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The buzzer rang. Your team had lost, big. This was supposed to be the closeout game. You were supposed to be crowned NBA champions. Instead your team lost by 30, and you, the superstar, only scored 9 while going 1-12 from 3. Your confidence was shattered; you could already see the viral twitter hot takes about you being scared of the moment. How you couldn’t perform in big games.
The stands were nearly empty; the fans were devastated. Your eyes wandered towards her courtside seat, as you looked for comfort in your beautiful girlfriend. Your eyes met; she looked sad, worried for you. She was stunning as always, her signature halter top, exposed belly and cleavage, gold hoop earrings. You loved her for her beauty. You looked in her eyes again, you got the sense that she pitied you. She was calculating too, maybe she was determining a loser like you wasn’t worthy of her. Her eyes turned to anger. “Play me. Now.”
She picked up a basketball from the bench. You chuckled, surely she must be joking. Her eyes stared into you with determination. “Play me, boy”
How could you say no?
You wiped sweat from your brow as you walked with her towards the top of the arc. What was she thinking? Did she really think getting a win against her would boost your confidence? She checked the ball to you. You lazily checked it back; you’d go easy on her, you figured.
As soon as the ball hit her hands, she exploded in speed, moving past you before you even moved your feet. You looked back helpless as she put up a layup. She was still wearing her heels.
“Come on, big boy. You can do better than that?”
Alright, you figured she had the element of surprise there, but that can only work once. You got down in a defensive stance as you checked the ball back to her. She moved swiftly to the right. Again she was much quicker than you’d expect from a woman, but you were ready this time. You stepped to the right and put your hand in for the steal; this move was second nature to you. Except now she wasn’t there. After a moment of shock, you realized that she had dribbled the ball behind her back and cut back to the left. You tried to move back to where she was now, but you lost balance and fell to the floor. She easily moved past you and put up another uncontested layup.
The broadcast cameras turned back on. You were still on the floor; unable to move from disbelief. She walked over to you, looked down and said, “The whole country’s watching now. Don’t let them down”
You got up and reset again. She was right, you had to get a stop here. She didn’t immediately dribble this time. She got low and held the ball in her hands, smiling as she saw your determination. She took a single step inside. You moved back to contain her speed. Only, she moved her foot right back after your reaction. She dribbled a single time, and hit a fadeaway shot as you sluggishly lunged back at her position. Swish. You had never seen anyone hit a fadeaway 3 in heels before.
You looked at her both in disbelief of her skills, but also of her cruelty. As you searched her unwavering eyes for a reason why, she smiled. “Next point wins, sweetie.”
You shook your head. You forgot all of those questions as you focused on the here and now. You had to get the next point. It meant everything, your reputation, your pride, your relationship. But you simply weren’t good enough. She blew past you with her speed, tricked you into lunging at the ball before she deftly moved it away; she was putting an absolute clinic on you. But she refused to go for the easy layup each time. “Get in position!” she yelled in frustration. You lazily jogged over to under the basket. She had exhausted you more than the other team ever had. “I’m not gonna trick you this time, babe. I’m going for the dunk. You better stop me.”
Even after everything she had done to you, you still knew she couldn't dunk. She was 5’6 in heels. There was simply no way she could dunk the ball, especially not with a defender. Still, you knew better than to not try your hardest by now. She gathered the ball up in palm, took a step and jumped towards the basket. You jumped vertically, getting your hand on the ball. It was an easy block… Wait. Your hand was on the ball but it was still powering through, so was her body. She dunked the ball as she powered through your weak body in the air.
You collapsed to the floor. She hung on the rim for a second before landing over you. With her feet on either side of your body, you looked up at her with tears in your eyes. She looked down at you with disgust. She held eye contact for a few seconds before she coldly walked away. She hadn’t said anything, but she didn’t need to. The word pathetic was already echoing in your skull.

Description

Text:

The buzzer rang. Your team had lost, big. This was supposed to be the closeout game. You were supposed to be crowned NBA champions. Instead your team lost by 30, and you, the superstar, only scored 9 while going 1-12 from 3. Your confidence was shattered; you could already see the viral twitter hot takes about you being scared of the moment. How you couldn’t perform in big games.
The stands were nearly empty; the fans were devastated. Your eyes wandered towards her courtside seat, as you looked for comfort in your beautiful girlfriend. Your eyes met; she looked sad, worried for you. She was stunning as always, her signature halter top, exposed belly and cleavage, gold hoop earrings. You loved her for her beauty. You looked in her eyes again, you got the sense that she pitied you. She was calculating too, maybe she was determining a loser like you wasn’t worthy of her. Her eyes turned to anger. “Play me. Now.”
She picked up a basketball from the bench. You chuckled, surely she must be joking. Her eyes stared into you with determination. “Play me, boy”
How could you say no?
You wiped sweat from your brow as you walked with her towards the top of the arc. What was she thinking? Did she really think getting a win against her would boost your confidence? She checked the ball to you. You lazily checked it back; you’d go easy on her, you figured.
As soon as the ball hit her hands, she exploded in speed, moving past you before you even moved your feet. You looked back helpless as she put up a layup. She was still wearing her heels.
“Come on, big boy. You can do better than that?”
Alright, you figured she had the element of surprise there, but that can only work once. You got down in a defensive stance as you checked the ball back to her. She moved swiftly to the right. Again she was much quicker than you’d expect from a woman, but you were ready this time. You stepped to the right and put your hand in for the steal; this move was second nature to you. Except now she wasn’t there. After a moment of shock, you realized that she had dribbled the ball behind her back and cut back to the left. You tried to move back to where she was now, but you lost balance and fell to the floor. She easily moved past you and put up another uncontested layup.
The broadcast cameras turned back on. You were still on the floor; unable to move from disbelief. She walked over to you, looked down and said, “The whole country’s watching now. Don’t let them down”
You got up and reset again. She was right, you had to get a stop here. She didn’t immediately dribble this time. She got low and held the ball in her hands, smiling as she saw your determination. She took a single step inside. You moved back to contain her speed. Only, she moved her foot right back after your reaction. She dribbled a single time, and hit a fadeaway shot as you sluggishly lunged back at her position. Swish. You had never seen anyone hit a fadeaway 3 in heels before.
You looked at her both in disbelief of her skills, but also of her cruelty. As you searched her unwavering eyes for a reason why, she smiled. “Next point wins, sweetie.”
You shook your head. You forgot all of those questions as you focused on the here and now. You had to get the next point. It meant everything, your reputation, your pride, your relationship. But you simply weren’t good enough. She blew past you with her speed, tricked you into lunging at the ball before she deftly moved it away; she was putting an absolute clinic on you. But she refused to go for the easy layup each time. “Get in position!” she yelled in frustration. You lazily jogged over to under the basket. She had exhausted you more than the other team ever had. “I’m not gonna trick you this time, babe. I’m going for the dunk. You better stop me.”
Even after everything she had done to you, you still knew she couldn't dunk. She was 5’6 in heels. There was simply no way she could dunk the ball, especially not with a defender. Still, you knew better than to not try your hardest by now. She gathered the ball up in palm, took a step and jumped towards the basket. You jumped vertically, getting your hand on the ball. It was an easy block… Wait. Your hand was on the ball but it was still powering through, so was her body. She dunked the ball as she powered through your weak body in the air.
You collapsed to the floor. She hung on the rim for a second before landing over you. With her feet on either side of your body, you looked up at her with tears in your eyes. She looked down at you with disgust. She held eye contact for a few seconds before she coldly walked away. She hadn’t said anything, but she didn’t need to. The word pathetic was already echoing in your skull.