My wrists and knees aching,
My leg feels like it's breaking,
My lungs burn when I inhale.
The sweat is dripping in my blue eyes,
Like raindrops falling from the sky.

The soreness creeps from head to toe,
My arms flinging to and fro.
Guard with your feet not your body,
Snatch that ball don't be shy.

Racing, Racing, down the court,
To make that lay-up don't stop short.
Get hacked on the wrist,
Go to the line,
Do your routine,
Take your time.

The ball is pressed to my chest,
My hands gripped over the soft orange leather.
I release the ball,
It glides like a feather.
As it passes over the hands reaching tall,
Like there reaching for the twinkling stars.

The ball hits the rim,
It nearly goes in,
The arms below flailing,
The crowd is cheering and wailing.

The buzzer buzzes it's deafening buzz.
There is no winners no losers,
No Better, No worse.
Just two teams fighting,
Fair and square.

Maybe next time we'll get another chance,
but until then,
practice makes perfect.