Tommy

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Three weeks. It’s been three weeks since my ankle injury, and I’ve been limping around the court, taking “jump shots” from within the three-point line and watching everyone else run drills and make layups.

Slowly but surely, I’ve been getting my strength back. I haven’t had to ice it for a while now and haven’t had my crutches for a week. After coach berated me for a good ten minutes on how if I didn’t use my crutches he wouldn’t play me again, even after I healed, I started using them.

It felt like admitting defeat, but Grace reminded me that everyone on campus would be rooting for my recovery, not making fun of me. We’ve developed quite a rivalry with New Hampshire and I’m about fucking ready to get back on the court.

As I sit in the locker room, listening to the scuffle of sneakers and the sound of balls bouncing, I actually feel nervous. My mind is filled with questions.

What if my ankle hurts again? Do I stop? Do I ride it out? Grit my teeth and bear it? What if it gives out completely and I’m off my feet again for another month? What if I hurt it even more and my entire career goes down the drain?

I’m all suited up, but am I really ready for this?

Grace and I have been hard at work on our research project for sociology, which actually ended up not being a complete and utter bore like I thought it would be, and she gave me a kiss before I left for practice today.

“You’ll be great,” she told me. “Don’t even think about it. The doctor said three weeks, and it’s been three weeks. You’ll be back to kicking ass in no time.”

I’ve been replaying her words over and over in my mind while I suited up. Joey was psyched to see me back to practice and gave me a big slap on the back to fire me up.

“Hell yeah, bro! Tommy’s back!”

The rest of the team was pumped too. Today has been a calendar day for everybody. We’ve been doing okay without me. We’ve won more than we’ve lost, but my absence has been noticeable. That’s for sure. And I can’t help thinking that I’m to blame.

If I’d just felt that asshole coming up behind me, or been a little faster, or dodged out of the way instead of going straight for the basket – then I wouldn’t be in this situation.

Supposedly he got suspended but will be back later in the season. Pretty unbelievable if you ask me. There was talk about suing him if my injury ended up being permanent, but that’s just not my style. I settle things on my own, and if today doesn’t work out, and my ankle ends up fucking with me for years to come, well then that bastard is going to have a nice one-on-one discussion with the knuckles of my right fist.

I hear the voices of the boys out on the court and summon up all my strength to stand. I can’t help but feel like my ankle is made of glass and one wrong step might shatter it. So I close my eyes and take a deep breath and focus, picturing my leg as a strong piece of steel, my ankle reinforced concrete, hard and ready to take whatever abuse I throw at it.

Putting one foot in front of the other, I walk quickly out of the locker room and down the hall toward the court. I pick up the pace, step after step, feeling out my ankle, convincing myself that it’s going to be okay.

I’m Tommy Mason. This isn’t going to stop me!

I’m jogging. I’m on my way back to the court and my ankle’s holding up. I’m moving forward. There’s no pain. Nothing. A smile comes across my lips as I emerge onto the court. Every head in the place turns to me and I raise a triumphant fist in the air.

“Yeah!” Everyone shouts, rushing over toward me. Joey and Brant are the first there and grab me by the shoulders, slapping me hard on the back.

“Told you he’d be back,” Joey grins like a know-it-all.

“One little sprain? He better be,” Brant jokes.

I shrug the boys off and hit the court, catch a bounce pass from Joey and hit a three. Swish. It’s like a fucking orgasm – not quite, but close. I’m all smiles as I catch another pass, and hit another shot. Another and another. I’m fucking draining them. Everything’s falling back into place. I’m back at home, doing what I was meant to do and the team’s responding. The energy is through the roof. If only we had a game today, I’d be crushing everyone and breaking all my records. I’ve never been so amped on the court in my life, even after winning last year’s championship.

That was a pretty sure thing. It was my first at UCONN, and as a freshman, but we all knew it was coming. This? This was never a sure thing. Injuries can destroy careers, and that’s all I saw happening from the second that asshole’s foot hit my ankle to the walk over to the locker room today.

But all those doubts are gone now.

I’ve got my ankle back and Grace at my side, and nothing, I mean nothing is going to stop me.