Rural junior high basketball. We’re an average team. But those Catholics. They usually beat us by thirty plus. Forty-three when we visited their place.
At our gym, I tell the guys, “We’ve got a chance. Go fast, don’t sub. Okay?”
No one protests. The game starts.
Halftime, we’re up seven. Their coach is livid. They have no idea how to play from behind.
Three point lead after the third, our shooter fouls out.
One minute left and it’s tied. Our guys are exhausted. Their coach is red-faced and screaming. We’re laughing.
They win by one in overtime. We don’t care.