Trish stood at the center of the court, waiting for the game to start. She looked around, taking it all in: the noise of the crowd, the familiar look of determination on his teammates’ faces, flashes of cameras everywhere.
She tried to build up the excitement he used to feel, but it was futile when she felt like death warmed over. Her eyes still felt like sandpaper after the sleepless night, and she could feel the nauseous tide of a rising headache at her temples.
The cheering from the crowd resonated through her tired body. It took her a moment to realize they were chanting her name. Her strained smile turned genuine and Trish applauded, thanking the fans and causing another wave of “TRISH, TRISH, TRISH.”
At last, the whistle was blown and the match started.
For a while, everything was fine. Her knee didn’t bother her at all, and her headache receded, letting her enjoy the game.
Nothing prepared her for what happened ten minutes into the game.