#4/30 - 2015

I did not prepare

for this.
It is Bout Day
and
I am not ready. I am not hydrated. I am not mentally prepared.

I lived the Roster Alternate life,

prepping for the game as a spectator

as a just in case:

take away the nerves and the self-doubt and the worry.

But now it is real

and my gear is still on after warm up

and the buzz is in my ears

the deafening noise only lessening for my name over the loudspeaker--

a phrase that still thrills me
even 400 days after my christening.
Even though I will probably ride the bench until the second half,
even though I am not prepared,
every face in my jersey beams as my hand hits after my intro lap.
I am a part of this, and it is marvelous.
I nearly run into my captain as I rejoin the line,
hands on hips and toestops sliding as I make my stop,
and she places a hand on my own and says
you got this, don't worry.

But I was fashioned to worry.
I am built of overwrought thought and scenario playouts
and it is all I can take to be still.
Still, my leg shakes as I step up to the jammer line,
seven minutes left in the game,
three points down,
my first jam.
A time-out for a bench violation draws on the waiting
and I try to feel the energy rolling off my teammates
and channel it into slowing my nervous heart.
Five seconds is called
four of my blockers in front of me
three points for me to make up
only two opposing
and the whistle blows.
I am ready.