Pro-Street

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic


After years of being "just a walmart shoe" And1 returns with new gear to lauch them through the stratosphere. They're called Jumpers, and they are how they sound. Using springs and air pressure,
they make their users faster and give them the ability to jump higher. They dump a ton of money into a tournament to advertise this new gear and our mc is a part of it. After being goated by a
friend/rival he joins the tournament just to beat him in it, not to win the whole thing, just beat him. Watch as he attempts to meet his goal, if he even makes it that far.

Submitted: June 11, 2018

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Submitted: June 11, 2018

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Streetball. Back in the early 2000’s, that’s all there was. Kids walkin’ 'round in oversized jerseys and with the turned 'round snapbacks. Back when And1 something and not known some Wal-Mart shoe. Now it's 2030 and they’re back. And they’re coming back bigger than ever, they already dropped the mixtape but that's not the important part. What is, is that they brought the game back and they're callin’ it ‘Pro-Street’. Touring around the world picking up players and building teams. Flying them out to Miami, all for one big game. Now I'm not gonna sit here and explain all that to you, you got youtube for that. I’m just gonna show it to you, at least what I’ve seen. Now, this ain't no regular basketball, but you're gonna have stick around to see that.

Oh, and me, I’m Dwight. Here they call me ‘The Professor’. I know, corny right, but I didn't pick it. I’m not gonna say I’m the best-selling player out here but I’m far from the worst, I’m not a writer so don't expect much, but I don't really care what you think anyway. So let's stop wasting time and LET’S GET IT!

A six on six pickup game goes on as a black basketball enters the hands of thin, black boy once it’s inbounded, allowing him to charge to the opposite end of the court. He wears a white wifebeater with plain red shorts.

The teams are divided by color. One wears black and gray the others plain white.

Once he passes the half-court line his defender takes place. The red shorted boy steps left and back right in his modified ‘Change of Pace’ to easily get past them before continuing up. He gets stopped once again when a buffer, more skilled, and better-looking player drops his man to pick up the slack in an old gray And1 smack-talk shirt and blue short with a white stripe going down the side. The outfit is finished off with a pair of well kept, clean, white original Tai Chis.

The red shorted boy back-tracks rather than try to get past him and takes a simple jump shot from the three-point line.

The boy’s name is Rick by the way. They call him Clerick because “his shots always go in like magic”. In reality, he’s just garbage.

“How about you stop hiding behind the line for once?” I call him out.

“You’re just mad you can't block my jump shot,” he boasts as one of my teammates grabs the ball.

“Your jump shot won't help at Pro-Street,” they inbound it to me.

“Pro-Street is a joke. The only reason anyone is showing up is to turn it into a meme.” Rick replies as he follows me down the court.

“That’s why you’re in it right? Because you’re a joke,” I trash talk as I stop just after the half court line.

“I’m just gonna give the people what they want,” he continues to the paint.

I eye up the court as I pick the easiest lane meanwhile one of Rick’s teammates looks to join the conversation.

A big man named Lahkus and that's what people call him. But if you must know he has the title ‘Radius’ you can guess why.

“I know yo ass ain't talking bout Pro-street when I know you ain't never stepped foot in no Jumpers.”

I pick to try and break past him since he’s speaking with me, “What was that? Two, three double negatives?” I play around with him as I dribble the ball through and around my legs repeatedly since he’s too slow to actually take it.

“So you can't count now?” Rick replies obviously not wanting to deal with me. “You know you can still try out if you think your handles are really that good.”

“And I’m called The Professor why again?” I run past Lahkus and take the open two-handed slam, since they're so preoccupied.

“Because you do is play with kids that don't know what they’re doing.”

I point at him, “you need to stop insulting yourself like that, it’s not healthy.” I slap the ball to their inbounder.

“You keep talking because you know you wouldn't even make it to Pro-Street. You or those Wal-mart brand sneakers,” he points down at my feet.

“These ‘Wal-mart brand sneakers’ used to be on all kinds of players in the NBA.”

“But you were never in the NBA were you.”

“Know what, I got you.” I walk off the court. “Take my spot,” I gesture to a standby.

“I’ll see you when you come back cryin’!” He yells out to me.

“You focus on losin’ that game,” I grab my keys from off a bench and leave.

I go to my Malloy Hoverbike (Don't ask how I could afford it) and ride down to a crowded blacktop. The court can't be seen through the sea of people but the backboard can from behind the tall green gate guarding it.

