays. I can't focus though because I'm busy watching my girlfriend in the stands. Two thugs in business suits are sitting behind her. One of them taps her shoulder and she turns and smiles at him. She's so naive. Two weeks ago, so was I.

The horn blows and five of us return to the court. We've been playing man-to-man all night and my guy walks up with a stupid grin on his face. He's having the best game of his college career. He has single handedly kept my number low. When we meet again, I'm going to destroy him.

I take the inbound and quickly bounce pass the ball to their best scorer. He slams a dunk into the rear iron sending the ball flying. I get the rebound and again, maybe too obviously this time, turn the ball over into the hands of the best shooter on the east coast. He pulls up and launches three-pointer. The shot would beat the spread and save my ass. Again, he bricks it into the glass.

The final buzzer sounds and our bench clears in celebration. We are the National Champions. In anger and frustration, I glare at their star player. He's staring into the visitor stands at a pretty girl and the two suited men rising to leave behind her. I turn to my girl in the home stands. But she's gone.

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