Epic Raptors fanfiction starting on page 4

[HumbleBumbleBee]

Think of the stories she could have written with VC and TMac back in the day.

[gdroz]

The writing is actually pretty good. Man girls can be crazy! I guess it's no worse than some of the fantasy crap guys indulge in.

[Alfred]

This is funny and entertaining and all, but I'm against spamming this to Raptors' players, media, etc. Don't ruin someone who isn't harming anyone.

I agree.

[Kayjay]

damn

it'd be a shame if it got too big right before things start getting really interesting

edit: look what i found

Tense doesn't begin to describe the air in the Raptors' locker room. Game 6 should've been theirs. Lost by one point. Edged out of what could've been a great post-season by a team of over-the-hill hasbeens. Some players, like Bargnani, are stone-cold on the outside to conceal the pain they feel on the inside. Others, like Delfino and T.J. Ford are close to tears of frustration.

Chris Bosh, however, is hurting worst of all. He's the star, the big name. To many people, he is the Raptors. So he's going to be blamed. He's the one who should've gotten Toronto's **** together, starting from Game 1. He's the one who's simply not good enough. And in the off-season, he'll be the one ripping himself apart because of this, training twice as hard and pushing himself past his limits.

Jose Calderon knows this, and it worries him. They've always gotten on well, Jose and Chris, but they've never been close friends, though not for Jose's lack of trying. The shy point guard's been trying for months to get Chris to be his friend, to no avail. It's not that Chris is a jerk or anything, he just focuses so hard on basketball that he doesn't care about making friends. But that's okay, Jose tells himself, because he's got other friends on the team.

He also wonders why it's so important that Chris like him.

He tries to tell himself that it's because Chris is such a great ball player and he could really use some pointers from him, but deep down Jose knows that's not it (he's never been one for hero worship, anyway). There's something about the way Chris looks when he's talking to someone about basketball or music or something that he likes. His eyes sparkle and his smile is blinding. It makes Jose smile too, for some reason. Jose doesn't understand why seeing Chris in a towel after his shower makes him weak in the knees and his mouth cotton dry either.

Jose glances over at Chris, who is shirtless and hanging his head against his locker. Jose's dry mouth and jelly knees are coming back to him. This time though, he doesn't fight it, and walks over to Chris, turning him around and forcing him to look him in the eyes. Chris' eyes are shiny, but not in the way that Jose likes; his eyes are shimmering with tears.

Jose envelopes Chris in a warm hug and says, "You played well. I'm proud of you."

And Chris hugs back, just as tightly.

[Alfred]

Taking the term 'Fantasy Basketball' to wild and previously un-thought-of new places.

[HumbleBumbleBee]

Tonight I'm going to stay home, wash my hair, make a cup of tea, cuddle up on the coach with a warm blanket and read some more fanfic...

[Schad]

Twenty thousand people were on their feet, their eyes fixated on the floor below, but they were mere background to him. Down a point with seconds remaining, in the biggest game of the year, Coach had drawn up the play...the ball was going to him. It always went to him, the golden boy, the unshakable hero who had captured the imagination of millions.

But for once, he was shaken. Big moments never bothered him before, but this one was bigger than them all, and the pressure rested heavily on his broad shoulders. In less than a minute, he would decide not just the fate of his team, and this city, but his legacy; make or miss, win or lose, what happened next would define him. A hungry press that had questioned his actions, questioned their relationship, waited in the box above to denounce his name, powdered donut on their shirts and venom in their fingers. A tingle went up his spine.

To the crowd following his every move as the horn sounded to end the timeout, it looked as if he next gazed skyward. But it wasn't the heavens he sought to dampen the rising crescendo of thoughts and fears and hopes and dreams battling for supremacy in his mind, it was her. The one who had spurred him to unthinkable heights, who had always been there for him...and who would love him no matter what happened next.

And in that moment, he found her; an island of calm, as always, in that sea of anxious humanity. And her eyes found his, and a gentle smile appeared on her lips. "You can do this", it communicated to him, "you will do this".

The pressure dissolved like morning fog off a placid lake, and he was ready. He took up his place, took stock of the defense, and prepared to receive the ball. The shrill, sharp tweet of the whistle; the familiar feel of leather on his soft hands as he received the pass. One quick, confident dribble, followed by that sweet release. The ball rising, arcing like a rainbow as a thousand cameras immortalized its path.

Swish. Through the net, his triumph signified by an almost imperceptible ripple of nylon cord. But he'd known the result before then, known it before he'd even caught the ball. From the moment his eyes had met hers, all doubt had vacated his mind...all that remained was to make good the promise contained in that smile. And as his teammates rushed to congratulate him, he sought her out again.

As before, their eyes met, and as his teammates lifted him in the air, Vince mouthed the words he'd longed to say all day:

"I love you, mom."