Pro-Street uses these custom goals that have to be more than twice the height of a normal one, but no one’s actually gotten the chance to measure.

I push through the crowd to reach a black table, covered in And1 logos and products for the taking. Sitting at the table is two old white dudes, two of the founders actually. Seth and Jay, but of course I didn't know that at the time.

“I wanna play!” I yell so they can hear me.

Seth pulls a tablet out from under the table, “What’s your name?”

“Dwight…”

“Not your real name, your moniker.”

“The Professor.”

He starts to laugh and turns to Jay, “What is that, like the 12th one so far? If I were you I would go with something else. All you're gonna do is get compared to the real Professor, and you're nowhere close.”

I gain a cheesy grin, “I might surprise you.”

“They all said that and none of them impressed us,” Jay replies.

“I’ll be the first.”

“Keep thinking that,” Seth taps through the screen before handing it to me. “And don't think wearing our stuff grants you any favor.”

“I was already wearing it when I decided to come here.” I finish filling everything out including paying an entrance fee with my credit card, then handing the tablet back to him.

“Go over there to get fitted with a trainer,” he points to a large black van, also fitted with logos. “You’ll be called out when it’s your turn.”

I do as he says and enter the van to see three simple steel cyborg-like legs aka Jumpers lined up in front a bench.

“Sit down,” A guy orders wearing an And1 baseball cap, hoodie, sweats, finished off a pair of modified Attack Mids.

I sit behind one the legs and places mine in them before starting to adjust them to fit me properly. “How much is it costing you guys to do this? I mean you guys have to make Jumpers for everyone you accept, not to mention modifying the courts.”

He ignores me and finishes with the legs, “go outside.”

I follow orders and am surprised at how natural the Jumpers feel, as I don't even need to get used to moving in them. Too bad that isn't what I need to worry about.

I push my way to the sidelines of the court because where else would I go.

When I get there I grip the fence as I see Kimar Edwards running a train on a guy. Kimar, of course, played in high school then college, but once he joined the NBA no one forgot his name since. If you must know what he looks like, he’s a tall, skinny, black dude with a Caesar that’s forgotten to shave for a minute. He used to have twists but recently shaved them off.

I look up at the scoreboard to see it’s 0 and 19 in his favour then it sinks into me what I’m walking into.

Kimar doesn't show off, taking the ball from his opponent and slamming it in like it’s as simple as walking. He gets up the to the basket with not only the enhancement from the Jumpers but a burst of air shot from underneath them.

He gets to 21 and the announcer comes on mic, “Wow, show some mercy. You couldn't at least let him get one in.”

Kimar shrugs.

“Can we add a mercy rule for this guy? Let me have… Another Professor? These people need to get more original,” he sighs. “Bring him out.”

I walk around and enter through a gate separating everything, with a resounding ‘Boo!’ coming from the crowd.

“Come on guys, it’s just a name. Give the guy a chance.”

They don't stop. I try to ignore them as I take the ball from Kimar and move behind the arc.

“Good luck,” he states before we start.

I run straight towards him with a simple high dribble trying to scare him off guard as the Jumpers throw a large burst of air under me to throw me forward. I keep my eyes locked on his as I toss the ball at the gap between his legs but when the ball gets down there, so does his hand. He uses his own burst to step around me. I try to throw myself back to follow but I'm running too fast to do so and just throw myself to the floor with my burst. The crowd cheers at my failure but I ignore them.

He circles back from the three-point line as I get up, taking the long way around to take advantage of me not knowing how to use the legs. I lunge at him but miss as he picks up speed, having me slide into the gate.

“Ohh, that had to hurt,” the announcer states.

Kimar dunks the ball and waits for me to walk back to the line before giving me the ball back.

I decide to go a different route this time and take advantage of the legs. Jumping up to throw a shot out, but my inexperience gets me again by jumping too high.

I sling the ball at the hoop hoping my aim would help me but Instead, it hits the rim and bounces back, flying over my shoulder.

I close my eyes as I fall to the ground, scared of what the impact would be like but when I connect with the ground it feels like a normal jump. I didn't feel any air come out from under me but that has to be happening when you fall.

I open my eyes to see the ball bouncing outside the bounds and Kimar going to get it.

