So Many Lasts
By Lora Woolfolk
March 11, 2010
As I sat there on the bench in the locker room where I had sat so many times before, one thought kept coming to my mind—four points. Four points, two regular shots, a three-pointer and a free-throw, or getting two more defensive rebounds to prevent a stick-back, there were so many different ways to make or prevent four points. Those four points could have allowed me just one more week.
It was February 26, 2010. I had been anticipating the big game all night. Finally, the time had come. We had just finished warm-up, and the game was about to begin. I ran through our team as they announced my name for the starting line up. Tonight, I wanted to win this game more than I had ever wanted to win a game before. If my team and I lost this one, we were done for the season. I, on the other hand, wouldn’t just be done for this season. I have been playing basketball competitively since third grade—ten total years. However, losing this one game would mean that my basketball career was over. That thought made me nervous, so I pushed it to the back of my mind. I looked around, and all of the expected people were there. I had seen those people watching our high school girls basketball religiously for the last four years—each sitting in the same spot they were sitting in the first game of my freshmen year. The referee blew his whistle and tossed the ball up. It was now official. The game had begun.
The next hour or so was a blur. Shots were made, passes were thrown, and rebounds were obtained. One thing was certain, when the final buzzer blew, South Central had lost by four points. I realized what that meant, but I knew I had to keep my composure. “It’s only a sport,” I thought. I was halfway through the line of shaking the opponent’s hands, and it hit. Tears started flowing, emotions started whirling, and memories started coming to the surface. I finally made it through the line and into the locker room door. I heard my teammates behind me, many reacting in the same way. I sat on the bench, and didn’t look up for the next twenty minutes. I heard what coach said, but much of it didn’t sink in. All I could think was, “I’m finished . . . forever.”
This year was my hardest year to end. Yes, it was my last, and yes, it was the highest record I have ever had with a team. However, that wasn’t why it was so hard. This year, my teammates were more than the people I spent two hours a day with from the months of November to February; they were my best friends. I was with them on the weekends and in the hallways. I enjoyed being around them, and that’s what will remain in my mind for a long time. This made it that much harder to end my basketball career. In the end, it wasn’t about the points that were scored, or the mistakes that were made; it was about the relationships that were built. Though my basketball career was over, the friendships I have made throughout the process will never be forgotten.
