Page 89 of The Assist
We winour game in Oregon, which has everyone in good spirits on the way back. It’s a long ass flight and then an hour bus ride to get back to Valley, and every minute feels like torture. I don’t know where to sit on the bus. Ridiculous as it sounds, everything has changed, and I’m no longer one of them. If I were an injured sophomore or even junior, it’d be different, but I’m never gonna be a real member of this team again.
I settle next to Z, but his silence only makes my nervous energy feel more pronounced. The tension I usually release on the floor has built up, and I can’t sit still. Shaw sits across the aisle and catches my eye. “You all right? Foot bothering you?”
“What?” It takes a second for his attempt at polite conversation to register. “Nah, just feel restless.”
He nods as if he could possibly understand. “Look, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I’m really sorry about the way things went down. You were a good player. The guys really respect and look to you. It’s tough shoes to fill. I just want you to know I don’t take the job lightly.”
I resist an eye roll but can’t stop the disbelieving grunt that escapes.
“What is your problem with me, anyway? You’ve been on my ass since I arrived at Valley, so I know it isn’t just that I’ve taken your spot.”
Count to five and consider keeping my mouth shut. The consideration is rejected. “I don’t like that you’re dividing your time. Pick a sport. Coaches might be okay with it, but no one else is. It’s damn risky, and it makes both teams feel like you aren’t giving one hundred percent.”
“That’s such bullshit,” he says and shakes his head. “I work my ass off to be a part of both teams. Twice as many practices, double the coaches and training routines.”
“Why do that to yourself? Just pick one and give it your all. Save yourself and all of us a lot of heartache when you get burned out or injured.”
“You just don’t get it. I can’t pick between the two of them like it’s a choice of pizza or tacos. I love basketball. I love the sound of shoes squeaking on the floor and the echo of the ball in an empty gym. But I love baseball too.”
“Yeah, sure. I loved football once upon a time, but I made the decision to put everything into one sport.” Most of us played other sports as kids, but at one point or another we gave the others up and made basketball the primary focus.
“You didn’t love football as much as basketball.” He is adamant, and that pisses me off.
“Excuse me?”
“You couldn’t have. There’s no way I could pick between basketball and baseball. Come on, you know what it’s like to love two things so much you can’t give either up. How is my loving two sports different from you playing ball and having a girlfriend?”
“You’re really comparing your situation to my dating life?”
His head bobbles like he’s waiting for me to figure out the connection.
“It isn’t the same,” I finally say.
“Sure it is. You split your time between the two. They both consume your thoughts. Your main objective for both is to score.”
I roll my eyes at his lame attempt at humor. “That is the weakest analogy I’ve ever heard, rook. We’re done here.”
I stand and move to the front next to Joel. He looks me over and nods appreciatively. “Nice work today. You have a knack for keeping Shaw and the bench ready to go. And you look damn good doing it. Getting laid agrees with you.”
“Jesus H Christ,” I mutter and stand again. The only other available seat is next to Coach.
He takes off his glasses and looks me over as if I’ve personally offended him by invading his bubble. “The guys are in rare form after that win.”
“It was a good game. Shaw is finally finding his rhythm. Thanks to you.”
“Please don’t thank me.” I scrub a hand along my jaw and around my neck. “I resent every second of it.”
He laughs. “You won’t after a while.”
I narrow my eyes as if that’ll help me understand him better.
“I wasn’t always a coach,” he says
“Yeah, I know,” I say. “Baylor, player of the year in 1999.”
“That’s right.” He nods with a proud look on his face, and I see a bit of that cocky player he had to have been back then. Z and I looked up old clips once; Coach was a beast. “I played all four seasons. Four great seasons. Still hurts just the same no matter when you have to give it up.”
“Why’d you become a coach if you resent not playing anymore?”
