Front and Center by Catherine Gilbert Murdock Page A

made a three-pointer. They both called time-outs, and then it was down to the last seven seconds. Tyrona made this totally amazing interception and raced downcourt for a lay-up that she also made, and on top of that she got fouled, which meant she got to stand at the free-throw line—just like everyone does, just like I do, bouncing the ball and saying a little free-throw chant—while eight thousand Minnesota fans cheered and two thousand Wisconsin fans screamed and booed and waved their arms and did everything they could to make her miss.
    It was the most intense moment I've ever seen. In basketball, and in life. Because I was there for one thing instead of watching it on TV, which would be like watching from another planet compared to this. And it was so loud. Loud like you can't even imagine. The whole game rested on these two shots! This huge school rivalry, and all these fans who'd paid money for tickets and gone out on a cold Saturday night, driving all the way to Minneapolis, or taking the bus, and they were all expecting Tyrona to perform. To make it.
    Looking around the Barn, my heart stopped. It might as well have been me out there on the free-throw line, all these people waiting for me to win the game for them. My hands started sweating and my mouth went dry, and I had to close my eyes so I didn't see Tyrona take her first shot. But I heard the enormous groan, and the screaming from the Wisconsin side, and I knew she'd missed.
    I forced my eyes open because I had to be there for her second shot. I watched her face as closely as I've ever watched anything. Saw her whisper her little thing, and pluck at her jersey and touch the cross at her neck, and then set her jaw, and shoot.
    And miss. Again.
    The Wisconsin fans started shrieking, and all the Wisconsin players pounded onto the court while eight thousand Minnesota fans just sat there. Some of the little kids were crying.
    Tyrona had made kids cry. She'd blown it, and Minnesota lost. It wasn't
her
fault, I know that; it's everyone on the team who wins and everyone who loses. The other Minnesota players crowded around Tyrona who was crying, which she had every right to do, and you could tell they were all saying just the kind of things I'd say in that situation if I was there, and that their words weren't helping any more than mine would have.
    All of a sudden I had to put my head between my knees. I never in my life want eight thousand people disappointed in me like that, yelling and booing and crying. I mean, look at me. Look how freaked out I got when Jerry Knudsen from freaking Ibsen College watched me play! Look how freaked I got just sitting in Taco Bell!
    Kathy Ott leaned over and squeezed my knee. "You okay?"
    I nodded. I felt too sick to argue.
    "It can be pretty brutal out there." Which she should know as much as anyone, being married to a football coach. "Are you going to be okay with this?"
    "Yeah," I said.
    And you know what? I was.

8. There's No Need to Panic, Because Everything's Going to Work Out Fine
    I T TOOK ME A WHILE, I'll admit. I spent a bunch of hours that night staring into the darkness. But I made my peace, finally, with this whole situation. And this is what I realized: Division I is not for me.
    The next day we stopped by St. Margaret's College, which has a really pretty campus with no ugly buildings at all, and a gym that's as new and big as Hawley's, and I paid extra-close attention to the coach, who because of Win's brainwashing had made a special trip in on Sunday just for me, and everything I saw I liked. I'd probably be the star player, but that's not a bad thing. I might even get to play against the U of M, in money games that would get the school a new floor or a building or a private plane, and if I didn't lose my head I might even make my free throws and get a taste of what it was like to be booed and cheered by ten thousand people. That's all I needed. Just a taste. And it wouldn't matter if we lost so long as I played well,