(5) Scott McKnight, Just Wright vs. (12) Scott Howard, Teen Wolf
At one point in time, this wouldn’t have been close. An NBA All-Star versus some average high school kid who couldn’t have been more than 5-5? No way. Wrap it up. Play to five and that’s all we’ll need to see. The crowd can go home. We can move on.
But things turned all upside down. One player got engaged, got hurt, lost his heart and then found it all again. The other player changed into a werewolf and became a hairy animal on the court.
Everything changed. One man suffered a devastating injury. His career was in question, his engagement over and his heart crushed. “I will never be the same again,” he would tell everyone. “It’s over for me. I might as well give up.”
His coach wouldn’t let him give in. Or is it his trainer? Or is it his wife? She’s all that, wrapped into one loud mouth. There she is rubbing his shoulders and whispering into his ear. He’s nodding, staring straight at the ground, and finally unleashing a grin when she’s done with him.
The woman stands up, points her index finger at him and says, “Remember about that brace. It’s there, but it’s not there. You get it?” Scott McKnight laughs and leans back against the fence. He starts massaging the brace over his knee.
“Oh no!” Across the court, everyone’s eyes are growing wide. “The Wolf is here!” Out walks a person dressed in a gorilla suit. Or maybe a dog outfit. Or maybe he’s just really hairy. “Nah, that’s really him. That’s what he looks like…” someone admits from behind the fence. The Wolf comes bounding in, confidence dripping off him. He’s content with what he looks like. He knows the power that it brings.
“Surfiiiiin USAAAAA…” someone holds up a boombox on their shoulders and turns up the volume. It rains down, ugly to the ears of 2011. The Wolf seems to enjoy it, grinning as he yanks off his denim jacket to reveal a beat-up and sweaty number 42 jersey. Beavers is in cursive across the chest. The lettering lands just below his facial hair, which the Wolf must’ve let grow out. It’s flowing this way and that and almost completely covers his face.
McKnight stands up in disbelief.
“This is who I’m playing?” he asks to everyone in complete shock. “That dude is hairy…”
The Wolf walks right on by him, making eye contact for just a split second, before grabbing a ball, dribbling off towards the basket and unleashing an indescribable dunk. Stone cold silence. What can anyone say? The dude is small, has no real muscle, doesn’t look like a basketball player, no one’s heard of him, and yet he just did that?
The Wolf lands and turns all in one motion, crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans back. What? He doesn’t say it, doesn’t even mouth it. He doesn’t have to.
“Oh lawd…” McKnight shakes his head and walks out to meet his matchup.
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