The Sneakers

The Sneakers

by Ariel Molina Gonzalez

Coach calls timeout. Four seconds left on the clock. My feet feel like they are drenched in blood right now, but that doesn’t stop me from begging Coach to give me the ball for this last play. “I can make the last shot Coach, please trust me with this. You know I’m not gonna let us lose.” Then my teammates start chiming in.

“Coach, I think it’s best to give him the ball. I know he can make the shot,” Markus says while looking at me with faith in his eyes. The crowd is chanting my name so loudly that I start to become deaf to everything else in the room. My feet are still killing me. My legs are sore. My wrist is in pain again. Everything and anything can go wrong right now, but I want to win. Actually, no. I need to win. Ten seconds left in the timeout and we need to make a decision. I look Coach dead in the eyes and say, “We will go to the state finals, trust me.”

“Okay. You guys know what to do.” He looks at the team. “Give it to him.”

After he says that, I know it’s my time. Everything I went through to get here, is finally going to be worth it. Timeout’s over now. Ref gives the ball to Markus to inbound it. Before I step on the court though, I look at my sneakers, and I think about where it all started, and how far they have taken me.

“JUSTIN,” I hear, as I look up.

“How many times do I have to call your name for you to answer me?” my mother says. As I pause the song I’m listening to and take my headphones off, I say, “Sorry Mami, I was listening to music, I couldn’t hear you. Qué pasó?”

“Te dije que lavara los platos antes de llegar a la casa, y no los hiciste!”

I forgot that she told me to wash the dishes before she came home. I knew I should have gotten off the game after that one game, but of course, me being me, one more game turned into 5 more games. “Sorry Ma, I’ll do them right now.” I then get up and wash the dishes like I said. When I finish, I go back to my room and look at the time. “It’s already 8?!?” I say. I didn’t think I was in the game

for that long. I planned on doing my homework around 6, but I was playing the game all that time. I lost track of time again, as usual. I turn off my Playstation and open my laptop to start my work. I just have one assignment to do, an English assignment telling me to write a paragraph about myself, introducing myself to our teacher. It wasn’t the beginning of the year, but my class got a new teacher because our old one had a baby, so she had to leave. I open up the document and start writing the basic information. “My name is Justin. I am 16 years old, and I live in The Bronx. I am Hispanic, and also speak Spanish too. I have many goals in life, but my main goal is to make it to the NBA.” I stop right there because I start thinking to myself, “If only I were good at ball . . . ” I’d always wanted to be a star in the NBA and be good at basketball. I love the sport. It’s fun to play and fun to watch. I was always just a casual player though. I would spend hours practicing at the park, but I couldn’t go often because, well, I live in the Bronx. It’s dangerous outside. People die every day out here, it ain’t safe. So that’s why I always make the most out of my gym time in school. I’ve tried out for the team many times, but I was always cut. 6 months ago is what stopped me from playing for a while though. I broke my wrist playing 5 vs. 5 at the park with my friends and some randoms. I still remember it clearly. Me and my friends were playing against some randoms, and they were playing very aggressive with us, so on one play, I was going up for a layup, and I got pushed in the air. I tried to break the fall with my hands, but that didn’t end well, and so I landed on my wrist. I still remember everyone screaming and arguing about that. There was about to be a fight between my friends and the randoms but eventually it got broken up and we left. So after all those memories coming back I just remembered that the last day of tryouts was next week so I should get some practice in until then. Now focusing back on my assignment, I just left it like that and closed my laptop. I lay down on my bed and open up YouTube, and watch some videos until I fall asleep.

The next morning when I wake up is normal, just like any other day. There is supposed to be a heavy rainstorm after school, so I bring my coat with me. I’m not too worried about getting home either because my mom said she could pick me up. The day seemed like it was going by fast, and as the school day was ending, the storm started to hit. Last period hit and I couldn’t wait to get out of school. As soon as the

bell rang, I get out of my seat so fast, excited to get home and chill. As soon as I leave the building it’s pouring, heavy rain and winds. I can’t see my mother’s car though. I call her and she answers, telling me she’s stuck at work, so I have to walk home. I am so pissed. I’m just glad I brought my coat. I run to the deli real quick to buy an umbrella with some money I have. I then leave and start walking to the bus stop, and wait for a good 10 minutes. Twenty minutes go by and I get to my stop, so I get off and start walking 5 minutes to get to my house. As I’m walking fast, a strong wind pulls my umbrella back and breaks it, so it flies out my hand, leaving me with nothing. As that happens though, a pair of sneakers fall off of the phone line above me, and they fall right in front of me. They’re a pair of old Jordans. They look like they would fit me, so I take them with me. I don’t have many sneakers anyway, so I look at it as a free pair of sneakers. When I get home, I bring the sneakers to the bathroom and dry them with a towel. I then look at the size and it’s 8.5, while I’m a 9.