We reset a few more times as every idea I try ends up with me either on the ground or with the ball out of bounds. We get to 0 and 10 before I nail down something that should work.

I jump up again but this time he jumps with me. I hold the ball hoping that the height of our jumps differ enough for a cleaner shot but he matches me as we reach the peak.

He stares me down, waiting for me to make a move. I make a panic decision and bring my hands over my shoulders, slinging the ball over my head before I hope for the best.

He grabs the ball out the air and waits for us to reach the ground. He quickly steps over the line as I reach for the ball as he dribbles. I chase him as we get closer to the basket, trying my best to reach in for the ball but he easily moves the ball around my hand.

I follow him up to the basket continuing to try and get the ball despite him firmly holding it. I hold my left hand on the ball hoping to hold him back, but when we reach the basket he lets go.

He brings his hand underneath and guides the ball behind my left side to pour it in so I reach with my opposite arm to try and push it away but he pushes back and overpowers me as the ball has no choice but to go in.

When we get back to the ground I give up on winning. I wasn't going to fill a gap this large against a pro, so when we reset I go to showing off instead of looking for shots.

I start to wrap the ball between and around my legs like I did earlier in this story, challenging him to take it.

He smiles and watches my movements carefully before reaching. I pull the ball away from him and cut to the right but he pulls the ball from between my legs. As he runs away I reach for his shirt and push it up over his head as I fall from trying to keep up.

Not expecting it Kimar leaves a large enough opening for me to take the ball back. I scramble to my feet and charge for the basket. I mistime my burst and end up directly under it by the time I get the height. I wrench my arm around to force the ball in, but my momentum slams my head into the rim.

The pain stuns me, causing me to fail to brace for the fall. I slam my back into the ground, cringing from the 20-foot drop.

I actually don't remember what happened after that very well. I just know they rushed me back to the van to make sure I was ok. I more or less was, but my back still hurt like a bitch.

What I do remember though, was that I didn't make it. It sucked because if it wasn't for that one screw up I would have. They just wanted players that were loose and would have fun more than players that were actually good.

But the bright side, if you could call it that, was that I could try out again… Just not there. I had to follow them to their next location and try out again if I wanted to play, but I’m not gonna talk about that game because anyone could tell I went and made it.

Instead, let’s just return to those guys from earlier. I rejoined then after I finished up at the first Pro-Street court. It was night, but the idiots were still playing, only stopping since I showed up.

“Heard that you took a fall!” Rick teases.

“Screw off.”

He bursts out laughing, “You did, who were you even playing against?”

“Kimar Edwards,” that answer entertains him more.

“Damn, you got Kimar. I just got some no-name streetballer,” he's beside himself as he laughs.

“Lucky you,” I growl.

“Still mad he splattered you across the blacktop?” He continues to giggle to himself.

“He didn't, I screwed up a jump.”

“That’s even more embarrassing. I would just lie and say that he fouled me or something.”

“I’m not you. And regardless…” I lift up my shirt to show a bandage wrapped around me. “...People are gonna do their research.”

“Remind me to look up the video later,” he takes the ball from someone and starts to play with it. Meanwhile, I flip him off.

“I’m guessing you didn't make it either?” He starts to spin it on his finger.

“No, but they said I could try again when they're in Missouri.”

“You have to go a whole state over!” He continues to laugh.

I continue to flip him off.

“Don't waste your time. If you don't lose first round, you’re gonna lose to my team.”

“Save the entrance fee for gas or something,” Lahkus hypes him up.

“You're forgetting about the gas money to just get there,” someone else inputs.

I point to Rick, “making him look stupid is worth burning a couple bills.”

“But you won't,” Rick replies before walking off. “Imma go home.”

“You’re the one that brought the ball,” Lahkus comments.

“Then we’re all going home,” I state as I start off as well.

Did I need to add that last section in...? Probably not, I’m just gonna fast forward to Miami. Hope you're not disappointed. I mean, why would you want to read about a bunch of pointless basketball games.

When we get to the hotels they have us set up in, they introduce us to our teams. I get tossed into a group called ‘The Ghosts’. It's a simple team of twelve, two of each player type. The Jumpers are what was odd though, everyone got their own custom pair. No two looked exactly alike for any of the teams. Some were bigger or had more screws, bolts and plates, not all of them looking the same. Some had texture while others were smooth… You get the point. The issue is, they didn't really consult us on what we liked. If you got a pair you didn't like, you were stuck with it. We weren't even allowed to trade. It was unfair to most people, but they were free so who were we to complain.

