The passage of time has not dimmed the sharpness of the memories.
Twenty two years ago in a high school gym in LaGrange my high school basketball team was one win away from the state tournament. We had survived our opening-round region tournament game and needed one more victory to go to the big dance.
As a member of the varsity basketball team throughout high school, I simply longed for that opportunity to go to state, even if it meant just the old “one and done” scenario. Just to be able to experience it would have made the four years of practice, the four years of running, the four years of sacrifice worth it.
The team we met that night was playing on its home court. The pre-determined region format had dictated as much. Nothing could be done about that. Our teams were about as even as you could get. We had split during the regular season with each team gaining a victory by a small margin.
As the time for the game approached, something told me the series decider would be no different.
Back and forth the game went. One team would gain a slight advantage, only to see the other team catch up and briefly gain a lead. Through the first quarter, second quarter, third quarter and now deep into the fourth quarter we battled.
The final seconds arrived with our opponent being in possession of the basketball. We needed a defensive stand. It appeared we had made it but with less than a handful of seconds left, we were whistled for a foul. The player for the opposing team stepped to the foul line and made the first attempt for a 71-70 lead. He missed the second free throw but there simply wasn’t enough time for my teammate who grabbed the rebound to get off anything other than a true desperation heave.
One point. We had fallen by one point. The pain was admittedly more than I could take. It was more than just knowing an athletic career, as limited as it was, was over.
It was the pain of being so close to something and having it torn away at the last moment.
The pain has gone away more than 20 years later. I can look back on that night now and not get as upset. We had a great season during the 1988-89 go around — the best one during my four years — but it would have been nice to go to state just once.
Through the years I’ve used what I learned that night to try and comfort athletes I’ve watched play when the final game didn’t turn out their way. I understand their hurt, their pain, their anguish. Sports can be painful sometimes, beyond the physical.
Yet, sports can also be a great learning tool and something that can help you in the game of life. For that, I’m thankful for those lessons learned.
Chris Bridges is sports editor of the Barrow Journal. You can reach him at cbridges@barrowjournal.com.
