"The most important minutes of my life"

For once, my head was not in the game. I was so used to always feeling in control. On the practice field, I would always be comforted by the powerful grip I had from the top of my palm to the point of my fingers. I’ve had some important moments before, some events where I had more than reasonable reasons to be paralyzed by the stress, like the day of the qualifications for the nationals, but I would always have that reassuring sensation that my practice and work would guarantee a victory, or at least a game where my whole team gave its best.

I remember the day I got into the team. I was so anxious that I wouldn’t be enough, that the pressure would make me fail, that the stress would make the ball slip right off my hands. But as the referee blew the whistle, for a moment, all of my doubts left my body. I was only focusing on giving my best, I was free. As I was feeling my ankles adjusting to the right degree, and retracting right before each jump, as I was touching the basketball only with the part of my hands that were needed, with a light but efficient grip that gave me the perfect control and mobility, I was serene.

This time was different. This time, as I entered the place, the lights were blinding, not heart-warming as they usually felt. The infinite chatter of the people all around was not as exciting as it used to be. It used to mean that people were there to support me, or just enjoy the show, and I would do my best to offer them the most spectacular performance I could while still focusing on my team and getting that ball inside that basket through that hoop. But right now, the chatter didn’t feel exciting at all, it felt like someone was pushing my ears back into my head through my temples and pressing them making me feel like my head was exploding.

For the first time, I wasn’t feeling in control. I couldn’t focus enough to get my head in the game. The people around me were all putting in so much effort, but I was just there, paralyzed while the coach was shouting instructions and encouragements for my partner to follow. The moment was getting closer. My heart stopped. For the first time, I was out there in the field not knowing what to do. I would usually overcome this anxious feeling by using it to throw myself in my movements even more, but at this moment, the feeling was stronger. I could feel the cold sweat slowly dripping off my forehead. I reminded myself of the last time I was in an event with such an importance, the fall tournament of 2008. The stadium was so big that I could barely see the distinct faces of the crowd. I wasn’t particularly feeling confident, but I knew one thing : I had to give my best. This thought alone is what made me push myself during the entirety of the game. 36-52, I could see the panel board as we were about to enter the fourth halftime, the last one. We were going to lose. All of our efforts would be reduced to only a second place, a silver medal, but that same thought kept running through my mind. ‘’give your best’’ ‘’don’t give up’’ ‘’give the audience a great show’’ ‘’focus on scoring just one more’’. The game went on. 48-54, this was it, the last minutes, it was still possible to make it but there was little hope behind that possibility. 56-57, we were so close, but so was the time of the final whistle, last chance. In such a crucial instant, I was the one in possession of the ball, but there were too many defenders, I passed the ball over to my teammate, it all relied on him, all I could do was assist, but in the end, he would be the one to aim for that last point. The defence was rushing towards him, they had to block him, more than ever, but it was too late. He stopped dribbling to place the ball confidently between his two hands, one light squat, readjusted the position of his hands, and then jump, his whole body extended at once. I watched as the ball was leaving his hands, the trajectory seemed perfect, but on an instinct, I started sprinting towards the basket. The ball wouldn’t make it through the hoop, I just knew it. At the same time as the ball was bouncing off that metal ring, I was already in the air, ready to put it back in… victory. I was in a similar yet completely different situation right now. Just like in 2008, it all led to this moment, the one where we finally would see victory, one last effort. I saw my teammate give one last push; the final second. That was it. It took me a split second to realise. I snapped out of it when I hear these words coming from the man in white : ‘’Congratulations, you’re a dad !’’

• Chiara Haegelsteen