Just grabbed my notebook and camera last Tuesday morning, totally pumped for the first playoff game up in Milwaukee. Figured leaving early would beat traffic, but nope. Got stuck behind two fender benders and some road construction that wasn’t there last week. Typical Wisconsin spring, right? Showed up sweating bullets 10 minutes before tip-off.
The Arena Chaos
Walked into this packed high school gym – place was buzzing. Smelled like popcorn and sweat already. Found my spot near the baseline, right under the basket. Pulled out my trusty little camera… and dead battery. Swore under my breath. Had to sprint back to the parking lot digging through my trunk for the spare. Missed the first three baskets.
- Lesson Learned: Charge gear THE NIGHT BEFORE.
- Annoyance Level: Maximum.
Spotting the Hidden Gems
Once settled, started scanning. Everyone’s eyes were on #15 for Lakeshore – dude’s got a Division I offer already. But my gut said look deeper. Noticed this lanky kid, #32 for Westfield. Coach barely played him first half. Sat scribbling notes like crazy whenever he was benched.
Third quarter, #32 finally gets real minutes. Kid moved like water – smooth cuts, no wasted motion. Snagged a rebound nobody thought he’d reach, outlet pass laser-accurate. That’s when the lightbulb went off. Started tracking his every step:
- Box outs? Textbook.
- Help defense? Always in position.
- Energy? Infecting his whole team.
The Post-Game Digging
After Westfield pulled off the upset (thank you, #32!), hung around near the locker rooms. Coach Ben from Westfield saw my scribbled notebook and grinned. “Finally noticed our glue guy, huh?” Leaned against those ugly painted cinderblock walls chatting for 20 minutes. Learned #32 practices 90 minutes before school daily. Grades? Straight A’s. Humble? Refused to talk about himself.
Felt that old thrill clicking in my chest –found the real story under everyone’s nose.
Trudging Home & Reflecting
Dragged myself back to the car at 11 PM, ears still ringing from buzzer-beater screams. Drove home sipping lukewarm gas station coffee, replaying #32’s quiet dominance. Sometimes the stars aren’t the loudest. They’re the ones making everyone else shine brighter. Already plotting routes to his next game. Might pack three camera batteries this time.