My life was for one shot.

I wasn’t born with talent.

When god was giving out talent I turned the other way and naively entered the line for hard work.

It was a shame though. All my hard work was fruitless. I was powerless. I was unable to accomplish a single thing my entire life despite my hard work.

I dreamed of becoming a basketball player in the NBA.

Naturally I had no talent for it. In spite of that I worked hard. I practiced and practiced, but it was never enough.

I shed an untold number of tears. I sweat enough to fill the ocean. I bled from every limb of my body. I never got better no matter how much effort I put in.

The world was unfair. It was cruel.

I wasn’t fast, I was the slowest even in high school and college. I couldn’t even dribble properly. I had no hand eye coordination. I was told over and over again no matter how much effort I put in I’d get nowhere. No matter how hard you try you’ll be a failure at everything.

In spite of that I ignored their words. I believed even someone like me could one day accomplish something of merit.

It was always difficult to breath. It always felt there was something that weighed down heavily on my body. I always ran out of stamina quickly. At some point I was told to see a doctor.

When I did I was told that physical activity like in sports was impossible for me. They strongly advised me to stay clear of all sports.

I still didn’t want to accept it.

I grit my teeth and shed countless tears the night I got home after I’d been told that.

It hurt. It hurt so much to be denied. To be rejected by the world. To have all your efforts and dreams trampled upon.

Even then I still wanted to play.

Why did I want to play so badly?

Because I wanted to accomplish something, even if it was something tiny and insignificant. Even if it was someone useless like me. I wanted to be remembered even if it was for just a single fleeting moment.

I kept at it. I gave up on everything physically straining about basketball. Instead I took a ball and I stood in front of a hoop. For hours upon hours, days, months and even years. I shot and shot. Over and over again. Until all the muscles in my body were torn every day. Until I was completely dehydrated. Until my arms would lift no more. I ingrained that single action into my body. It was my single and only weapon, the free throw.

In my world all that existed was a ball and a hoop.

I chose to specialize in one thing and one thing only. That free throw. The one thing that didn’t demand much of me physically.

I always dreamed of entering the NBA. I dreamed of being on the team that won the playoffs. I dreamed of sharing that dream with teammates. I dreamed of contributing to that shared dream no matter how small that contribution may be.

Even if it were one single point. Even if it was a completely insignificant point. Even that single point was a contribution to that dream.

Through that hard work I mastered the free throw. Eventually I never missed. I became a robot that only knew how to shoot a free throw.

With this mastered I thought that I’d have a small chance to at least become an eternal benchwarmer.

I was wrong. When I showed coaches the raised one eyebrow and were a bit interested at first, but when they saw how incompetent I was with everything else they shook their heads and turned me down.

I often heard things like, “it’s such a shame a player who never misses free throws, but is a one trick pony.”

I was crushed.

All my efforts were denied again.

I despaired.

But I had nothing but the free throw. I kept honing that one weapon.

However, one day I met that man by pure coincidence. I was mindlessly practicing shooting free throws in the gym when someone talking to the coach noticed me when he saw me swish 100 free throws in a row.

He asked my coach who I was.

My coach had an awkward look on his face. He explained my situation to him, but surprisingly the man didn’t react the same way all the other coaches had.

Instead he looked at me intrigued like his interest had been piqued.

When he approached me the first thing he said was, “hey kid, why do you keep practicing free throws despite how you’ll never be put into a game?”

“I have a dream.”

“A dream?” He questioned.

“Yes.”

“What exactly is this dream of yours?”

“I dream to play in the NBA playoffs and contribute to the team's victory. Even if it was just a single point.”

“The NBA? Kid you should really give up. With only a free throw, you don’t stand a chance.”

“I don’t care how futile it is. I still want to dream no matter how small my chances of success may be.”

“Is that so? Then… if I told you I could give you a very small chance at your dream, would you jump at the opportunity?”

I didn’t look at him. I raised my hand and took another shot. At the peak of my shot without a shred of emotion, I said, “Even if I’m selling my soul to the devil I’ll take that chance for that one opportunity.”

He chuckled a bit right as the ball swished through the net and said, “Good. Then sign a contract with me. I’m the head coach for a team in the NBA.”

I hadn’t really examined him closely at the start as I was too immersed in shooting free throws. When I heard what he said I was at first extremely skeptical. When I finally sized him up my eyes shot open wide.

“You… why?”

“Why am I here?”

I nodded wordlessly from shock.

