Are You Really That Good?

5…4…3…2… The shot was released. The orange and black leather ball was floating in the air for what it seemed like an hour. It was spinning with a crazy rotation that seemed to have worked only for this particular person. On the way down everyone watched -- The startled players of the other team, the anxious faces of his teammates and coaches, and his very loud and obnoxious parents that could not shut up the entire game finally did—with their eyes glued and glaring at the ball and their tongues hanging out of their mouth getting spit everywhere. After what seemed like a century, the ball came down. It clanged off the back of the rim, up so high you would have thought it was a round shaped bird slicing through the sky. Miraculously, it came down at the perfect angle, to go “SWISH” right through the hoop. Darius Miller just won the 7th grade Division One middle school state basketball tournament for Wichita, Kansas. As the fans bull rushed the court for their beloved all-star they all never thought of the question “Is Darius Miller really that good?”. But, he was their hero for the time being. Their champion. Their all-star. Their MVP. “Yeah baby!!!! All me!!!! I just dropped 33 on your trash team! HAHAHA you think your good don’t you?! You ain’t never met DARIUS MILLER!!!” New town. New team. New Darius. That’s what he was told when his dad got a job in some town called De Soto, Texas. Darius was devastated, he was THE man around town. All the girls wanted him, all the guys wanted to be friends with him, and all the parents loved him. He would now have to start all over. Of course he didn’t want to. He had dreams of playing at Wichita North in Kansas and winning his high school state championship. Those dreams were now crushed. Darius laid their on his bed, thinking about these dreams and wishes—then closed his eyes and let out blubbering tears of sadness. “You must be that new kid Darius. I heard what you did up there in Kansas dog. Props to you my man. You’ll have to be all that if you really can make our “A-Team”. We’ve got some real monsters, they will eat you for breakfast, lunch, AND dinner. “ That guy wasn’t kidding. Darius standing at about 5’11 was a midget compared to the towering 6’5 twins that were dunking over each other. He was a little boy compared to the kid with a goatee who was still about 3 inches taller than him. He was a second grader compared to the smaller and quicker guards who were dribbling the ball at a ridiculously fast pace. He read the sign “Welcome to De Soto Middle School” and thought this was not the place for him. As names were being called off for roll call, the coached stopped at the “M” section. “Mr. Darius Miller. You’ve been the story around town. Unlucky for you we only have 4 spots left on our top team. If you can’t prove yourself today—I’m going to have to put you on the “B Team”.” The coach’s rusty whistle was blown and a faint noise came out, letting everyone know that it was time to show what they had, if they weren’t already safe. The first drill was a shooting drill. Not Darius’ favorite because he had a funky rotation on his shot. He let all of the players go in front of him. They all came out hot, drilling every single shot they rose up for. Unlike Darius who was ice cold and could not hit a shot to save his life if he had to. Next was a dribbling drill. A little more in Darius’ forte. He knew he was a good ball handler, but there were many quick guards that schooled him. Every crossover he did, he got his pocket picked. Every through-the-legs move he did, clipped the back of his kicks and caused him to slow down. Every behind the back he did, got caught on his back and got called for a carrying violation. He had 30 minutes left to prove himself. It was scrimmage time. He was paired up with this kid who had no chance of ever making the team. The kid was about 5’6 with RecSpec glasses and snot dripping from his nose. His acne covered his entire face and his legs were hairier than King Kong. Darius was scared to touch the kid because he thought he would get a disease. The rusty whistle was blown again and the scrimmage started. Darius came out hotter than the sun. He canned some 3’s and was all over on defense. He then started to cool down. Being a facilitator to his teammates and working the ball around. With five minutes on the clock, coach subbed King Kong out and put a lock down defender on him. He turned the ball over 6 times with this new man on him, he didn’t score, he didn’t assist his teammates, NOTHING. The buzzer sounded—and the tryout was over. As the coaches posted that white piece of paper, 4 out of the 8 people trying to make the team would be happy and 4 wouldn’t be. Darius slowly walked over as everyone else walked away, he read names. His was not there. Darius Miller—had made the “B Team”.