It was a cool, crisp fall day. The smell of old rubber mixed with a subtle hint of sweat filled the sturdy old gym. The sound of sneakers squeaking on hardwood and the sounds of long, hard gasps were familiar to this setting. “Brother, basketball tryouts are approaching! Will you sign up?" Jouse, my best friend, asked me "Yes, of course!" I exclaimed. Almost spontaneously the coach appeared behind us only to write our names on the sign-up sheet and then glance at us with a slight smile on his face just before disappearing into the crowded school corridor. TOMORROW'S TESTS written in bold letters at the bottom of the registration sheet gave us light. The next day I arrived early at half past six in the morning creaked its bright light, I walked through the old rusty door of our glorious school gymnasium only to find half the school waiting to start rehearsals. I was nervous, almost scared if I was too cold, right then and there every single horrible situation flashed before my eyes. Whether it was me tripping over untied shoelaces or a state-of-the-art jet crashing into the ceiling causing only personal injury. But before I knew it, the auditions were over and not a single thing had gone wrong. To this day I still can't remember a single thing I did in training that year. Walking out the door I stopped abruptly when the coach stopped me with a serious expression as usual. “Nice work out there Jobin, we could use more guys like you on our team.” The coach said “Gee, thanks coach” I said hoping I had pleased him He nods and then says “You got it” and then walks out of the gym without saying a word “Yes, yes, yes!” I exclaimed to myself in a low voice. The games were... in the center of the card... on my arm, a loud snap came from the sound of my arm and hand of their centers. I had been fouled and the whistle had been blown, but the ball was still in the air and I watched as he made three bounces off the rim, BOUNCE, BOUNCE, BOUNCE, BOUNCE he made the ball. Then, after four suspenseful seconds of rolling on the edge, it finally tipped over. I looked up at my coach who smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up. SWISH made my free throw. As I ran back to the end of the field I could tell it was going to be a good game. The rest of the day went like a breeze. I come home, shower, eat, then go to sleep in my bed. As I lay more tired than ever I painted to myself "Fifty-five-twenty-three, damn, we lost a lot." From that moment on I never looked at a basketball without thinking of the fat hanging from the black, sweaty, ridged center.