“Of course I’m scouting out colleges for hidden diamonds in the rough, perhaps even a secret weapon.”

“A secret weapon? What do you mean?”

“Basically someone like you.”

“Me? A diamond in the rough?”

“No! Absolutely not! You’re far from being a diamond in the rough. You’re more like a penny. You don’t have any substantial value.”

My hopes were immediately crushed back to rock bottom when reality hit me in the face again. I asked him, “Then why would you want to sign me?”

“Because… although you don’t have any substantial value, you can still be honed into a one time use secret weapon of mass destruction. With the material from a single penny, imagine we crafted it into a bullet. A phantom bullet that can only be shot once before it disappears forever into obscurity.”

“A phantom bullet? Me? How?”

I was filled with doubt and disbelief. No coach had ever said anything of the sort to me before. They’d always told me there was not a shred of hope for as long as I lived. To be told differently by someone, it was the first time for me.

I wanted to break down into tears. I didn’t care what it was, even if it was false hope he was giving me out of pure pity I still wanted to latch onto it no matter the cost.

“It will be a path that is extremely hard. One that you will face unending ridicule from all sides. Whether it be the opponents, your teammates, the fans, everyone will likely shun you. You’ll even have to forsake all your effort up to this point if it is to succeed. Even if you make it through all that, there is no guarantee you will have the opportunity to play when it really matters. All your effort, all your suffering may turn out to be in vain. In spite of knowing all that, would you still take the risk? Would you still burden yourself with all that pain?”

“Are you really telling the truth? There’s at least a small, even negligible chance, I could actually have the opportunity to fulfill my dream?”

“Yeah.”

It hurt. My heart was torn in two. Not because I was in a dilemma, it was because there was even the smallest hope. I was happy. So happy that I could even have the chance. For the useless, the incapable, to even be given a single chance. It meant too much. Too much.

“I’ll do it.”

“Good.”

After that meeting I understood what he meant. I understood fully what he meant by forsaking myself.

I joined his team as a benchwarmer. At practices I couldn’t keep up. My teammates were annoyed with me. I often stayed after practice and only shot free throws over and over again.

When it came time for the first game I was on the bench until very near to the end.

We were up by 20 points. It was then something happened that I never imagined. The coach called me up and said, “you’re going on for the last minute of the game. You are not to get a single shot in. If you do somehow take a shot you must miss it without fail. Even if you are to take a free throw you are not to get it in. Do you understand?”

I gulped. I understood right away what he planned. I was a martyr. I would be turned into a laughingstock. It would become widespread how useless of a player I was.

“The look on your face suggests you understand now what that opportunity I spoke of was. We will make it known far and wide how poor a player you are. Then if the opportunity arises for us to fire the phantom bullet at the very last second, nobody will expect anything from you. If I were to put you in the playoff game for the last play of the game, your defender will definitely be instructed to ignore you. They will think it’s psychological warfare. There will be doubt in their mind, but based upon your track record they will believe it’s a ploy to throw them off. They will without any doubt in my mind ignore you. They will take pressure off you and double team whoever has the ball. You will take up your position on the free throw line, whether a situation arises where you can take the last shot of the game will be completely up to your luck and just how convinced the world is that you are incompetent trash.”

When I heard the whispers of the devil reality sunk in yet again.

It was brick wall after brick wall. Even if I was given the opportunity to score in a game I was put in, I couldn’t.

I blankly walked onto the court. The crowd was clearly confused when they saw me walk onto the court for the first time in my life. My teammates all frowned. The opponents looked wary when they saw me despite knowing their loss was already locked in.

The coach whispered something to the point guard who looked annoyed. When the ball was tossed in I was already by the opponents goal. I took up the shooting guard position.

I was shaky in the legs and extremely nervous. It was the first time I was on the court in a game. It was the NBA as well. They were all monsters with talent who’d put in countless hours of hard work. They had all fought tirelessly to make it to where they stood. Yet here I was. A complete talentless nobody with no right to stand on the same court as them.

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I felt guilt. It was the first time I stood on the court, but it felt like I was insulting them by standing on the same court. I felt like I was spitting on their effort. I was told to ensure I never scored a single point. If I scored a point then I’d never step foot on the court again. I’m supposed to just be a clown. The bunt of a joke. Comedic relief. Someone to scorn, deride and laugh at.

If I want to fulfill my pathetic little selfish dream I have to forsake everything I care about.

