Long Shot (2 page)

“Good luck.”

“Thanks, I'll see at home later on,” I said.

I watched as she turned and disappeared out the door of the building. Kia and I started in the opposite direction, weaving our way through the
crowd of people. There were lots of parents — either waiting for the younger kids trying out in the gym right now — or standing with their kids who were going to go in with us. I recognized a lot of the kids. Some went to our school, or lived in the neighborhood, or played for other schools' teams, and a few I even knew from other try-outs, try-outs where they didn't make the team.

“Hey, look, there are the guys!” Kia said.

Up ahead were four of our teammates from last year. Even if I hadn't noticed their faces, I couldn't help but see what they were wearing. Jamie, D.J., Jordan, and Mark all had on their orange and white Magic shorts — the ones that our rep team wore last year. Of course Kia and I were also wearing ours. They were probably the ugliest looking shorts in the entire world … and I was so proud of them.

The four guys were standing by the far doors leading into the gym. They had one of the doors partially opened and they were peeking in.

“I'm going to go and say hello,” Kia said.

“Sure … I'll see you inside.”

Kia walked away. She knew that I wanted to be by myself anyway. She joined up with the guys and I watched as they started to laugh and joke around.

I never understood how people could be so relaxed when there was something as serious as
basketball about to begin. It was time for me to get on both my shoes and my ‘game face.'

I walked over to the side and slumped down against a wall, taking a seat on the floor. Slowly I opened up my bag and pulled out my basketball shoes — my new basketball shoes.

It was almost like a tradition in my family. Every fall I got a brand new pair of basketball shoes. They were just for practices and games. After the last game of the season they became my everyday shoes until they were worn down to nothing.

I pulled off my old shoes — last year's new shoes. I pulled my socks up, nice and tight. I didn't want any folds or creases. I slipped on one of the new ones, tightening the laces. I repeated the process with the second foot.

“Hello, Nick.”

“Coach!” I exclaimed.

I got up to my feet and we shook hands.

“How have you been keeping yourself?” he asked.

“I'm fine … and you?”

“Never better. You looking forward to another season?” he asked.

“Yeah … sure … if I make the team,” I said, fishing for some confirmation that I didn't have anything to worry about.

“Competition's going to be tough.”

Those weren't exactly the words of encouragement I'd been looking for.

“Are
you
looking forward to another season?” I asked.

“Maybe more than any season I've ever had before,” he said with a big smile.

“You are?”

“Most definitely.”

He looked at his watch. “It's about time. Let's get inside where I can talk to everybody at once.”

I followed after Coach Riley. He nodded to people as they offered their hands, or slapped him on the back, and said hello. Everybody knew and liked Coach.

We entered the gym just as the previous group of boys were gathering up their bags and water bottles and starting out to join their parents in the lobby.

At the far end I saw a dozen kids sitting on the gym floor at the feet of the coach in charge of that age group. I was positive I knew exactly what was going on. Those were kids who were being told that they weren't welcome to come back to the next try-out — they'd already been cut.

I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. It was like watching a car accident at the side of the road. I really shouldn't look over but something made it impossible not to look.

The coach said a few more words to them that I couldn't hear. Then they all got up and I could tell by the expressions on their faces that I was
probably right. Some of them looked angry, a couple confused, and one looked like he was going to start to cry. As they got close, I looked away. They deserved at least that much.

Probably the only thing worse than watching people have to go through that would have been going through it myself. So far every year I'd tried out I'd made the team … would this year be different and, if it was, how would I react? I'd hate to cry in front of people.

A shrill whistle echoed through the gym and I looked over to where Coach Riley stood, in the middle of the floor. Kids started to slowly filter toward the center of the gym. I sprinted over full speed.

“Come on, bring it in!” yelled Coach and people started to move quickly.

I was already right by his side. So was Kia, and the rest of the guys from last year's team. I wasn't the only person who knew how much Coach hated people dawdling — ‘wasting my valuable time' — he called it.

“And hold the balls!” he bellowed.

My ball was already tucked under my arm. I also knew how he felt about people bouncing a ball after he blew the whistle.

Maybe things like that were little but they were important things to know. Maybe they gave those of us who knew the Coach a little bit of an advantage.

“Good afternoon, it's good to see so many familiar faces,” Coach started to say. “As well as so many new ones.”

I looked around. I recognized a lot of people — all my old teammates — but there were a whole lot I didn't know … kids who looked older, or at least bigger, than I was.

“I want to start off with a couple of announcements before we go any further.”

He probably wanted to tell us about the way the try-outs would be run, and, how no matter whether we made it or not, we were still—

“You all know that I have a great love for the game of basketball,” Coach said.

Nobody could argue with that.

