Something to cope with the stretch between games...

It was the day.

Steve Francis and Cuttino Mobley were staring at each other in excitement, nodding their heads. Oscar Torres was looking quizzically at them, while Kenny Thomas and Eddie Griffin bopped their heads, listening to some hot rap piece on headphones. Rudy T. shook his head at his starting backcourt, grinning proudly. Glen Rice had the serious, focused expression of a veteran while he chomped on his trademark piece of Extra. The team bus was buzzing. In 10 minutes they would reach Staples Center, and would take on the LA Lakers in the first game of a best-of-five series. It would be the very first playoff game for most of them. They were the young Houston Rockets, energetic after realizing that this is it - this is what every NBA player strives for. The playoffs. So sweet were those words in Stevie's mouth that he had snatched up 15 tickets for his family and friends and has sworn to himself that he wouldn't get jitters and perform poorly. This was it.
"This is the day, baby," Cat said smoothly.
"We gonna beat down some LA ass!" Franchise yelled back enthusiatically.

Rudy glanced at CD, happy at his team's attitude but worried about overconfidence. As he looked out the window, he saw the Laker's palace.
"Okay guys, we're here," he called out, rounding up his squad.
"Aye, aye, Captain T," said a joking Mooch, obviously high on excitement.


The locker room before the game was a blur of reporters, players, and red and blue pajamas.
"Steve, do you think the Rockets can beat the Lakers?" asked Peter Vescey.
"I do. I do, Peter."
"Pretty confident there against the defending champs, there."
"We'll take care of business."

The first quarter was dead even. 19-19 after 1.
The Rockets collapsed in the second.
"And at the half, the Lakers 55, the Rockets 38," Bill Walton crowed gleefully.

Facing his team, Rudy T. was not angry. He was not upset, nor panicked, or heated. He was confused.
"What happened out there? Guys, we need to tune out the crowd. We need to focus on the goal. What happened to that intensity I saw in each of your eyes on the bus? What happened to you, Steve? Cuttino? Eddie? Glen? What happened in the second quarter?
"They were impossible to stop, coach," whispered Griff, shaking his head. "Shaq was bruising, Kobe was everywhere. And since when is Lindsey Hunter a consistent shooter?"
"But have we lost faith?" Rudy insisted.
No response.
"We have no chance if we have no heart."
Rudy wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, and stepped out of the locker room.

"Sooo...he's left us. Great. Just great," said Steve.
"We need heart," Cuttino mumbled.
Torres smiled and nodded.
"Since when have we not had heart," Moochie angrily said. "The Lakers are simply too f-cking dominant."
"I'll have heart," said Cato proudly.
"What?" said Steve.
"They ripped us apart out there," sniffed Glen.
"I can't believe it," said KT.
"What?" repeated Steve.
"We just have to bear it. Hack-a-Shaq, I guess," shrugged Terence.
Torres smiled and nodded.
"It sucks so bad," Eddie whispered.
"What?" Steve said again.
"It's just -"
"Shut the hell up! Did you guys hear what Kel just said?" Steve cried frantically.
"Okay, okay...listen: Forty-two. That's how much my contract is worth," Cato started. "I've been thinking. If I played reaaal hard, maybe I would get respect - and, of course, my paycheck as well."
"You would!" the Rockets exclaimed.
"Of course! It all just clicked. I can take O'Neal! Let's win this!"
Yeah!!!! they all shouted.


"Well now, the Rockets look like a different team," said Walton nervously. "Cato's taking on Shaq. Can the Lakers slow down the young, athletic Houston legs?"
"Huh??" gurgled Snapper Jones.

It had come down to this. Steve knew his teammates had it in them. (Not Cato, but, you know...life is chock-full of surprises). There was 1:11 left, and the Rockets were down by one. He looked up at the scoreboard and said a quick prayer.

"Okay. Rick Fox to bring it in. It's in to Kobe on the right wing, ohh, right where he wants it. Kobe's playing with Mobley. Cuttino shows him no mercy though. Down into Shaq. 54 seconds left in Game 1. Rockets battled from 19 points down. Here's the hoook...blocked by Kelvin Cato! Oh...mother. Francis grabs the loose ball. 47 seconds. He gives it off to Rice in the corner. He's smothered by Fox. Rice lobs it to the rookie Griffin. He gives it to Mobley. Mobley gonna shoo - no! He passes it back to Francis! 28 seconds! Francis drives it down the baseline...ELEVATES AND SLAMS IT OVER SHAQ FOR TWO AND A FOUL! Oh, Steve Francis! Free throw good! 26 seconds for LA to win it. They take a timeout."

Francis had never felt this good heading toward the bench. He had just given his team a two-point lead! Cuttino was hanging on his arm like a drunk girlfriend. The bench mobbed his ashy ass. They had to win...they had to.

"Horry brings the ball inbounds. This is it, folks. They quickly get it across and down to Shaquille. 20 seconds. Shaq turns...spins...powers it in...Blocked again by Cato! Shaq gets the board, though. 12 seconds. He goes up...Cato slaps it over the midcourt line! Oh, my!!!! Francis has it! The Lakers will never catch him! Rockets win! Rockets win! Rocket take Game 1!!!

Steve and Cuttino jumped on an emotional, fired Kelvin Cato.
"You did it you did it you did it you did it! K-TOE! MVP! Hell yeah!"
"All in a days work, guys. My three blocks gave us a lot of momentum. Maybe now [sniff, sniff]...maybe now, I'll [sniff] finally be respected on the Clutchcity.net BBS!"

 

what?

 

Wow, dude, thanks a lot. I'm beaming.