Action

            The ball ricocheted off of the palms of her hands before she steadied herself to take a shot. Gripping it, she launched it toward the hoop. Her hands flew in opposite directions as her elbows straightened, and the ball followed a narrow arc up toward the hoop. Clanging off of the back of the rim, it caught a lucky second bounce and slid through the net. Her next foul shots in the first half of the intramural game followed in the same fashion.

            Leading her team in points, she tried trick plays and silly maneuvers as they were ahead by 21. She sent a bounce pass behind her as she ran diagonally cross court to the hoop during a fastbreak, and her body tumbled across the paint until she knocked into the wall. Within seconds, officials and players were at her side, prodding her body parts.

            “Don’t touch IITTTTT!” she shrilled from the bottom of the pile. Three bodies bounced up and scooted to the bench. Lying on her back, she rolled from side to side clutching her knee to her chest like I had seen her hold her teddy bear so many nights. Her eyes squinted shut, eyebrows furrowed; she braced for more pain as she reached up for a helping hand. “Just stay still so I can grab you – don’t touch meee!” she squeaked, loud enough for the entire court to hear. After pulling herself up, she stood on one foot like a flamingo standing in a pond, trying to find her balance. One boy offered his arm at her side and she shoved it away. As she hopped to the sideline, I shrugged at her and rounded up my team to continue the game.