By Lexi MooreAs each player ascends the ladder and snaps another section of the net, the hearts of their teammates swell with pride and the endless hours of hard work suddenly melt away.Cutting down the net after a championship victory is a rite of passage for basketball players. Nets line trophy cases in high schools and colleges across America. They mean little to people who view them unless they were there to see the faces of the men and women who earned the right to take the net down.I was a sports-minded girl in high school. I played basketball in the fall, volleyball throughout the winter months, was on the track team, although I don’t think I was ever much help, and during the summer I played softball.Throughout my years as a Madison Bulldog, I played in several state tournaments and a national softball tournament. At the time, sports occupied much of my life. My schedule rarely allowed for days off between practices, and athletics in the Midwest requires logging several thousand miles bumping along on a yellow school bus. Another quirk about playing in a small midwestern town was that you played with the same teammates regardless of the sport. You were the girls that didn’t mind breaking a sweat at 7 a.m. on a school day or sporting the occasional black eye.I loved my teammates and coaches. They were an extended family throughout the year. Seasons would begin with intense training. I can remember dreading the start of August. Two-a-day practices for basketball always kicked me in the butt and awoke muscles I had forgotten about, but by mid-season the team would be rolling.The girls I was fortunate to play with were good. They were committed to the team and strived to be the best. This attitude paid off for our team as the playoff season started. I always viewed the state tournament as a mini-vacation — my best friends and I in a hotel room, largely unsupervised for several days. I didn’t mind missing school, and teachers tend to go easy on you when you are missing school in an attempt at a state title. But best of all, it meant my wardrobe would expand. With the expectation of the short little guards, most of my teammates were about my size. We would trade shirts, shoes, dresses, anything. Plus it was the only time I had an around-the-clock hair and makeup team. Of course, fashion and fun in the hotel always took a back seat to the games.We knew that the fire and police escort along with at least a dozen local residents would be waiting at the edge of town when we returned home, and we needed to bring back something they could be proud of. We wanted a new banner for the gym, a new date on the billboard outside of town and the cheers.Moments like that are few and far between in adult life. In fact, I would bet I won’t even be around for my next police escort. The hundreds of laps, lines, free throws, drills, missed social events and gym socks were worth it. As our Hills-Beaver Creek athletes prepare for the their game tonight, I hope they take the time to internalize the excitement. There really is nothing else like it when they move on to their adult lives. I also hope they understand that the town is behind them regardless of the outcome.This boys’ team has provided countless hours of entertainment, and the spectators in H-BC are proud of you.