We got uniforms made up of different shades of white. You wouldn't be able to make out our numbers from a distance but it was obvious that was the point. As we greeted each other we figured out our team was a group of rejects that had to try out twice.

Since they really aren't that important I’m just gonna tell who they are. First, there was Junk Dogg and Reptar. They would end up our centers. Junk a skinny black kid with an afro and Reptar, some weirdo in a Rugrats mask. Then Rictor and Brooke, our Power forwards. Rictor a fat white kid and I mean kid. Then Brooke a busty goth girl (at least she looked the part). Don't ask why we made them our PFs, I don't know either. For small forwards, we had Scooby and Bury. Scooby was a nasty mofo that reeked of B.O. it was hard to tell if he was black or just stained. On the other side, Bury was a tall blond pretty boy. They were both quick and probably would of had better positions if they were better at the game. For shooting guards, we had two dudes that were actually surprising to not have made it through the first time from looking at them. Two mountains of black going the names of Axle and Youth, each seeming like they swapped bodies with people half the size based on how they moved. Then Im'ma finish off with the point guard. Somehow I ended up one of them despite being a far better PF, which says a lot about our team’s capabilities. I’m not going to mention anyone else because they were bench players. Yes, that's all we used but it doesn't matter because we didn't follow those titles at all. Pick a man and stick with it.

We eventually took the time to try and go practice as actually being able to control the Jumpers is the biggest part of the game. And since we’ve only done so twice, we had a lot to get through.

They had a custom indoor court built for the event, or rather they had a sponsor do it. It’s one of the few things that didn't come out of And1’s pocket but I still can't wrap my mind around the amount that went into that event. Yeah, the court was used after it, but still. The whole thing was like a billion dollar advertisement. But to get to the point, all teams were allowed to practice whenever they wanted and the issue with that is obvious.

We enter the American Airlines Arena, everyone being amazed by its monstrous size. For reference, in 2018 it had 20,000 seats. Now it’s been enlarged to 100,000 with multiple venues, in other words, And1 got its own exclusive court next to the Heat’s.

The inside is like a giant touchscreen as everything reacts to, of course, touch. They get to change the interior whenever they want, your footsteps set off lights, if you were to decide to throw something at the roof it does as well, and… that’s basically it. It’s an expensive gimmick.

Me and my team eventually make our way to the court to find it packed with virtually every other team. If people weren't bumping into each other they were fighting, so we turned around and walked out. Instead, we decide to skip on figuring out how to shoot properly and focus on mobility.

We ran and jumped around having fun, getting a crowd to follow us as we tossed the ball to each other. Despite just screwing around it actually helped us get used to the jumpers, eventually able to move as if we never put them on. Especially since And1 failed to address the practice issue and everyone was too stupid to make a schedule.

So instead of learning to shoot on a proper court, we ended up using a random blacktop. We split the team six and six, I got Brooke, Reptar, Youth, Bury (I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing), and a random that, spoiler alert, won’t get their hands on the ball this whole story. Also during the tour, we replaced him with Junk Dogg, as this would be our starters. Figure the other side out on your own.

I inbound the ball to Brooke, and yes they had her run the ball up to watch her bounce. I had nothing to do with it, the fact that I had to be behind her proves it. When she gets down there it quickly becomes obvious she wasn't planning on passing the ball to anyone. If you wondering how I could tell, the way she dribbled got loose aka she was planning to have fun.

She walks out to the arc and waits for Rictor to get on his guard. She over exaggerates the sway of her body, doing so rhythmically while she passes the ball back and forth between her legs. It doesn't take very long for her to get the majority of the idiots to take their eyes off her hips where they’re supposed to be and move them to her chest. She uses the distraction to create a lane for an open layup, but when she jumps up she instead kicks it back to me on the side of the arc like I was supposed to know what she planning. But being the greatness that I am, I jump up and grab the ball mid-air tossing back a clean three.

“What was that!” I call out to her.

“I...I’m not that good at layups,” she mutters as she shuffles away from me.

I sigh and state as comforting as possible, “then we need to fix that then. Anyone else have something they need to get better at…” I pick up my voice again as people start to raise their hands, “other than shooting, we can't fix that in a week.” The hands start to go down which felt a little comforting despite knowing some of them thought they were better than they really were.

