Cobe Myers had always been close—close to making the basketball team, close to being good enough. Every year, he tried out, and every year, he ended up watching from the sidelines. But this time felt different. This time, he was ready.
He’d spent the summer working harder than ever—shooting, running, studying the game. When tryouts at Corry High School began, Cobe felt the pressure. He was surrounded by taller, more experienced players, but he wasn’t backing down. He was determined to prove he belonged.
During the scrimmages, Cobe ended up facing Jason, the star player. At first, Jason was all over him, dominating the game. But instead of getting frustrated, Cobe focused. He anticipated Jason’s moves, managed to steal the ball, and sprinted down the court. With a deep breath, he let the shot fly.
Swish.
For a second, he just stood there, stunned. The gym exploded into cheers, and he couldn’t believe it—he had just made a shot that might change everything.
When Coach Pat Trotter called out the names of the players who made the team, Cobe’s heart raced. He was the last name called.
“You earned it, Myers,” Coach Trotter said.
Cobe could barely process it. He had finally made the team. All the hard work had paid off. Now, he was ready to prove it wasn’t a fluke.
That night, sleep was nearly impossible. He replayed every moment from the tryout, thinking about what he could’ve done better and what he needed to keep working on. He knew this wasn’t the end. He had to keep pushing.
The next morning at practice, Cobe was there early. He worked on his shooting, his defense, and ran through drills over and over again. The older players noticed his effort, and a few even offered him advice. Jason, though, stayed distant—watching him like a rival. Cobe didn’t let it faze him. If anything, it made him more determined.
As the season went on, Cobe kept surprising everyone—his teammates, his coach, even himself. He wasn’t the tallest or the fastest, but he was relentless. Whether it was sinking a clutch free throw, making a crucial steal, or setting up a game-winning shot, Cobe always found a way to contribute.
One game stood out above the rest. The team was down by two points with only seconds left. Coach Trotter called a timeout to draw up a play, but when he turned to Cobe, he said something that made his heart skip a beat.
“I want you to take the shot,” Pat said.
Cobe’s nerves kicked in, but he knew he couldn’t back down now. The ball came to him at the top of the key, and time seemed to slow. Jason was right there, guarding him tight, but Cobe’s focus never wavered. He jab-stepped to create space, pulled up, and released the ball.
For a brief moment, everything else faded away.
Swish.
The buzzer went off, and the gym erupted into cheers. Cobe’s teammates were on him in an instant, lifting him up in celebration. He’d won the game. For the first time, he truly felt like he belonged. That moment wasn’t just about one shot—it was proof that all the work, all the sacrifice, had paid off.
And as he stood there, surrounded by his teammates, he knew this was just the beginning.