“Damn, if only it were my size,” is what I say. I try them on anyway though, and when I put them on, I get chills all of a sudden. I get a weird feeling in my body after I put them on. They feel kinda tight, but wearable. I then take the sneakers off and put them on my table. I take a shower and a nap because I’m tired. I then wake up in the middle of the night but I just go right back to sleep. In the morning, when I wake up, I remember it’s Saturday, so I just chill for that day. Next day comes and the weather looks nicer so I call my friends and tell them to come to the park and play ball with me, so I can get some practice for the last day of tryouts. Everybody pops out and we meet at the park. I bring my new sneakers with me to play with them. As I get to the park and put the sneakers on, I get the same chills I got when I first put them on. I then think to myself, “Maybe these sneakers will make me better.” I’m obviously joking, but as the game starts and goes on, my skills are impressively better. I’m making all my shots, all my layups, I’m even jumping higher. I got better at basketball out of nowhere, and I was even confused myself, other than my friends. After the game, on my way home, I realize that the sneakers had been giving me my ability. I actually felt like Jordan. After that, the next day in school would be the last day of tryouts for the basketball team. I go there with the sneakers, and I dominate. I’ve never played so good in my life! Everybody is confused about how I got this good, but of course only I know how. Tryouts finish and the

next day I go to the gym to look at who made it because they post a paper on the wall with who did. I look and I see my name, and from that day on, I am part of the team, thanks to my sneakers of course. Now I know I have to get some buzz around this school.

I wear those sneakers to every game I play for the team. As time goes by, my feet start to grow, so the sneakers start to feel tighter on my feet every day. My feet now start feeling pain after balling in them for a few minutes. The time comes, though, when there is one game left in the series that leads to the State finals. Whoever wins this game goes to the finals. First quarter comes and I’m balling out like usual, and my feet are killing me already. Our team is down 37-40 when the quarter is done. Second quarter comes and we have to get the score up. On one play where I’m going up for a layup, I get hard fouled. I fall hands-first to the ground, right on my right wrist that was broken last year. The crowd goes crazy.

“THAT’S A HARD FOUL WHAT WAS THAT?!?!?!?” Coach screams from the sidelines. I don’t feel pain until I get up because as soon as I put my hand on the ground to get up, I feel a sting in my wrist. “Oh no,” I say. My wrist is in bad pain, but I don’t say anything because I don’t want to get taken out of the game. I need to win, so I just fight through the pain and act as if I were fine. As I’m up, I walk to the free throw line to shoot my frees. I shoot the first shot, and I miss. I am in disbelief. “No way,” I think to myself. Maybe it’s because of my wrist. The pain was really affecting my shot. I shoot the next free throw with my left hand and I make it. I’m glad that went in, but I’m still thinking about why my sneakers didn’t let me make the shot even with my injured wrist. Never mind that though, I have to focus on the rest of the game. 67-63 is the score at halftime. My feet are in excruciating pain right now, but I walk through it. When I go to the locker room and take my sneakers off, something drips out of them. It’s blood. My feet were bleeding. It was probably from blisters I was getting. I ask Coach for new socks and he gives a pair of extras to me. I take the bloody ones off without anyone noticing and clean the blood on my feet with that same sock. I put the new socks on and then put my shoes on. I loosen the laces up a bit so that my feet won’t feel so tight, and it helps just a bit. For the rest of that game, I play the best basketball I can, and with my left hand. Now it’s the fourth quarter.

Coach calls timeout. Four seconds left on the clock. My feet feel like they are drenched in blood right now, but that doesn’t stop me from begging Coach to give me the ball for this last play. “I can make the last shot Coach, please trust me with this. You know I’m not gonna let us lose.” Then my teammates start chiming in.

“Coach, I think it’s best to give him the ball. I know he can make the shot,” my teammate Markus says while looking at me with faith in his eyes. The crowd is chanting my name so loudly that I start to become deaf to everything else in the room. My feet are still killing me. My legs are sore. My wrist is in pain again. Everything and anything can go wrong right now, but I want to win. Actually no. I need to win. Ten seconds left in the timeout and we need to make a decision. I look Coach dead in the eyes and say, “We will go to the state finals, trust me.”

“Okay. You guys know what to do. Give it to him.” After he says that, I know it’s my time. Everything I went through to get here, is finally going to be worth it. Timeout’s over now. Ref gives the ball to Markus to inbound it. Before I step on the court, though, I look at my sneakers, and I think about where it all started, and how far they have taken me. “JUSTIN” I hear, as I look up. “Come on, you got this” my teammate says. I step on the court and the ref blows the whistle. It’s game time. I run around the court trying to get my defender off me, and as I try to create space I end up in front of half court. They pass me the ball. 3.

I step up and set my feet. 2.

As I go to jump, I don’t feel my legs or my feet. I just feel my feet pushing up by themselves. It’s the sneakers. 1.

My hands go up and I shoot the shot with my right hand, forgetting about my bad wrist. The ball leaves my hands now and is in the air. 0. The shot clock buzzes. As everyone watches the ball, including me, I pray it goes in. The ball hits the rim, goes up, and then comes right back down, in the hoop.

“JUSTINNNN!” Everyone screams. We won. I won.