Staring out the window, watching the road go by as my heart rate speeds up with every mile the bus travels. I hear nothing but the sound of the music playing in my ears as I think of all the possible outcomes of the game.

Will we win? Will we lose? Will I mess up? What if I airball?

Thoughts keep coming to me as anxiety begins to take the wheel–steering me in all the wrong directions.

It’s all okay I tell myself, your teammates are here with you.

That’s right. Andi is next to me sound asleep. Skylar and Mackenzie laugh at something they see on their phones. Everyone looks so calm. Is it just me who’s panicking? The bus comes to a halt, and Coach Neale tells us something, but I don’t understand it. My heartbeat echoes too loud to hear anything.

Walking with Skylar and Andi, I think about all of the good things that could happen during the game trying to distract myself with Skylar’s jokes and Andi’s smile as we walk into the visitor team locker room. There is a different emotion on everyone’s face. Some smile and laugh while others do the same as me. Overthink. Sitting on the bench, tying my basketball shoes and adjusting my headband, I walk out with my team ready to warm up.

Lining up on the baseline to stretch, Skylar calls out what to do and we all follow her lead. Every squeak of our shoes on the floor and every second that goes by on the big red numbers counting down the minutes until we take off our warm-up gear and play basketball. Once we finish, our manager passes us the balls, and we begin the second part of our warm-up. The clock shows ten minutes left. Ten minutes until the game starts. Ten minutes until my mind finally quiets down, and I can focus on the game itself and having fun with my team. At the minute mark on the clock, Coach Smith calls us over for our pre-game talk. I can feel my heart pounding again, but this time adrenaline takes the wheel. The excitement for the game is all I can think about as Coach Smith tells my five teammates what position they will play and what drills he wants us to run. The buzzer sounds, we take off our warm-up gear, do our chant and cheer on our girls as they head to the court to start the game.

Watching the referee hold the ball and give Tochi and the opposing team the rundown that they have perfectly rehearsed for every game. The ball goes up and time slows. Tochi jumps and tips the ball behind her, right into Skylar’s hands. Starting the game. Our families cheer us on from the stands, watching the ball whizz from person to person. Skylar yells the plays and the first basket is made. Cheering erupts from the bench as they play defense. Timeout! Coach calls and the referee blows his whistle and everyone gathers around Coach. “Gandy, Andi, Sienna, Tochi and Kennedi are on for the last part.” He tells us, and we all nod. It’s my turn to play. As soon as my feet cross over the line, my mind shifts gears, the adrenaline rushes in, the ref blows the whistle and the other team passes the ball in, and I’m instantly on the girl. My only thought is to get the ball from her and make it to our goal. The girl cusses in my face telling me all of these horrible things that I will repeat to myself later on, but right now my only focus is on the game. As soon as she tries to move, I step in her way, and she flings her arm out. Perfect. I fall backward, and the ref blows the whistle and my teammates cheer as they help me up. The girl tosses the ball to the ref, and we walk to our basket.

The ref gives the same speech he always does when someone gets fouled and has to shoot free-throws. My thoughts are too loud, my heart is beating too loud for me to concentrate. My hands feel sweaty.

Were they always like that?

I shake my head as if I can get myself out of it to shoot two harmless shots, but are they really harmless? Every point can lead to whether we win or lose. I don’t want to be the reason we lose. Once I finish these two shots, the timer will be up, and the game will be done. If I make these we win, and if I don’t then we lose. The ref throws the ball, and I take a deep breath. I don’t like the idea of having the outcome in my hands. I do my dribbling ritual before letting the ball free of my hands. I watch the ball in slow motion as it slides seamlessly into the net, earning a cheer from the bench. The ref tosses the ball to me again, and I do the same thing. The ball is in the air but this time it spins around the rim, teasing everyone watching as it dances on top like it’s stuck and doesn’t know where to go. I let out a breath as if I could blow the ball into the net, and it listens. The ball falls in and Shelly gives me a high five. I did it. I won the game for the whole team. The ball gets passed in, but the buzzer goes off and we win. Everyone cheers, and the coach congratulates us on our win but the most dreaded part has yet to come.

The bus ride back is anything but happy. Silence fills the bus as everyone begins to go over the events of the game in their minds. I can’t think of one thing I did right in the whole game. All I can think about is every mistake I made, every bad pass and every bad shot comes back to haunt me just as the girl’s words do.

You shouldn’t be on this court. You are the worst player on your team.

It hurts but I don’t know why. A bus ride that is meant to be 20 minutes feels closer to an hour. Shelly tries to reassure me that I did good and I’m the reason we won, but it doesn’t feel that way anymore. The car ride home is short and quiet and it’s not until we’ve pulled into the garage that I register where we are.

Home. Home is where my mother’s hugs are, home is where my dad tells me I did great and how I can improve for the next game. All I can think about is my mistakes, but I try to remind myself that every point I made counted, every good pass and dribble counted toward our win. After all, it was just a game.