Standing face to face with the defender in front of me it felt like chains sprouted up from the ground and wrapped around my legs and arms. It felt like I was in hell.

I’d never felt so horrible when I stood on a court before. I wanted to escape. I wanted to flee and run away. I wanted to turn my back on everything. I couldn’t though. I was rooted to the spot.

I didn’t even realize it when the ball came flying directly at me. It hit me directly in the head and rebounded back to the point guard. The players on the court froze in place for an instant before they recovered and continued the play. I regained my awareness and looked back at the Point Guard. He passed it into the key to the Center who post up against his defender. There was about 50 seconds remaining until the end of the game. I didn’t budge an inch from where I stood. I watched like a bystander.

The seconds ticked by slowly. When there was ten seconds left on the shot clock the Center passed the ball back to the point guard who managed to put distance between his defender. The defender who was on me realized I was clearly a newbie and put priority on the Point Guard instead. The Point Guard jumped up into the air for a fade away three, but the defender who was on me was very quick and got right in front of our Point Guard. While in mid air our Pount Guard switches it up and passed the ball directly to the only open player on the court.

My eyes opened wide, the only player open on the court was naturally me. I was behind the three point line. When I caught the ball I was like a deer startled by headlights. It was just my imagination, but with the ball in my hand it felt like a spot light was now on me.

With it came an immense pressure and sense of dread.

I looked around at the other players on my team. They were all blocked off by the defenders. I had no passing skills to speak of either way, so that was out of the question. My only option was to shoot myself, but I immediately remembered my mission. I’m supposed to miss no matter what.

I took a deep breath. The weight that was on me suddenly disappeared. I calmed down. There was no pressure anymore. I felt nothing at all. I became empty. A hoop suddenly appeared in my line of sight. It wasn’t a hoop at the distance of three points. It was a hoop a free throw line distance away from me.

I raised my hands up and nearly shot the ball on instinct. Right when I was about to release the ball I realized I couldn’t fall into this state of mind. If I shot it the exact same distance on every shot people could catch on. In the middle of the air I froze up and the illusory net disappeared. I shot with the exact same strength but the ball rolled off the palm of my hand. The exact same forward force I normally used was transferred into additional rotational force instead.

It was completely short of the net. The other team recovered the rebound and all five of them rushed to the other side of the court. I was the only player that didn’t react right away. By the time I started to run when I reached a bit before the half court line the other team had already scored.

My slow reaction time and speed was immediately made apparent to everyone. I naturally heard the displeasure and distaste of the crowd. They all thought I was lazy and just slacking off, not taking the game serious, just treating it all as a joke.

Booing erupted from the crowd. Jeers demanding I be taken off the court followed their outrage. I wasn’t taken off the court though. The next play was the last play. Again the Point Guard focused the play around me shooting. I took another shot and air balled horribly yet again. This time I was inside the three point line.

When the buzzer signalled the end of the game the opponents held their heads low. Some were emotional while others were patting them on the back and consoling each other. When the teams lined up everyone shook hands as a sign of respect. Whenever the opposing team came to me they retracted their hands though. Nobody said anything about it.

It was exactly as the coach said, I was scorned from the start.

I sucked it up though. I’m just a disposable one time use weapon. I don’t feel. I killed my emotions for the sake of the little dream I had. Emotionless. A weapon knows not of emotions.

I did my best to not let it get to me. The scorn towards me was only natural. I didn’t deserve to be here like them.

After that first game the coach gave me the cold shoulder. Deep down I knew it was all for the sake of his plan.

The season continued on like this. In games where they had a big enough lead I was put in at the very end of the game. Although sometimes I was put in mid game for a few minutes before I was taken off.

Whenever I came out I was either the bunt of a messed up joke or I was met with booing if the audience. The season came and went by in a flash.

The end of every single game was like torture. I’d leave the court gritting my teeth in shame and digging my fingernails into the palm of my hands in frustration. It was mentally agonizing. There were countless times I felt like I’d mentally break down.

I continued on forward despite it all. My teammates all kept their distance. They all talked dirt about me behind my back. They questioned the coach many times why he kept putting me in despite how I never scored or did anything productive on the court. He simply told them it’s for the sake of training them to deal with being double teamed in real matches. That was the excuse I was used for. I was treated as a handicap for them.

That was how I was perceived by my team. I wanted to cry. Even if I fulfilled my dream would it be worth it if it’s like this? Would I even be happy after everything is said and done?

