Page 5 of On Merit Alone
The only reason I agreed to come out with Neil in the first place was because I knew my sister Iris could use a break from the baby, and I could use a break from the unusually long season that was currently still underway.
I would never wish a loss on the team. Not on myself either. I was too damn competitive and had come too damn far for that shit. But I’m not going to lie, there was a time during this last seven game stretch when I thought we weren’t going to make it out on the winning side. And oddly, I had been the tiniest bit at peace with it. Even though we were playing well, I still thought about how nice it would be to finally get a break.
Only, a break now would mean a loss, and I hated that shit.
And that’s where my competitiveness came in. Always there. When I was tired, when I was hurting, when I was up, or when I was down. The desire to win was always there, and it wouldn’t let me give up now. Just like it wouldn’t let me give up four years ago when my knee gave out on me so hard, everyone was convinced it was the end of my career. I couldn’t give up, even though this bone-deep fatigue was starting to settle into more than just my overworked muscles but my mind, too.
That competitiveness, the need to be the best at the best level for as long as my body would allow, had always been the driving force of my career. But lately, even that hadn’t been enough to stop the nagging feeling that there was something else, or rather, somethingnewout there for me. And maybe it was finally time that I started needing something different.
Staring at my little nephew, who was alternating between chewing his hand and leaning forward to chew on my nose, I tried to convince myself to liven up for him at least. But true to form, I was so dog tired as this grueling season neared its end, I was surprised I was even keeping my eyes open.
“Yoo-hoo? You in there, superstar?” Neil asked, snagging the baby and my attention at the same time. Motioning to his face, he said, “You’ve got some drool here.”
“Where?”
He continued moving his hand all over his face. “Here.”
I narrowed my eyes. “So my whole face?”
“I’m not the one who let the baby teethe on me.” He shrugged. Then, popping a bottle out of the little purse bag on the chair between us, he situated Mads in his arms so he could feed him. “Anyway, how you feeling, man?”
“Tired,” I admitted. Leaning back in my seat, I tried not to depress into the uncomfortable chair like it was a plush loveseat. I could probably melt into a chair made of concrete right now, I was that wiped. Going from back-to-back seven-game stretches to another one in a couple of days could do that to a guy. But Neildidhave a six-month-old. I peeked an eye up at the new dad. He must have it hard, too. “You?”
“Tired,” he agreed with a sigh. With beaming eyes, he gazed down at his son as if he were his own personal miracle, and I could just tell that it was the good kind of tired. Mine was too, but…
But?
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with the direction of my thoughts lately. Even though this was the best season the Defenders had had in quite a long time, it somehow felt taxing in a way basketball never has before. I was suddenly the employee punching out right when the clock struck time to leave. The guy who left at five on the dot just to speed home to nothing. I had never been that guy.
Life was feeling almost half-lived all of a sudden. It was almostlike I’d been invited to a party but only allowed to watch from the other side of a glass.
For as long as I could remember basketball had always been my dream. From the day my dad brought me and my brother to the court to watch our older sister play to the day I made my very first basket, I knew I wanted to be a professional basketball player. Not just a player, but a good one. And I had lived every day in the pursuit of that dream.
So, what were these restless feelings plaguing me recently? And why were they getting stronger every time I was around the people I loved most?
“Think you guys have a chance against the Dunes?” he asked, referring to our next-round matchup against San Francisco.
“I know we do.” I nodded, leaning forward on my forearms. “As long as we can hang in there and not gas out, I think we have a chance to go all the way.”
“Really?” He whistled, and I could tell by the way he smiled he was impressed. “Takes a lot for you to gas yourself up like that. You must really be confident this time.”
“I am,” I said, glancing up at the screen behind the tall bar. “I have a feeling about this team, you know? It’s been hard, but something about it has me believing.”
He eyed me for a second, then he leaned in too. “Ever think that something might be you?”
I dismissed him, blowing out air and shaking my head. Sure, I was good. I knew I was good, but it took much more than one man to make a team. I told Neil as much.
He just shrugged. “I’m just saying. You guys have been on fire ever since you came back. Every year you get closer and closer to the big one.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, some people are just the glue,” he said, letting his eyes trail up to the TV too. He watched in silence for a second before shakinghis head. “And some lose their stick after a while. Are you seeing the Dynamite lately?”
I winced, sucking my teeth in a hiss.
He was talking about the Denver Dynamite, our women’s team. In short, they were doing terribly. They had been ever since their star player got hurt in the same way I did exactly one season ago. Now that she was back, I know they hoped to be doing much better. But even with number six back on the court, they were slow to gain any momentum in the first games of the season.
Neil cut a knowing look my way. “Doesn’t look good, huh?”
