Reginald's MKBA Championship Free Throws

The air in Mario Stadium is thick with tension as the MKBA Championship game of the 2024-25 season reaches its climax. The scoreboard glares down at us: 99-98, Shy Guy Storm in the lead. The Mario All-Stars—Mario, Luigi, and me, Reginald, the lone human on the roster—stand at the precipice of victory or defeat. The buzzer has just sounded, and Joe, the Shy Guy Storm's captain, has fouled me on a last-second shot attempt. Now, it's all come down to this: two free throws, with the season hanging in the balance.

The crowd falls into a hushed silence as the lights dim, casting a spotlight on the free-throw line. Lance the Toad hops onto the court, basketball in hand, his wide eyes gleaming with the gravity of the moment. Mario and Luigi give me encouraging nods from half court before turning away, joining the rest of the players in a respectful huddle. The Shy Guy Storm—Joe, Mark, and Eric—watch from their side, masks hiding their expressions but their tension palpable.

Up in the commentary booth, Toad and Toadette lean forward, their voices crackling through the stadium speakers. "Folks, this is it!" Toad exclaims. "Reginald's got two shots to decide the championship! One miss, one make, and we're headed to overtime. Two misses, and the Shy Guy Storm take the title. Two makes, and the Mario All-Stars keep their crown!"

Toadette chimes in, "The pressure's on, but Reginald's been clutch all season. Let's see what he's got!"

Lance steps up to me, holding out the ball. "Reginald," he says solemnly, "it's your moment. Take your time." He hands me the ball and hops back, leaving me alone with the hoop 15 feet away. The silence is deafening—no cheers, no boos, just the sound of my own heartbeat thumping in my ears.

I step to the line, bouncing the ball once, twice, feeling its familiar texture against my palms. My first shot has to be perfect. I bend my knees, eyes locked on the rim, and let it fly. The ball arcs through the air, spinning cleanly, and—swish—drops through the net. The score ties at 99-99. A ripple of gasps and murmurs runs through the crowd, but it's quickly stifled. One down, one to go. Now, it's for the championship.

Lance hops back onto the court, raising his hands to quiet the stadium. "Before the final shot," he announces, his voice echoing, "I want to take a moment to honor this incredible 2024-25 MKBA season. From the first tip-off to this nail-biting finish, we've seen heart, hustle, and history made. To the players who gave it all, the coaches who guided us, the refs who kept it fair, and you—the fans who filled these stands and cheered from home—thank you for making this season unforgettable!"

The crowd erupts in applause, a brief release of tension before settling back into silence. Lance turns to me, nodding. "Reginald, the floor's yours."

I step forward, ball tucked under my arm, and take a deep breath. "Wow," I start, my voice steady despite the nerves. "What a ride this has been. To my teammates—Mario, Luigi, the whole All-Stars crew—you've made me feel like part of the family. To the Shy Guy Storm—Joe, Mark, Eric—you've pushed us to our limits, and that's what makes this game great. To the coaches, the refs, Toad and Toadette up in the booth, and every single one of you here and watching at home—thank you. This is what the MKBA is all about: heart, teamwork, and moments like this." I pause, grinning as I lift the ball. "So, Mario Stadium, are you ready for the most exciting part? One shot—for the championship!"

The crowd roars back, "YES!" The energy surges through me like a jolt.

Lance takes center stage again, raising his arms. "Alright, everybody, let's count it down together! Five seconds for Reginald to aim—on 'SHOOT,' he lets it fly! Here we go!" He turns to the stands, and the entire stadium joins in.

"FIVE!" I plant my feet, eyes on the hoop.

"FOUR!" I bounce the ball once, steadying my grip.

"THREE!" My knees bend, muscle memory kicking in.

"TWO!" I take a deep breath, the world narrowing to just me and the rim.

"ONE!" I rise up, arms coiled, ready.

"SHOOT!" The word explodes from the crowd as I release the ball. It sails through the air, spinning perfectly, and—swish—cuts through the net. The stadium erupts into chaos, a deafening roar as the scoreboard flips to 100-99. Mario and Luigi rush me, Mario leaping into a triumphant high-five while Luigi claps me on the back.

Toad's voice booms over the speakers, "HE'S DONE IT! REGINALD MAKES BOTH FREE THROWS, AND THE MARIO ALL-STARS ARE YOUR 2024-25 MKBA CHAMPIONS!"

Confetti rains down as the Shy Guy Storm slumps in defeat, Joe tipping his mask in respect. I stand there, soaking it in—the cheers, the lights, the victory. We did it. I did it. The championship stays with us, and Mario Stadium will talk about this night for years to come.