Making my High School C Team

I am fifteen years old, and I can only tell what I see, what I hear, and what I think is going on. If you want the whole story, you'd have to ask my dad, my coach, the other parents, and probably a few of my teammates. They might all tell it differently then I do.There are a little more than three minutes left before halftime, and we're losing by ten points. It's to a smaller school. Not a terrible school or anything, but a school we should be beating. We have more athletes than they do. At least that's what everybody said before the game.I'm sitting on the end of the bench.It isn't really the end. There are two guys sitting farther down than me, but they are on the JV team, even though they are in my grade. They are just here to watch. I look across the gym and see my dad.