What I needed was time—time to think things through, to get a grip on what to do. But time was one thing I didn’t have. Everything was racing along, carrying me with it whether I was ready or not. The first game of the state tournament was Thursday at three o’clock in Tacoma.
There was a pep rally last period on Wednesday. The baseball team sat down on the floor of the gym while the pep team did flips and the band blared the fight song. It felt strange sitting there with everybody staring down at us. My head was pounding from the music and from lack of sleep.
Eventually Coach Wheatley walked to the microphone. “On behalf of the team,” he said, looking up into the stands, “I’d like to thank you for the support you’ve given us this year. Now it’s our turn to give something back to you.” He reached under the podium, retrieved a gleaming silver trophy and held it high above his head. He read the inscription: “Crown Hill Vikings—Metro Region Champions!”
The place went nuts. Kids stomped and screamed. Chanting started: “Take the State! Take the State! Take the State!”
Wheatley held up his hand for quiet. “I know you love us,” he joked. “But I also know you want to go home on time. So let me move on.” The place quieted, and he continued. “Individual awards don’t mean a whole heck of a lot if a team doesn’t do well, but when a team does well, then it’s a pleasure to give them out. This year it is a pleasure. The trophy for Most Valuable Player goes to . . . Josh Daniels!”
Again the gym exploded. Kids rose to their feet; they stomped; they whistled. Josh strode to the podium, shook Coach Wheatley’s hand, and took the trophy. A new chant started: “Daniels! Daniels! Daniels!” Josh thrust his trophy into the air in rhythm.
“The coaches decide the MVP award,” Wheatley went on. “But this next trophy is voted by the players. It goes to a young man who was the last player to make the team. I penciled his name in only when I’d counted the uniforms and was sure I had enough. He doesn’t have big numbers, but he’s got a big heart. Our Most Inspirational Player is Ryan Ward.”
I was so stunned that even after I heard my name I didn’t move. Garrett Curtis had to nudge me to get me up to the podium. But once Coach Wheatley put that trophy in my hand, once I grasped it tight, waves of pleasure, of excitement, rolled through my body. I looked to my teammates and they were all smiling and clapping for me. “Ward! Ward! Ward!” was the chant that was coming down from the rafters. Josh came over to me, put his arm around my shoulder, and the two of us raised our trophies into the air together.
Coach Cliff came up, put his hand out to me. “Congratulations,” he said. “Congratulations.”
Mr. Haskin took over the assembly. The baseball team moved to the first few rows of the bleachers as he read off all the other prizes and awards. Chess Club, Math Club, Cheerleaders, Choir. On and on he went. I wasn’t listening. I was holding that gleaming trophy so tightly my knuckles were white.
“Finally,” Haskin said, and when I heard that word I came back to attention, “this year, for the first time in the history of our school, a Crown Hill High student has been named the Seattle Times High School Student of the Year. Her achievement is really quite remarkable. So even though she’s not here today, let’s have a round of applause for Monica Roby.”