My one shot at basketball glory

It has happened to the majority of people I know. And when it happens, people tend to laugh. It’s just human nature: People find it funny when other people trip. Others tend to find embarrassing things funny - and rightly so. It just makes sense to get that laugh in now before it happens to you. But not too many people I know have tripped over a chair while attempting to jump it in front of half the school.

No one wants to be that guy. You know the guy. The one everyone laughs at during the pep rally because he totally made a fool of himself. Well, I was once that guy. Randomly selected to play basketball musical chairs, I got a chance to show the world - or at least the majority of the school - that I, the school sports writer, had game. I had the opportunity of a lifetime to show that I could in fact ball. But all opportunities are not capitalized upon.

I stroll to center court with the whole junior class chanting my name. I felt like I was atop the basketball world. I could totally take Michael Jordan on in a pick up game right now. Well, maybe not. If I had only knew what was to come.

With four other challengers, I measured up my chances. That chick has no shot. That dude can’t make a lay-up. That guy cannot write his own name coherently much less dribble a basketball. And that girl shall not get in the way of my claim to fame. I pull up for a six-foot jumper and get the ball and sit down. I secure a lay-up and get a seat. One more round until the finals. Another lay-up is made, and I’m in the finals.

I make my shot with plenty of time. But as I approach the final chair, it isn’t facing my side of the court. And my opponent is making a run for that same chair. Running full speed, I attempt to jump over the chair and secure basketball stardom. But I didn’t quite make it, falling flat on my back to a roaring mix of laughter and applause. I didn’t live that moment down for weeks. But learning to laugh at myself was a greater memory I’ll never forget.