Curse of Genius by Taylor White
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I nervously stand on the baseline of the court in formation with the other cheerleaders, waiting for the teams to run out of their locker rooms. I've got a strong yet slightly sweaty grip on my pom-poms, ready to cheer.
As I stare at our team's locker room door, which is now partially open, I can see people pacing back and forth?standing still, then moving, getting ready to line up and run out. Even though I'd prefer not to be here at all, I tear my gaze away from the locker room and look over at the crowd of spectators in the bleachers, and just kind of take in the moment--this new, interesting world I've never been a part of.
I see the faces of so many loyal fans as I scan the crowd, fans who would probably die before agreeing to miss a single one of these games. Fans who are smiling and chatting and stuffing their mouths with various snacks from the concession stand like popcorn, candy, hot dogs, burgers, and nachos--all of which are making my mouth water. Fans who are staring anxiously at the court in anticipation for tip-off. I have to admit I'm also anxiously awaiting the start of this game, but for two very different reasons than this gym-full of die-hard, parental super fans.
First of all, the sooner the game starts, the sooner it's over. And second, I'm absolutely dying to see Bryson out there, sweating in his jersey and playing ball. Especially since I've heard that he was supposedly this basketball and baseball god at Central High. That is, until the administration discovered his Baton Rouge address was just outside the Central corp limit, and forced him to leave along with almost a hundred other students. Our coach immediately contacted him after hearing the news and talked him into coming to Stargate. Note to self: send Coach Sullivan a fruit basket and a thank you card.
I look back to the locker room just in time to see our team running out on the court, led by Bryson who is team captain. Summer immediately starts jumping around and cheering, which ignites the squad to do the same. So I conform as well--feeling silly but well-trained at this point--and begin hopping up and down and clapping my pom-poms together while occasionally shooting them above my head and shaking them around, yelling things like "Come on, Grizzlies!" and "Let's go, Grizzlies!" and so on.
After warming up for a few minutes before heading to their benches for a last-minute huddle, the starting five players for both teams head out to center court to position themselves for tip-off.
Now, from what I've heard, we've never beaten this team. In fact, we've never even come within twenty points?yeah, pretty bad. And that's probably mainly because of the two six-foot, five-inch centers on their team, who are now seniors.
But things are looking more promising for us this year with the addition of our very own six-foot, four-inch senior center, and of course, Bryson.
Bryson is the point guard of the team despite the fact that he stands five-feet, eleven-inches tall--which is typically a little tall for a high school point guard--and again, from what I hear, he's incredible. If he was the star player at Central High, which has around 1,700 students, compared to our 500 students on the high school side, chances are he's going to be too much for this league to handle altogether.
The two centers finally square up for the jump while the other players surround them, crouched as if they're ready to pounce, as their other center drops back to our goal for defense.
When the ball is tossed, their center quickly tips it to their point guard. But before he can put the ball on the ground for a single dribble, Bryson slaps it from his hands, then explodes to the goal like a bolt of lightning, leaving everyone behind except for their other center who is waiting under the basket. Bryson charges straight toward him and without even a second of hesitation, he jumps almost clean over this oak tree with arms and effortlessly lays the ball in the basket, the back of his fingertips gently grazing the rim.
Obviously the rumors were true, and I'm overwhelmed with excitement after seeing that. I might even start sweating myself just watching him out there.
They quickly grab the ball and throw it back in as Bryson and the team lay on a full-court press. It's not typical to press at the beginning of a game, but if I had to guess, Coach Sullivan probably wants to send a message to the other team. Their point guard tries tirelessly to dribble around Bryson, to no avail. Bryson even slaps the ball from his hands a few times but doesn't steal it, as if he's toying with him. Then he finally traps him on the sideline and knocks the ball out of bounds.
Coach Sullivan signals to Bryson and the team to back off, so they do and begin heading down to the other side of the court.
The other team dribbles down and eventually takes a shot, which misses and is rebounded by one of our guys who passes it straight to Bryson. Right away, Bryson forcefully slings the ball the length of the court with a two-handed overhead pass, straight to our center who has already sprinted to the other end, and he lays the ball in for two more points.
The game continues on at this pace for another two or three minutes as Bryson racks up another quick eight points. With the score already 12-2, Coach pulls Bryson from the game, which confuses me at first. But as the game goes on, it becomes clear that Bryson has been appointed the role of "safety net." Coach will not risk injury to him by leaving him on that court any longer than necessary. He sends him in to clean up when the other team gains a little ground, then pulls him right back out. I'm so excited and flustered right now from watching him I really have no idea how I'm going to concentrate on my halftime cheers.