Today's story sent to us from Thomas, is taking place during the early 2000s in Soissons - France.

Almost twenty years ago, only one thing occupied my mind: basketball.

That evening, the game had a special meaning. I was wearing the Beauvais jersey and the opposite side was Soissons, my former club. The club where I had spent a season playing alongside a great team and won a championship title before leaving to continue my studies. Coming back to this gym on a Sunday afternoon where it all began, wasn’t just another league game. It was an opportunity, a statement. I wanted to show my former teammates, as well as my former coaches, and the crowd that had watched me grow that I had become a real basketball player.

The game was tough, tense. The atmosphere was electric, the supporters loud, insults flying at every whistle. On my end, everything was going well. I was in my zone. And with less than two minutes left, we were leading by two points. Then came that moment, the one that can change everything. A turnover by the opponent resulting to a fast break, handed to me on a silver platter. The perfect chance to show that I was more than just a shooter. I grabbed the ball and sprinted towards the hoop. In my head, everything was clear. I was going to go up strong, slam it down, throw down a dunk that would silence the entire gym. I slowed-up slightly, gathered myself, jumped. The ball was above the rim. Then .... BAM! A block out of nowhere. Brutal. Powerful. The ball bounced off me before flying out of bounds. I came back down to earth, both literally and figuratively. In front of me stood a former teammate, the one I hadn’t seen coming. He looked at me and let out a scream, all fired up by the moment. The small crowd erupted. He just knew - that was the defensive play of the game. But shockingly the referee thought otherwise. His whistle blew, his arm went up. Foul. Two free throws for me.

The noise level rose even more. The Soissons players protested as my opponent stared at me in disbelief. And I knew... there was no foul. I knew it, he knew it, everyone in the gym but the refs knew it. My coach locked eyes with me. "Focus," he said. But in his words, I heard something else: “grab the gift and open it”. I stepped to the line, took a deep breath, and went through my routine. First free throw: swish. Second free throw: same. Two points. It might not have been the dunk I had dreamed of, but on the scoresheet, it counted just the same. In the end, Soissons had one last chance to win with a three-point shot but ended up in an airball. The buzzer sweetly sounded. Game over - Victory.

I didn’t get my dunk. But that night, I learned a simple, undeniable truth about basketball: two points are... two points.

Story overview