The basketballs were pushed into their usual spot in the closet.
17 months later.
The jerseys were tucked away in bins.
17 months later.
The bleachers’ seats were pushed back against the wall.
17 months later.
17 months later.
Our jerseys cried for us, and the bleacher seats longed to hear the cheers of the crowd.
The court was left empty, the same painted lines that had been there for years still etched the floor. Everything and everyone gave up on the game.
17 months later.
17 months later.
Everyone except one person.
He sat against his chair rubbing his hands on his forehead.
The hope was so little he thought to himself, the chance is so slim.
17 months later.
17 months later he announced 12 girls to his team.
12 girls had pushed the thought of the game out of their head because it only hurt to think that they wouldn’t be able
to play.
17 months later.
17 months later the balls were pulled back out of their usual spot.
17 months later the jerseys were brought out.
17 months later the bleacher seats were pulled out and they heard screams of joy as a 3 pointer was hit.
All because of one person.
One person that did not give up on his team full of girls
One person that taught that team this lesson: “only you can be your best coach. I can’t make you work any harder than you can make yourself work.”
17 months later, we played basketball again.
Because of coaches that didn’t give up.
Coach Scott, you are an amazing inspiration to this town. We appreciate all your hard work and dedication.
Jenna Helen Schurter
Silverton