[bigdirty]

All things considered, it's probably healthier for a girl to be fantasizing and writing about a relationship with human beings than **** vampires or werewolves. I mean wtf is up with girls nowadays? Although Andrea has no heart so that might make him undead... But Sonny has no brain so he might be a zombie too... FUUUUUU

[Brinbe]

wut...

well, I did need to kill an hour...

smh

[doudoub]

wtf are the stories real? lmao

[bigdirty]

Tonight I'm going to stay home, wash my hair, make a cup of tea, cuddle up on the coach with a warm blanket and read some more fanfic...

Srsly, I copied everything to a word file just in case it gets taken down and I can't enjoy it. I'll prolly start reading after The Office.

[HumbleBumbleBee]

Schad. is really good at writing these....i think we may have found "Emma"

[Kayjay]

that's just cruel schad

i've played that one out in my head a million times

[Raps in 4]

Twenty thousand people were on their feet, their eyes fixated on the floor below, but they were mere background to him. Down a point with seconds remaining, in the biggest game of the year, Coach had drawn up the play...the ball was going to him. It always went to him, the golden boy, the unshakable hero who had captured the imagination of millions.

But for once, he was shaken. Big moments never bothered him before, but this one was bigger than them all, and the pressure rested heavily on his broad shoulders. In less than a minute, he would decide not just the fate of his team, and this city, but his legacy; make or miss, win or lose, what happened next would define him. A hungry press that had questioned his actions, questioned their relationship, waited in the box above to denounce his name, powdered donut on their shirts and venom in their fingers. A tingle went up his spine.

To the crowd following his every move as the horn sounded to end the timeout, it looked as if he next gazed skyward. But it wasn't the heavens he sought to dampen the rising crescendo of thoughts and fears and hopes and dreams battling for supremacy in his mind, it was her. The one who had spurred him to unthinkable heights, who had always been there for him...and who would love him no matter what happened next.

And in that moment, he found her; an island of calm, as always, in that sea of anxious humanity. And her eyes found his, and a gentle smile appeared on her lips. "You can do this", it communicated to him, "you will do this".

The pressure dissolved like morning fog off a placid lake, and he was ready. He took up his place, took stock of the defense, and prepared to receive the ball. The shrill, sharp tweet of the whistle; the familiar feel of leather on his soft hands as he received the pass. One quick, confident dribble, followed by that sweet release. The ball rising, arcing like a rainbow as a thousand cameras immortalized its path.

Swish. Through the net, his triumph signified by an almost imperceptible ripple of nylon cord. But he'd known the result before then, known it before he'd even caught the ball. From the moment his eyes had met hers, all doubt had vacated his mind...all that remained was to make good the promise contained in that smile. And as his teammates rushed to congratulate him, he sought her out again.

As before, their eyes met, and as his teammates lifted him in the air, Vince mouthed the words he'd longed to say all day:

"I love you, mom."

You win the internets. Reminds me of this gem:

Glad you brought this up, Hank; it's time that the hero receives his due on this board. While kids today talk about the testicular fortitude of the LeBrons and Kobes of the league, I'll take ol' Darrick Murray any day of the week.

Back in the day, most players dared not even look Jordan in the eye, such was their fear. But Murray, back down? Hell no. He fixed his steely gaze on the supposed Greatest of All Time, and let loose a river of trash talk the likes of which the NBA had never seen. Such was his indomitable spirit; his small stature belied an enormous heart (enlarged, I hear, from a diet of raw beef and even rawer Scotch) and cajones to match. And while Jordan went on to win that game, you can be sure that he lost others in his career, and I'll swear to my dying day that those losses began with the seeds of doubt planted by D-Murr.

To watch him on offense was to watch confidence personified. The shot clock, the defense, the score...gazing at Murray's serene conscience, you could tell that these were of little concern to the great man. He had a passionate relationship with the rim and the rim only, and like any good lover, his eye never strayed.

Drive to the bucket? Never. As any third grader will tell you, three is bigger than two, and Murray was not one for a partial victory. So he'd stand at the top of the arc, and he'd wait until the moment was right, the tension building in every pair of shoulders but his. Then he'd raise up, a shot so effortless that his feet never left the ground.

Swish. Shots that few in league history would even consider. Shots that would have made Reggie Miller blanch, would have gotten Dell Curry benched. He'd take 'em, and he'd make 'em, and no coach in his lifetime ever dared question him. Such was the legend of Darrick Murray.

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[overdose]

Think of the stories she could have written with VC and TMac back in the day.

[LargeBabyDavis]

I hope you didn't scare her away these are epic. Probably the best things i ve read in my life.

[U_Mad]

Ohh lord...this is great, im hoping for a sequel

[Geddy]

Emma is the best thing to have happened to me all week.

[doudoub]

this story is hilarious

[Shevy]

This sh*t is FCKIN GOLDEN!!!

I haven't laughed so hard for a while.