“We should get our teamwork down before focusing on individual abilities,” Junk suggests.

“A team is only as strong as its weakest link, why cover for someone’s weaknesses when we can remove it all together,” Reptar replies.

“If they haven't gotten rid of it by now, you think they will by the time we play. If someone needs to fix something they can do it later.”

“It doesn't really matter,” I mediate. “We came here to work on teamwork, what’s the point in changing the plan now…Especially if so many of us have nothing they want to improve on,” I state while I watch for reactions. “Let’s run it…” I start walking back to the other side of the court as the others finally take their possession. “And guys stop staring at her tits. If you can't handle her how are you going to play against any of the other girls here.”

They have Axle run the ball down and like I said before. He runs extremely awkward, he also can't handle the ball for the life of him as the ball goes all over the place as he has no clue how to the move. it’s still impossible for me to figure out how he even plays basketball let allow got past tryouts. The fact that Youth wasn't much better escapes me more but at least he could move the ball. Those two beg for the ball to be taken from them with their lack of handles. When he gets down he immediately gives up the ball to Junk Dogg, who uses his small size to squeeze through and jump up to slam the ball in with the Jumpers assistance. That would be cool and all if there weren't actual children that made it in who could potentially do the job better. It would also be cool if I couldn't jump up and smack the ball from his hands.

Then unimportant stuff happened because wouldn't it be boring to see how we play before the tournament. Nothing would be new, it’s not like our playbook is a novel and I don't feel like drawing this out longer than I have to. I'm just gonna jump to the date of the first game, if you a problem with that find another perspective of this story.

In the morning they gather us on the court for an orientation. Instead of the founders showing up, there's a female representative in front a laptop with a mic in their ear.

“Finally, you are welcome to Pro-Street. We hope that you have used your practice time wisely over the past month you’ve been here. But from what we’ve heard most of you haven't, we hoped that you would be able to figure that stuff out on your own, but apparently not. Now we would like to keep this meeting short, mostly because there’s already a crowd building up outside. If you haven't realized by now, it would take a very long time to have one game at a time. So there won't be, as some of you may have noticed as you’ve explored the city there are a total of six courts set up in the area including this one.”

From where I stood no one seems to have noticed. Leaving me to think we may of all been blind or they are fairly spread out...Back to the speech.

“All of those courts are outdoors where if they try hard enough the public can see, so maybe you’ll be lucky enough to get this nice air conditioned one with limited wind resistance. And if you're wondering, those who have bought tickets can stream the games to any device they like so if there’s two games your friends and family want to see at once then they can watch at once. That also applies to fans that don't want to sit out in the heat, but of course, if people don't like the format we’ll slow things down…”

She rambles a bit longer before they finally reveal the brackets and of course we not only play first, we play outside. They had to be trying to screw us over but what were we supposed to do about it. Before we left I ran into Rick, he was in a red and copper uniform being part of a team called the Phoenix.

“I would say that it looks like we’ll meet in the second game, but you won't get past your first one,” he wastes no time to trash talk.

“Y…” he cuts me off before I can deliver my witty retort.

“Dude, there's no way in hell you’re winning with a team of rejects. You only have like three players that are actually meh and two that barely useful.”

“Don't talk about my team, they could be a team of retarded kids and we’d still blow past you,” I calmly reply.

“Okay, I won't, but look who you’re playing,” he points out a team in royal purple and blue. “They're the favorites and you just so happen to be the opposite. You’d know that if you researched.”

“Unlike you, we spent our time training,” I call him out, but he was right for us to be worried from looking at them. They had everything we could have but better and since they were the favorites there was probably a 99% chance they did. If you can't figure out the difference on your own, they had a hotter girl (who we’ll call 00), a quick kid (32), two tall black dudes that had to actually know what they were doing (23 and 42), you get the point.

Skip ahead again because none of that crap matters, they drove everyone that was playing to their assigned courts as everyone that brought a ticket flooded into the A3. I mean, not a single ticket holder showed up to the outside games. Outside of family and friends, of course, all you got if you played outside were people climbing fences and sitting on shoulders.

When we get on the court the other team gets the ball first. Yes, we didn't jump ball, there wasn't even a ref. They employ the same “strategy” of having their girl run the ball down and unfortunately it still works as she grabs their attention even more than Brooke did. She goes to take the lane the idiots leave open. Since me and Brooke were apparently the only ones paying attention, we had to try double teaming. Emphasis on try, I tried to break away from my man but the dude acted like he was on defense and kept me from interfering.

