"Man this guy is a lot faster than I thought. But I can beat him." I remember thinking. Then coach yells out, "You're not supposed to be running them that fast." Lights out.

I wake up to the alarm going off and realize that I'm already going to be late for my third day of class. I rush and make my bed, brush my teeth and head out the door running to the gym. I rush and change my clothes to the shorts and shirt provided by the guy in the cage. I rush out and see the rest of the class already starting in their drills. Coach tells me to run a few laps to warm up and then get in line and run the drills with the rest of the class. We practice our passing, dribbling and shooting. Finally, a fun class. The first one in my college career. Up to this point all I have been focused on is just getting the requirements out of the way in order to graduate. This was going to be a fun class to play the sport that I love. More shooting, dribbling and running; kind of stacking up the competition at the class progresses. It's only the third day of class and only new one or two of the other students. More shooting, running and sizing up the competition. It was an early class so it would be nice to get some exercise and for the day. With the class nearing an end Coach lined us up on the baseline in order to run sprints. Suicides. Lines. Or whatever you call running to the free-throw line back to the baseline; and a half court and back; then to the office the free-throw line and back, and finally baseline to baseline. We hear the whistle blow and I've done these a thousand times so I know that I can run them pretty quickly. By the half-court and back is me and another guy running neck and neck. We reached the opposite baseline and now we are both in a full-court sprint to reach the other side. But about the free-throw line I got one too fast and fell forward to diving into the baseline wall headfirst. Not feeling anything just blacking out.