SACCO: Floyd wasn't alone

GREENVILLE

Standing outside the Riverheads’ locker room, Kelsie Floyd’s eyes were still red and swollen. Her cheeks still wet with tears and her nose still a little bit runny.

Then teammate Kristen Moody walked by, gave her a keep-your-head-up pat on the bottom and Floyd, who now knows that the name “free throw” is very deceptive, finally managed a smile.

“It was crazy,” she says, “knowing that the score was tied, the game was over and it was all up to me for those two shots.”

It’s what you dream of while dribbling around transmission-fluid and oil stains on mom and pop’s blacktop driveway. Nobody lined along the lane, time expired. Feeling like the world, your team and a win are all on your shoulders.

Things are a bit different when the clock hits triple zeros, the referees raises his hand and sends you to the foul line. Gone are the players that line the paint like runway beacons through a fog. Instead of being one of 10, you’re standing alone on the court.

You might as well be in the middle of the Sahara.

“You’re all alone,” Floyd says, her eyes starting to dry a bit and the red marks that ringed them starting to fade away. If it weren’t for Floyd, the Gladiators (1-4) would have never gotten the chance to go for the win.

With Glenvar driving and time winding down, the sophomore jumped in front of a Highlander pass into the lane and took it the length of the court, the home side of the bleachers and her teammates screaming at her and pointing at the clock. She never picked up her dribble, opting instead to slice her way through the lane, almost hitting the layup as she drew the foul.

“She made a great play to get herself to the line,” says Riverheads coach Dickie Bell.

And as the referees cleared the court and handed the ball to Floyd, things started to get crazy. It was the quintessential high-school sports moment.

“I just had it in my heart. I’m going to do this,” she says before repeating herself. “I’m going to do this.”

As she took a few dribbles at the line, Moody, Brittany Heizer, Rebecca Grubb and Hayley Morris stood on the court near the Riverheads bench, their arms entwined as they leaned down in anticipation of the celebration. Floyd looked toward her friends and Moody quickly flashed one finger. All Riverheads needs is one.

“You’re all alone,” Floyd says. “Hearing the crowd – they’re cheering you on the right and booing you on the left.”

All alone. All alone.

Her first shot is a little long, bounces on the back iron and rolls tantalizingly along the edge of the rim before falling to the floor.

The Glenvar side gets louder. The Riverheads side kicks its cheering up a notch. Moody quickly flashes that single finger once again.

“You just have to tune it out,” Floyd says.

Her second shot barley hits the front of the rim before falling to the hardwood. The Glenvar side erupts in cheers and Floyd puts her head down. It stays there for only a split second before the Gladiators meet her as she reaches the bench and begin to slap her back and pat her shoulders.

“They’re behind me with everything,” she says of her teammates. “Even though I missed [the shots], [the team] was right there.”

The final score Friday was 63-56. In the overtime period Riverheads only scored one point.

It came from the free-throw line four seconds into extra time.

Guess who hit it?

“Yeah, I laughed a bit,” says Floyd of her free-throw shot in OT.

“I know how to do it next time,” she says, before breaking into a smile and walking toward her friends who just happen to be teammates.

She wasn’t alone at the line Friday, even if she felt like she was.