00 took the time to get a feel for Brooke, stopping in front the rim in case the others actually tried to do something. She dribbles small circles around Brooke, showing off as she baits her into trying to take the ball. Considering there's no shot clock in street ball, the guys enjoyed the show as the girls’ bodies moved. Brooke eventually gives up on finding an opening and reaches allowing 00 to slam the ball between Brooke’s legs and jump up, then windmill to back to slam the ball in with two hands. What was really impressive about it was how fast she got up. It was like there was a secret to the jumpers we didn't know, like how to get a larger burst or something. Maybe her’s was just more powerful… I wish I looked into that now.

We quickly took the ball and had Brooke start running it down before 00 can even land, I mean, it’s not like it was against the rules. Considering 00 was maning Brooke someone was going to be open and since I was behind her, that happened to be me. My man took her instead of leaving her, well unmanned. So as soon as I got past the half-court line Brooke snapped back to me. Instead of going for a jumper I went for the long distance slam. I was so sure about getting there I forgot about there was another team so when I got to the rim I was surprised to find the ball getting packed against the glass by 00.

“That's not happening here,” she talks down to me as she uses her right to punch the ball from mine, catch it and sling it to the opposite of the court. 42 had already gone back to be ready for it, taking the alley the sound of the basket wrenching from the power being heard all the way from the other side.

After three more failed attempts to get one down or stop them from doing so, we call a much-needed timeout. Weather we attacked the basket or shot one off, someone was there to stop the ball. That someone usually being 00, that girl could probably beat our entire team on her own. Giving her players to hold his back was just unfair at that point, and considering the others were also good, our chances were nil.

Instead of having Brooke on 00 we moved Scooby to her, hoping the smell would get her out the way. We then try moving Brooke to whoever seemed weakest to females, which was no one so we just had her pick randomly based on who was open. Also since it was distracting us more than them I forced the perverts to stop having Brooke run the ball.

Once we get back on the court I instead hand the ball to Scooby. Once he gets down, he gets manned by 17 but it doesn't last long as the smell almost immediately drives him off the court. Then not realizing what was wrong, being the good girl she was 00 took his place and is off the court even faster as she goes to puke in the corner. Watching her reinforces the fact no one’s attractive when they’re puking (unless you're into that) but it allows us to get out the first point as no one wanted to be anywhere near Scooby. It makes you wanna ask ‘why didn't I think of that earlier’ then you remember you have to smell it too. It eventually drives everyone off the court as we couldn't bear it either, soon forcing someone from And1 to come and do something about it. Fortunately for us, smelling like a sewer wasn't against the rules. Unfortunately, pretty much everyone refused to continue playing. That lead to the ultimatum to play or both be disqualified, therefore causing both teams to empty to their stomachs and bare the smell. I’m not exaggerating with this at all. Scooby became the equalizer as no one wanted to be anywhere near him. He treated like a dunk contest as that point, but no one wanting to guard him didn't affect their offense.

They just ran away from him and stayed behind the arc, allowing us to keep up as they couldn't drain all their shots. For example of one of our runs, (I don't feel like giving a play by play of every shot anymore) 00 ran the ball down again. This time around, the perverts were able to keep their head on the game enough to do something. Once she passes the line she picks it off to 32 so she doesn't have to deal with scooby chasing the ball around like a dog. And since 32 also didn't want to deal with it he immediately throws one up, just to have it easily swatted away by Junk dogg at the top of its arc. So now you know the three options of what happened after the first, I think six shots (I’m not going back to count). You can make up what happened where on your own. Jump to the final shot, it was 20 - 20 (the game would probably be 21 - 0 by now if it wasn't for Scooby) It was their ball, so all we had to do was force a turnover and hope they don't power through Scooby in the end. Instead of having 00 run it down this time, they give it to 42 who jumps up and launches a full court shot and makes it in like he could have done it in his sleep. (I was so excited when I started this, then I remembered how bad the game actually was.) If it makes you feel any worse, the other team went on to win the whole thing with us having the closest score by miles… So it wasn't a complete loss. I shouldn't upload this but It’s finished so… Yeah.


© Copyright 2018 Wyn. All rights reserved.

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