Fantasy Friday: The Courtside Chiller, Part IV

"Coach Bly, come quick!" The student trainer said.
"The baskets have come loose; they're flying around
Like discuses! One clocked Mel on the head,
The other's pinning Jacob to the ground!"
They rushed inside, and found things had got worse:
The lights were flashing, brutal laughter sent
Great waves of terror through all hearers. "Curse
That kid," Bly muttered. Then a rafter bent
Itself around the trainer's limbs and held him fast.
Coach Bly just steeled himself, began his chant,
And dodged as basketballs flew through the air.
"No, stop," a child's voice said. "No, Dad, you can't."
It sounded like his long-dead son. "Please, spare--"
Teeth gritted, he ignored this wicked ploy,
Though tears shone from his eyes for his lost boy.