“And I believe we have the potential to have a fantastic team for this coming year.” He paused. “Maybe even better than the wonderful team I had the honor of coaching last year.”

He paused and looked right at where Kia and I and a few of the other guys stood and he gave us a smile. That made me feel better about how things were going to go. We were a good team — a very good team — and we were good players. I was a good player.

“So it's with regret that I am announcing that I will not be your coach for the coming year.”

“What?” I gasped. “What did you say?”

“I'm not going to coach the team.”

“Quit joking around, Coach,” Kia said.

“I'm not joking, Kia. I won't be your coach this year.”

“Why not … why won't you be the coach?” I asked, my voice hardly a whisper.

“Because it will be hard to coach when I'm hundreds or even thousands of miles away from here.”

“How … why?” somebody asked.

“The how will be in my motor home. The why is because my wife has retired, and she and I are now free to pursue our love of travelling.” He paused and looked at his watch. “Starting in about fifteen minutes.”

“You're leaving today?” Kia asked.

“My wife is waiting in our vehicle. We'll be a
hundred miles south of here before your first try-out is even finished.”

“But we have to have a coach,” I said.

“Who will coach the team?” Kia asked.

“That's all been taken care of, Kia. I'd like to introduce you … all of you, to the new coach.”

A man who was about the age of my father had been standing off to one side. He now stepped up beside Coach. He wore track pants, a T-shirt, and had a whistle around his neck. He certainly looked like a coach. He also looked familiar. I didn't know where, but I thought I'd seen him before … but where?

“Players and parents, I'd like to introduce Mr. Len Barkley.”

That name sounded familiar as well.

The man — Mr. Barkley — gave a little wave.

“I've known Len a long time. We first met twenty-one years ago when he was in grade nine and tried out for the senior basketball team. I told him that he was more than welcome to try out for the team but that he would be better served to go to the junior team try-outs.” Coach paused. “He didn't listen. He not only tried out, but made that team and became a starter. Len was a starter for four straight years and in his senior year we were fortunate to have him lead us to the championship.”

“I was the fortunate one,” Mr. Barkley said.
“Fortunate to have had Coach Riley be there to teach me about basketball.”

“And,” Coach continued, “Len went on to play university ball on a full scholarship for four years and led his team to three league titles.”

“I was injured and missed the last half of my senior year or it would have been
four
titles in
four
seasons,” Mr. Barkley said.

Coach laughed. “Len has never been accused of lacking confidence.” He paused. “He was a great player and one of the most knowledgeable basketball minds around. This man knows the game.”

“I've learned from the best,” the new coach said.

“He's only recently moved back to our city. He spent most of his adult life elsewhere, having established a very successful business in the city where he played for parts of two seasons with the —”

“That's more than enough about me,” Mr. Barkley said, cutting him off. “Instead I'd like us all to take a minute to say thank you to a special man for all that he's done for the kids and students of this community. Can we all give Coach Riley the big round of applause that he so richly deserves?”

Mr. Barkley started to clap his hands and everybody in the gym joined in and began to clap and cheer. Coach shyly smiled and looked down at his feet as the clapping got louder and louder and louder. Finally he raised his hands and tried to quiet the crowd.

“Thank you! Thank you all!” he called out and we stopped clapping. “I'm going to miss you all … very much … very much,” he said, choking over the last few words.

“I think he's going to cry,” Kia whispered.

I was going to say something, but I wasn't completely sure that I wasn't going to cry too.

“I've taken enough of your time here today. I've got places to go and you've got basketball to play.”

All of a sudden people began to clap and cheer again. Coach came over and started to shake the hands of each of the players from last year. He reached Kia and gave her a hug as well as shaking her hand. I was next.

“I wish you all the best, Nick,” he said.

“And you too, Coach … and thanks for everything.”

He smiled. “It was a pleasure to coach such a fine young man. You take care of yourself. And Nick … play hard.”

He shook hands with the rest of the players and then started to slip off to the side. Slowly he moved through the crowd, shaking hands and saying goodbye. I watched until he reached the door and then disappeared.

I couldn't help but think how much I was going to miss having him around and—

A loud shrill whistle blast brought me back to
the present. All eyes in the gym focused on Mr. Barkley.

“This is a closed try-out!” he yelled. “All those who aren't trying out for the team are to leave the gym! And that includes all — I repeat
all
— parents! Your kids will meet you outside the doors at three o'clock!”

Wow I liked that! I hated parents, my own or anybody else's, gawking and staring and comparing me and every other kid in the gym to their kid. It felt like you were a science experiment and everything you did was under some sort of microscope.

Slowly people started to move toward the door of the gym.

“And everybody who's not leaving should start running!” he yelled. “Five laps … half speed … then five laps full speed. Let's do it!”

I fell into line along with Kia and everybody else and we started to jog around the outside of the gym.