The biggest night of our whole season had arrived.  The team we had to play was just as good as we, and wanted to win this game just as badly as we. Euphoria filled the air, as the fans in the stands packed themselves shoulder to shoulder.  The atmosphere in that gymnasium was every athlete’s wish on a star granted.  The first half of the game went well for the most part. It was full of aggressiveness, bodies flying, fouls being called, whistles being blown, and emotions going through the roof. 

At halftime, the girls who didn’t play on varsity coached our third and fourth grade basketball camp players as they scrimmaged.  This offered the crowd a pleasant distraction from the big game since by that point in time all of the fans were on the edge of their seats.  This is always delightful to watch, no matter where the fans are from.  Watching the little girls be rough and tough reassured me that, if they can be that strong willed and determined to win, our varsity girls could do the same against this team.

Same as the first half, the second was nerve-wracking, exhausting, exhilarating, and exciting all at the same time.  Sweat poured from the exhausted player’s bodies, as they hustled up and down the court.  Their faces glistened, as the salty liquid soaked the white jerseys they wore.  The already heavy material felt even heavier now.  For a while, our team had a decent lead on the visitors.  As time ran out, the lead was diminished.  Also, the best player on the other team had fouled out, and another one of their players had four fouls.  In my eyes, victory was already clinched for us. 

However, we did not have the win just yet.  When the final buzzer rang loudly, the score was tied up at thirty-three points each.  The teams jogged back to their respective benches as tired as a bunch of old men, shoes scuffing on the way.  If the coaches were yelling, it could not be heard over the student section’s energetic and lively cheers or the band playing our school anthem gleefully.  My heart was beating so hard, I thought it would pop out of my chest, and I wasn’t even playing.  This game had been so bewildering already; I didn’t think it could get any better. 

As a second overtime was forced, the crowd was ready for someone to be declared a winner.  Hoarse throats cheered and red hands clapped passionately as the girls prepared themselves for the third tipoff of the night.  After gaining possession, I heard coach bellow out, “Pound! Pound!” referring to one of our offensive plays.  We struck hard and struck first and put ourselves up on the scoreboard.  Those four minutes of the last overtime ticked slower then the Titanic when it sunk.  When the game finally reached the last thirty seconds, our faithful fans were filled from head to toe with joy.  It was then I realized that I had never been more crazy about hearing the buzzer go off.  We had just won against our biggest rival, and it was the greatest moment in our whole season.  After going ten years without getting a win against them, it was nice to finally put a “W” next to our name instead of an “L”.  I turned to my friends with tears of joy in my eyes and said, “Guys, did that really just happen? Did we seriously just beat them?”  To put the cherry on top of the sundae, this also gave us a huge chance to win our conference, since we had just taken down the best team.  That blood-pumping game brought our team closer than ever.  On that chilly, February night, we became champions.