Gemotions

“Alright, listen up,” Coach Ramirez barked, his voice sharp and loud. He hated having to do this. He hated the feeling of eyes on him. He felt the tightness in his chest. He felt his hands begin to sweat. He had always hated confrontation.

He looked at the faces, expectant, hopeful, and knew what he had to do. His fingers drummed a rapid tattoo on the basketball. This was going to suck.

He started reading the list, the names sounding hollow in the echoing silence. He stopped at one particular name. He saw the flicker of hope vanish from the player's face. The boy’s jaw dropped slightly. He turned his head away and stared at the floor.