One of the proudest moments in my life...

... was when I was the MTC. You may think this is a story about how I had a spiritual epiphany or I mastered the Italian language or something MTCish like that.

It's not. I've had basketball on the brain for the last 100 hours and I was reminded of this little fuzzy memory.

We played Elimination during our gym time on a daily basis. And by daily, I mean every day.

Quick re-cap. Elimination is called by various names. Some call it Knock-Out, some call it Lightning, some call it other things. Elimination is the game where you line up, give the first two people in line basketballs and get them shooting until they make a basket. If the 2nd person gets the ball in the hoop before the first, the first is eliminated.

Anyway, it started out with just the Italian sisters, or the Sorelle. The Portuguese Irmas soon joined. Then the Spanish Hermanas. We started getting some Elders asking to play. Then we started beating those Elders, so more asked to play. We beat them too. Elders kept showing up, wanting to be the one to show up the Sisters... but we were good. We had been practicing. Pretty soon, about half of the gym was playing Elimination with us. Included in the numbers were all of the Elders in my MTC district. It was nearing the end of gym time and these Elders decided to make things interesting. They decided to join the game and they said that if a Sister won this last game of Elimination (for there was time only for one more round) then they would buy the whole district watermelon airheads. If a Sister won, we'd have to buy the whole district watermelon airheads.

Now, you must understand something. The entire reason I learned Italian was because of watermelon airheads. I ate them like candy. Literally. For some reason I had this 2 month obsession with watermelon airheads. Plus, we were playing for major bragging rights, not just airheads. We needed this win. And so we began to line up. There were probably 30 people in line.

There is a rule in Elimination that says if you win a round, you get to choose the starting position of the next round. Some chose off to the right behind the three-point line. Some chose the free throw line. The Elder who had won the game before chose half-court as the starting position, hoping to help our Elders out with their bet. Everyone knows girls have wimpy arms, right?

Wrong.

We weren't merely girls, we were SISTERS. And we were holding out own! We were down to ten people and five Sisters were still left. An Elder got out. We cheered. A Sister got out. The Elders cheered. Another Elder out. More cheering from the Sisters... and so on and so forth until it was down to me, Elder Kezarian and Elder Johnson. Both were members of my district. I made quick work of Kezarian and it was down to me and Johnson. Davy (as I call him now that we're home) is a big fellow. He played college ball and had quite the jump shot. Observe him below:

Elder Johnson, Sister Hudson, and myself. This was right before Hudson and I went home from Rome.

Johnson and I had a healthy rivalry. We sat by each other in class and always got pretty competitive during classroom games. Make no mistake, my district was very tight in the MTC... but we liked to win. Johnson looked at me and said, "You're out Sorella..." I ignored him and jogged to take my place in line behind him.

He sunk his first shot. So did I. He went in for a layup on his second and I was right behind him. We were staying pretty consistent. But we were getting tired. My arms were burning from trying to heave that ball half-way across the count every time I shot from the starting position. Johnson was gaining on me. It was looking a little rough there for a while. He almost got me out twice. I was sprinting from place to place, losing energy, losing confidence. Everyone was watching, waiting, hoping. He was right behind me every time.

Finally, a stroke of luck came my way. He shot and the ball rebounded off the rim, causing it to fly off in the opposite direction. Johnson had to go chase it down, buying me time. I hurried and sunk one basket then ran back to the starting line to get behind Johnson. He was dribbling back towards the basket. He was going in for an easy layup. I didn't have much time.

I knew that if I shot, I wouldn't make it close enough to the basket to do any damage. My arms were too tired. I had one choice: the granny throw. Yep, that between-the-legs underhand lob that would at least get the ball down the court. I granny threw my best. And the the miracle happened.

Johnson was mid-air. His ball was certainly on its way in the basket. My shot flew upward and bounced once halfway between the half-court line and the basket. It careened upward again, arcing down until it bounced again directly underneath the basket. The power behind the granny through was enough that the second bounce propelled the ball directly upward. Johnson's ball was almost through the net. Almost. It was like it was happening in slow motion. My ball pushed upward through the net, knocking Johnson's ball up and out. It fell to the floor as Johnson watched in horror. My ball sailed up, hit the backboard, and then sailed easily back down through the net.

I had won. In a miraculous combination of skill, luck and good karma I had won. Johnson hit the floor in dismay. The Elders shouted their protests and some applauded with begrudging approval. The Sisters, on the other hand, went wild. I was lifted (yes, actually lifted) on to their shoulders and cheered all the way out the door.

The feat became legend. Johnson wouldn't look me in the eye for two days. I was a star. And to this day, I haven't let him forget that story.

And THAT, my friends, remains one of the proudest moments of my life.