Page 28 of On Merit Alone
“This is as tight as I ever keep it.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t really need it,” he said, and when I gave him a look, he chuckled. “Because that’s where I feel comfortable with it. When I was coming back during my first practice after the injury, I didn't wear anything. And I felt so unstable and unsure of every movement I made. I felt like I was going to tear my ACL all over again even though every trainer, doctor, and coach told me I was ready.”
“So what happened?”
“I sucked,” he said. “I sucked all the way up until about the last practice before my first official game back. All my fundamentals were there, I just couldn’t help the feeling that something was off, and it was toying with my game.”
My ears perked as I realized how similar that was to my own situation. Maybe a little too excited, I pressed, “Then what?”
Slipping me a sideways glance, he said, “Then I ran into an old man at a restaurant with my family. He noticed us eating and had his grandson walk him over. He was a fan. He told me about his recent knee replacement. He said the two of us were alike and that even though I was young, I probably had old knees just like him from‘all that bending and jumping’.”
“That’s offensive,” I said. He laughed.
“It was funny.” He smiled, his eyes distant as if remembering. “You know what else he did?”
“What?”
Leaning his shoulder down to mine, he lowered his voice conspiratorially. “He gave me a knee brace recommendation.”
I gasped. I hated that I was playing into his dramatics, but I couldn't help it. “You do not wear?—”
“I do,” he said. “Randall, the old man, swore by them. And I thought, well, if it’s good enough for a whole new knee, it should be good enough for a whack ACL injury that’s supposedly healed.”
“And thatworked?” I wasn’t even hiding my disbelief at this point.
He nodded. “During the first shootaround I had to play around with it, but by game time warm-up, I was in a groove. As I laced it up one last time before tipoff, I told myself this would either work and I would feel great out there, or everyone was wrong, and I would tear my ACL again because I wasn’t ready. But what I wasn’t going to do was let something that already happened affect what I wanted most in that moment. Which was playing basketball like I used to.”
I hummed. I saw what he was getting at. But I still didn’t see how I could get there. “So you think I should get a brace?”
“I think you should do whatever makes you comfortable enough to really go for it,” he said. I hummed again, and we both stayed quiet for a moment. A nudge on my shoulder brought me out of my daze. I held my breath as I looked over at him, and there he was again, looking right at me. “Wanna give it another shot?”
Did I? Wasn’t that sort of scary, the extreme of it all? This would either work or I would injure myself again. Wasn’t there another level I could explore before the worst-case scenario?
But I guess when I thought about it, there never had been. When I’d injured myself, one moment I was in my element, playing like normal; and the next, I was on the ground and I wasn’t getting up.
Therewasno warning. No easing into the fact of my injury. So, in a cruel way, it made sense that there would be no signals if it were to happen again. And if I had to go out anyway, wouldn’t I rather go out playing my best rather than half-assing it to the inevitable end?
“Merit?” Ira asked from beside me, shoulder still leaning into mine. “What do you think?”
I didn’t mind his touch. I didn’t know when that had happened, but suddenly I didn’t mind if Ira King touched me or teased me or gave me advice on my game, unsolicited or otherwise.
Hanging my head, I answered with a shake. “I think I’m starting to hate when you’re right.”
I couldhearthe smile in his voice as he said, “There we go. Let’s give it a try.”
On his feet before me, he reached a big hand down to help me to mine.
Easy, Six.He’d said that very first day as he caught my hand and my fall in the lobby.Season’s just starting.
He’d known. Back then, before we even talked for the first time, he’d known our schedule. Known my number. It got me thinking.
“Hey,” I said as I grabbed onto his hand. “Four years ago against Miami, what did you think when you saw me play?”
“I thought I said?—”
“I’m not fishing for compliments,” I added quickly. Looking him straight in the eye I couldn’t keep the sincerity out of my voice as I admitted, “I just want to know.”