There was no point questioning it. It was already too late. I’d missed every single shot in the season so far. I even intentionally missed the free throws I was given the opportunity when I was fouled during a few shots.

Under the leadership of the head coach we reached the playoffs. Throughout the course of the playoffs I only played in the first game at the very end. The rest were all close games and I had no place in them.

Before I knew it, it was the finals. I was shocked. Flabbergasted in disbelief, we’d actually made it to the finals in the playoffs. When the game started it was close right from the start. The score difference never increased greater than four points. At the start of the fourth quarter we were down by a single point. The teams went back and forth exchanging point for point. Even when it was tied the opposing team followed up with a three pointer to widen the gap. We always lagged behind them by a single point.

It was only when there was twenty seconds left on the clock that it happened. Thanks to a heavy full court press we’d successfully taken possession of the ball on a toss in when we were down by a single point.

That was when I heard the buzzer followed by the referee’s whistle blow and the words I’d never imagined would truly arrive.

“Substitution…”

My mind completely blanked out. I couldn’t believe the name and number I heard. Despite knowing of the possibility beforehand I never imagined it was possible. No way. It really happened. I turned to the coach. His face was indifferent. He didn’t look at me at all.

The other players on the bench showed horrified faces. They immediately swarmed the head coach and tried to get him to reconsider his decision. The coach only said, “if you can overcome adversity and win with a handicap like him on the court don’t you think victory would feel even greater? These twenty seconds provide far too much leeway for us. Only when we completely corner ourselves like this will we truly bear our fangs and devour our opponents.”

The other players still persisted to convince him otherwise, but he remained steel willed in the face of criticism from all ends. When the opposing team saw me get up and stand on the court they were initially confused, but soon after realized who I was. The joke of the league. They naturally were enraged and assumed we were looking down on them.

I on the other hand had somehow found a sense of solace despite the overwhelming pressure. If the opportunity arises I will shoot without hesitation. I’ve done it millions of times already. If I’m in that one position on the court, I will not miss. I will never miss. Despite how I was forced to forsake the one and only thing I practiced all my life, it was still the only thing I had confidence in.

After I’d played a few minutes at the end of games over the season I’d gotten accustomed to the atmosphere. I’d been on the bench and observed closely the entire time with a front row seat closest to the overwhelming pressure of the last few seconds of the game when it was close. Actually standing on the court in the hot spot was of course still completely different, but I’d already zoned out everything else.

In my eyes the only thing I saw was the free throw line, the hoop and the ball. Only these three things. Nothing else mattered to me. When I got onto the court I positioned myself close to the free throw line. It was still unknown what would happen. It was unlikely my teammates would pass the ball to me. It all depended on luck yet again. The defender on me didn’t think of me as much of a threat like the head coach assumed.

He was positioned halfway between me and our Point Guard. Our teammates rapidly passed the ball back and forth between each other trying to force an opening, but the opposing team was playing very tight man to man defence. There weren’t any cracks at all and with an extra defender on them it was even more difficult.

I watched as the clock slowly ticked down second by second.

10.  

9.

8.

I hadn’t moved from my spot since the start despite being open. I told a deep breath and moved towards the center right in front of the free throw line.

7.

6.

5.

My back faced the Point Guard who was behind the three point line. It was now or never for us. He had to make a shot. Presently two players had double teamed him. In spite of that he jumped backwards and launched a three pointer.

4.

It hit the backboard.

3.

It bounced off the rim and launched back up in the air. My eyes were locked onto it as the world around me slowed down for that one instant alone. My heart sped up faster. It became harder to breath as the ball gradually grew in size.

I raised my hands and it landed perfectly into them. I didn’t have time to think about it. It happened. It really happened.

2.

I didn’t fully jump, but with a fluid motion I propelled my body upward until I stood on my toes. The ball was at the peak of its height and the world came to a near standstill. Everything I’d done up to this point flashed before my eyes. I sacrificed my entire life for this one shot. Why did the ball feel so heavy? Why won’t it leave my hands?

There was a weight on my shoulder. It was a hand from behind me. The grim reaper himself had come to harvest my life. A hand was directly on top of the ball. I was startled, the defender that was supposed to be on me had returned to me immediately when our Point Guard shot. I didn’t want to give up though. With everything I had I forced the ball forward. The ball finally left my hands.

1.

It went up and I immediately despaired. The ball was off. It was lacking power. It fell a bit short and just barely bounced off the front portion of the rim.

Buzzzzzzzz!

