Slowly the crowd began to build in the back gym. It was a small room that could barely hold a floor hockey game, let alone the riot that was about to unfold. With every minute that passed, another person would walk into the gym. Each person brought with them an ego...

For most people, that was the sole appeal of the game. I could feel the tightness still in my arm from last week. After 8 weeks, my arm should have been used to the game. I began to throw a ball against the wall lightly just to get the circulation going. I trailed off into my own little world. Each throw against the wall got harder and harder. I began to picture my second grade teacher Mrs. Payne. What I wouldn't give for her over-disciplined gray-haired bitter-at-life self to be here. I'm sure the more I thought about her the harder I threw.

The week's events cycled through my mind. It was finally Friday. It was finally 4pm on Friday. I was so glad to be out of classes and in the midst of the game. I took a break from warming up and peered around the gym. The 15 or so people had grown into 40. Each person was beginning their weekly ritual. Their warm-up to get ready for the fight. A handful of people were on the sideline making conversation. Didn't they know what was about to happen once the clock reached 4? They wouldn't be ready for it. I would be. I had been there 30 minutes early. I practically was here three days ago. Final exams would be here soon. This had become my outlet. My place to forget about my week. To at least forget about finals for a couple hours.

The crowd was growing restless. It was almost time. I walked over to the midline and placed my ball on the line. I carefully made sure the ball was exactly in the middle. It had to be perfect each time. I made the extra effort to make sure my hand-drawn logo was facing up. I peered down the line. It was perfectly lined with projectiles from wall to wall. Each player's pride had made sure his ball's logo was facing up. The crowd had moved to the middle. Players began to count off. Each team made their way to opposite walls. Ones on my left and twos on my right. Or was it twos on my left? It didn't really matter. I took one last look at my ball and walked to my wall.

As I walked back I made sure to scout out who was on my team. After weeks of playing with the same people, it was easy to spot who the good players were. I nestled my back up against the wall and raised my hand to start the game. Maybe this is why I come every Friday? For this exact moment when the game is about to begin. I glanced around one last time at my team and then looked across the floor. The other team was filled with my old teammates from last week. Or was it the week before? One week I was with them and the next I was against them. It didn't matter now. I had my team for this Friday. I was still thinking about Mrs. Payne. I scanned the other team one last time with the hopes of seeing her lined up against me.

The game was about to beginl. Once I dropped my hand, no one would have control. I took a deep breath and rushed my hand out of the air. The silence of anticipation was replaced with the echo of a stampede. No one looked at the balls when they ran to the line. Everyone stared down the person running directly at them. A lot happens in the two seconds it takes to get to the line. Before you can wrap your scrappy hands around a ball, you disappear into a fantasy. My fantasy started long before the game began.

Maybe I've seen Die Hard too many times on the TBS "Man-made Movie." Or maybe as a kid I saw Braveheart long before I should have. Whatever sense of a warrior that was installed in me long ago comes out. The line has turned into ground-zero. Players are squirming to get ahold of the balls. A ball manages to roll out of the crowd right to my feet. I grabbed it as fast as possible, keeping an eye on the other team at all times.

The game has officially begun. The gym sky was filled with red dodgeballs coming from all sides. I lost myself in the game, running from side to side, trying to make my throws and dodges as dramatic as possible. I was in the midst of a movie. My life for the next two hours would consist of trying to survive, trying to win, and most importantly trying to kill.