October 24, 2016 - SNEAKERS

          The sound of the squeak, squeak, squeak of the sneakers against the glossy hardwood floor of the home team’s basketball court is intensified by the hush of the crowd as The Harlem Globe Trotters trounce us in the annual charity fundraiser.

          Basket after basket hit the backboard racking up point after point against the senior varsity team at Tahanto Regional High School.

          Marking the end of the basketball season, it is traditionally the school’s biggest night.  The snowy, cold night, has not dampened anyone’s enthusiasm to come out to watch the famous Harlem Globe Trotters.

          The bleachers are packed.  The audience has already done the “squeeze” next to their neighbor twice before the game starts and every square foot of standing space is filled.

          My brother has just gotten his first used car, a white Dodge Dart and lets me tag along.  At the door it is understood we will part company and re-group later to ride home together.

          Arriving early, I snag one of the coveted seats on the third row bleachers behind the cheerleaders where I can lustily cheer along.  I am at that awkward age, fifteen, unsure of myself and have few friends.  Even though I am occasionally pressed by shoulder or thigh against the people flanking me, I feel alone.

          Tonight, not having a friend to chat with has an advantage as I don’t miss a single move of the fun antics of the rookie members of the Globe Trotters.  They entertain us with incredible dribbling, and jump shots leaping over fellow players, as well as spell binding from-the-opposite-end-of-the-court baskets that bring “OOOhhs, and AAhhs” from the crowd along with deafening applause and bleacher-foot stomping.

          When the actual charity game is over, the theme song for the Harlem Globe Trotters starts.  They take command of the entire court and entertain us with their choreographed program.  At the end, a player dashes from the visiting bench to the home team bleachers with a bucket and tosses the contents at our cheerleaders.

          I duck and squeal expecting to get wet, yet I too, end up with red, white, and blue confetti in my hair.  Suddenly I belong to that exclusive cheer leading club for a flickering moment.

          Yearly, I flip TV channels during FINAL FOUR Basketball Championships, and that familiar sound of squeak, squeak, squeak of sneakers brings back the image of the confetti falling down like snow.  I smile as I remember my fleeting inclusion.

NOTE: I joined a writing group that meets in Forest City, North Carolina and this was the first assignment a week ago.  Writing assignment – 10/17/2016