The world returned to its normal speed. I fell to the ground and looked down at my two hands in disbelief. I’d missed a free throw? No… that wasn’t even a free throw to start with. A free throw doesn’t have anyone to block you.

It was over. I was completely out of it. It felt like my world had ended. Everything I worked so hard for was for naught. It was all gone. The other team had already started to rejoice while my team slumped to the ground unable to believe this was reality.

It was at this point that a whistle sounded.

I was too out of it to pay attention. I sat on the ground slumped down in defeat. Completely drained. I wanted to cry, but the tears would fall. I had no right to cry. I wasn’t the one that worked hard to bring the team to this point. The only ones with the right to cry right now are the players on our team that fought so hard to reach this point.

It was my fault. It was my selfishness that made us lose.

I felt a sudden tap on my shoulder. I blankly looked up and found a referee with the ball in his hands.

“What are you doing? Did you not hear the call? Two free throws. You have two free throws. The defender hit your hand when you released the ball. He also grabbed onto your shoulder and held you down.”

“Two… free throws? Who? Me?”

“Yes. Who else but you? Although with your record you’ll probably miss, but good luck anyways. Sorry ignore I said that. A referee is impartial.”

With the ball in hand I weakly stood back up.

All the terrible emotions I felt just moments before completely vanished into thin air. I had another chance. This time I felt not a shred of pressure. I thought back to every free throw I made once again. I reentered the zone I’d always entered anytime I practiced. When I shoot it goes in. The only reason for a miss is if external factors are brought into the equation.

This is my home ground. This is the one spot on the court where I can thrive. A single ball, a line and a hoop. That is all my world consists of. That is my life. My lifespan is the time it takes between when the ball leaves my hand and enters the hoop. Life is short. So short. Even the slightest disturbance can derail and send you completely off track.

I entered a completely neutral emotionless state. To me this was the same as practice. Pressure to perform did not exist to me. There were no expectations put on my back after all.

All my teammates had already given up. They all believed I could score a single point. When I saw them I didn’t hesitate. I shot.

As soon as the ball left my hands like lightning it swished cleanly through the net. It was the same sound I’d heard countless times before. The atmosphere in the stadium froze when everyone saw how confidently I’d shot without any sign of difficulty.

The opposing team's eyes widened in shock. Disbelief was the only thing written on their faces. The crowd was dead silent. The cheers of the opponents team’s fans that already assumed victory completely died off in an instant. It was so quiet you could even hear a pin drop. That silence didn’t continue for long though.

The fans of our team who’d been weeping and crying had all stood up and started to cheer and applaud. They all called out my name wishing me luck. It was the first time. The first time I’d ever received any sort of cheers. If it wasn’t for the second shot I still had to make it would have probably started to bawl my eyes out.

The referee quickly returned the ball to me. Again, I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t draw things out either. I forgot all about suspense. In my eyes this was just another free throw in practice.

Lighting never strikes twice they say? Well this was an exception to that rule. The second bolt of lightning struck down clean through the net. The sound that rang out once again silenced the crowd. Jaws were dropped from the sheer decisiveness of the shot.

It was over. The buzzers rang out. The crowd erupted into hysteria. Fans were hugging each other left, right, and center. People were tossing hats and drinks into the air. Confetti flew about and covered the court. Horns sounded out loudly amidst the uproar.

My teammates rejoiced with each other and rested their arms over each other’s shoulders. Amidst the electrifying atmosphere I collapsed to the ground and broke down into an unending stream of tears.

It really happened. I was glad it was over, but I somehow didn’t feel happy from the bottom of my heart.

When everything was over, everybody shook hands and said their ‘good games.’ Only, I still felt isolated. It really didn’t feel like I was a member of the team. Well… that wasn’t wrong... I really wasn’t. I was just a disposable one time use secret weapon the head coach made use of. A one trick pony, a gimmick player. Once the cat was out of the bag and it was discovered the only thing I was good for was free throws it was obvious to anyone that I was a complete deadweight. As long as they avoided fouling me I was unable to do anything.

My contract ended once the playoffs were over. My life had come and gone just like that. I’d lived for that single moment. Now that it was over I had nothing left.

The rest of my life passed by quickly. Due to ignoring the doctor’s warnings my lifespan was shortened greatly. It was already estimated to be short to begin with. At most I was told I’d live until 40, however I didn’t even live past 28.

On my 28th birthday I passed on. Dead from a heart attack.