Driven_589066

Dylan looked up at the clock, though she had the entire scoreboard printed on her retinas. Eleven point nine seconds was a veritable eternity in basketball.

Even if you were behind. Unless, of course, you didn’t have the ball.

“Stern, you’re in for King.” The rangy forward nodded and headed for the scorer’s table to check in with the ref.

“Alright, the rest of you, listen up. We’re gonna be heavy handed on the inbounds. Tippens and LeRoy, I want you in on their passer like you’re glued

together, understand?”

Both women, dripping with sweat, nodded.

“Alright. If you can get a five second violation, we’re good. If not, foul. I don’t care how, just foul. We still have one to give, so make it count.”

“What happens if we can get a five?” Chaney asked, running a hand through her sodden dreds.

“I don’t care who in-bounds,” Dylan replied. “Just get it to Hodge.” She turned to Cat. “If you have an unbelievably free shot, go for it, but if not, hold it as

long as you can, alright? We don’t want this backfiring on us.”

“Got it.”

The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the time out.

“Alright, ladies, let’s win this.”

“Goddess!”

Dylan rolled her eyes, as she did every time her team made its rallying cheer. The team grinned back at her before turning and running onto the court,

ready for action.

Blowing her whistle, the ref handed the ball to the Legend passer. Immediately, the young, rather short, woman was surrounded on two sides by the

Badgers’ forwards, doing their best to block every conceivable passing lane the young woman might think up.

Five seconds later, the whistle blew again. The guard slammed the ball down in frustration, and Chaney ran to the sideline to retrieve it, grinning like a

madwoman.

Giving the Legend players no time to set up, Chaney passed the ball to King, who in turn hit Cat with a perfect bounce pass. Instead of going in for the

shot, which would have meant trying to avoid the Legend center, all six foot seven of her, Cat shot an eye toward the clock, noticed she still had over seven

seconds left, and deliberately slowed her dribble, allowing her teammates time to set up.

It was then that she was hit from behind by a runaway train in the form of the same Legend guard who had failed to get her pass in-bounds. Cat flew into

Chaney, and both women fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The ball jumped from Cat’s hands and skittered across the endline.

The whistle blew as Dylan jumped to her feet. “Flagrant foul! Two, ref!! Two!!”

As soon as the referee held up two fingers, the Legend coach, a never-was by the name of Ken Handley, rushed out onto the court, narrow chest thrust so

far out it looked like he was setting sail. “Bullshit! Bullshit!!”

“Go back to the bench, Coach Handley, or I’ll hit you with a technical.”

“Go ahead! See if I give a flying fuck! You’re killin’ us out here, ref! You’re killin us!”

“Back to the bench, Coach. I’m warning you.”

“Warn this you fucking dyke loving piece of shit!” Handley punched the ball from the referee’s hands, narrowly missing Chaney’s head.

Dylan flew onto the court just as the ref was calling a technical and an ejection. Caulley ran after Dylan and grabbed her by the arm. Dylan shook the

restraining hand off and continued forward, eyes silver and blazing in the brilliant lighting.

Ignoring the irate coach who steeled himself to go toe to toe with her, as if the event had turned from basketball to WCW wrestling, Dylan strode over to

Cat and Chaney, who were on their feet and dusting themselves off.

“You alright?”

“I am,” Cat replied, “but I Chane twisted her ankle pretty bad when I fell on top of her.”

Chaney scowled at Cat. “I’m fine, shortchange.”

“Get Tippens. She’s going in for you.”

“Coach….”

“Do it.”

Sighing, Chaney stalked back to the bench, trying hard not to limp. She was less than successful.

As Chaney left, Dylan turned back to Cat. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Not so much as a skinned knee,” Cat replied, grinning. “Looks like I finally got a break.”

“Don’t jinx it.”

They both looked over at the opposition’s bench as the ejected Handley kicked a chair in true Bobby Knight fashion.

“Jackass,” Dylan muttered, shaking her head. “He just cost his team the game.”

“Think so, huh?” Turning slightly, Cat gazed at the backboard. “Guess it’s time to see if all those hours of free throws paid off, huh?” Her smile was slightly

pained.

“Just do your best,” Dylan replied, putting a hand on Cat’s shoulder and giving it a brief squeeze.

Cat grinned. “You know it.”

With a short nod, Dylan walked off the court as the teams lined up just outside the key. The ubiquitous whistle blew yet again as the referee tossed Cat

the ball.

The large crowd went silent. Not that that mattered to Cat. She wouldn’t have heard them if they were buck naked and playing the Star Spangled Banner on

kazoos. All she heard was the slow, calm beat of her heart overlaid by the sound of the ball hitting the varnished cart and bouncing back into her hands.

Once. Twice. Three times. Get a quick look to the hoop. Shoot.