I hurt. I will never admit it, but I hurt. If I don't limp, the coaches dont know. I tell Doc that my knee is stiff, but it has never felt like this before. I know something is wrong. I keep his attention on my jammed thumb. He tapes it up and pushes a needle under my knee cap.
I am tired. Dog tired. But I cant sleep. My head is spinning. Eight thirty nine F flat! When I finally do sleep the coaches are still screaming at me. My phone rings. 2:52 AM. Mama says she heard shots outside again. She is scared and alone. And so am I. I need this. She needs this.
I finally get some sleep on the road with the CB talking in the background about how great he is. His voice fades out as I am rocked to sleep by the bus. X shallow cross!
I have never seen anything like this stadium. I have never heard anything like this crowd. It is so loud that I have to read the coaches lips when he calls my number. To be sure I point my chest. I can hear him now. He is in my face. This is it. I need this. She needs this.
I feel so small.
My phone rings again. 11:47 PM. Mama says she saw me on TV. Says she is proud of me. She says she knows that I will be a big star. I am ashamed. She doesnt know that I missed that block. She doesnt know.
There is a loud knock on my door. 7:01 AM. Coach wants my I-pad.
"She needs this."
These tears are for her. Not me.
"She needs this."