The Final Buzzer at the Dog Pound
The locker room at Yonkers Middle High School was usually a chaotic symphony of shouting, slamming locker doors, and blasting hip-hop. But tonight, after the final game of the season, the air hung heavy and quiet.
John sat on the chipped wooden bench, staring down at his sneakers. He had untied the left one ten minutes ago but hadn’t moved to take it off yet.
“You planning on living here, J?”
John looked up to see Marcus, his point guard and best friend since the sixth grade, tossing his jersey into a duffel bag.
“Maybe,” John chuckled, though the laugh felt hollow. He finally kicked off his shoe and leaned back against the cool metal of the locker. “It’s just hitting me, man. That was it. No more warm-ups, no more hearing Coach scream about box-outs until his face turns purple.”
Marcus sat down next to him, the humor fading from his face. “Yeah. It went by fast.”
John looked around the room. He saw the dent in the locker three rows down where he’d banged his head freshman year. He smelled the familiar mix of floor wax and Icy Hot.
“It’s not even the game I’m gonna miss the most,” John said, his voice dropping. “I mean, I love the game. But it’s… it’s the bus rides to Gorton or Saunders. It’s stopping for pizza after a win. It’s you guys.”
He gestured to the few guys left in the room.
“I’m gonna miss the noise,” John admitted. “You know? How loud it gets in here when we’re hyping each other up. Next year, wherever we end up, we won’t be the ‘Yonkers Boys’ anymore. We’ll just be freshmen again, trying to fit in.”
Marcus nodded, dapping John up. “We’re still gonna be boys, John. College doesn’t change that. But yeah… nothing’s gonna be exactly like this again.”
John finally stood up, grabbing his bag. He took one last look around the locker room—the sanctuary where he had grown from a nervous kid into a varsity captain.
“Let’s get out of here,” John said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I think the guys are heading to the diner.”
“One last run?” Marcus asked, opening the door.
John smiled, a genuine one this time. “Yeah. One last run.”
