"Nervous?"
Li Wei slowly and methodically wrapped tape around his wrists as he glanced at Travis, who stood beside him.
Travis was bent over next to him, hands braced on his knees. His face had a sickly, ashen pallor. His chest heaved violently, and he made suppressed, dry-heaving sounds.
They were in the visiting team's locker room at Yankee Stadium in New York.
Today was the Public School Athletic League championship.
Travis snapped his head up, trying to force a nonchalant smile. To Li Wei, however, the expression looked more like a twitch.
"There have to be ten thousand people out there, plus all the media in New York... and coaches from every major college around here... I feel like there's a blender running in my stomach."
"Then turn the blender off," Li Wei said with a shrug. "Just snap the ball, get it into my hands, and I'll handle the rest."
