The crack of the helmets
the grunt of the men
the sound of the crowds
deafening noise ringing in his head

This was it
one last shot
his number is called
he's has to give all hes got

there's the snap;
he runs
here's the throw;
he turns

The sounds fade,
the lights dim,
the ball slows
time stopped for him

He clears his mind
and focuses on the ball
and when he grabs it
he braces for his fall

The lights grew bright
the crowd get loud
He was the hero, he thought
as he looks at the board

but to his dismay
No time left
and the score did not change