Underdog (11 page)

“What are you doing?” Ashton demanded.

“Not letting you walk away.” He dropped Ashton back to the ground. “Now explain to me why you're not playing for that team.”

Ashton stuck out his jaw and puffed out his chest. He had a look that said “Just try to make me talk.”

“First it was because of the money,” I said, jumping in.

“What money?” Jamal asked.

“The registration fees to play rep ball,” I explained.

“How much is it?” Jamal asked.

“Registration is three hundred and fifty dollars,” Kia said.

“Three hundred and fifty dollars! That's a lot of money, but maybe I can help pay for it.”

“I can't take your money,” Ashton said. “You've got a wife and a house and kids on the way. You gotta take care of your family.”

“And who do you think you are if you're not my family?”

“But that's all taken care of anyway,” I said.

“It is?” Jamal asked.

“All except the last thirty-three dollars.”

“Where did you get the rest of the money?” Jamal asked. “The three hundred and seventeen dollars.”

“Selling chocolate-covered almonds,” Ashton said.

“Like these,” I said, holding up the box. “Every box sold is one dollar toward the registration fee.”

“So you sold three hundred and seventeen boxes of almonds?” Jamal asked.

Ashton nodded. “Me and Nick and Kia. They helped me.”

“You two helped him sell all those almonds?” Jamal asked.

“It wasn't hard,” Kia said. “It only took us three nights…plus a day.”

“And now we just have to sell the boxes that are in this carton—thirty-three more— and the whole registration is paid for.”

“Tell you what. I love chocolate-covered almonds. I'll buy the last thirty-three boxes,” Jamal said.

“No you won't!” Ashton protested.

“Yes, I will,” Jamal said. “And I don't see how you can stop me.”

“Fine, go ahead and buy them. I'm still not going to play.”

“Why not?” Jamal asked.

“Because I don't want to.”

“You don't want to play basketball?” Jamal asked like he couldn't believe his ears.

“I don't want to play basketball with them.”

“With Kia and Nick?”

“No, with the rep team.”

“But you said Kia and Nick are on the rep team,” Jamal said.

“Yeah, but it's not them I don't want to play with.”

“There are other kids on the team who you don't want to play with?”

“No, the other kids are okay.”

“Then who exactly is it that you don't want to play with?”

“I don't want to play with that coach.”

“What's wrong with the coach?” Jamal asked.

“He treats me bad because I'm black.”

“He does what?” Jamal asked, suddenly looking very serious.

“He's a racist.”

“That's not true!” Kia exclaimed.

“Are you saying he doesn't treat me bad?” Ashton demanded.

“Not bad. Tough. He's tough on everybody.”

“Not as tough as he is on me,” Ashton said.

“Maybe that's because he doesn't need to be as tough on everybody else as he is on you because everybody else actually listens to what he says!” Kia snapped.

“I listen,” Ashton said.

“Well, maybe you should do more than listen and actually do what he tells you!” she scolded him.

“I don't need to hear this!”

Ashton started to walk away once more and again his brother stopped him. “Stay,” he said. “Wait and listen.”

Jamal looked at Kia and then at me. “What my brother is saying, if it's true, is very serious. Racism is a terrible thing.”

“But he's not a racist!” I said.

“Maybe he isn't. Maybe he is. Why do you think my brother is wrong about your coach?” Jamal asked.

“Well, for one thing, half the kids on the team are black,” I said.

“Yeah, so what? Maybe he treats them badly too.”

“He treats everybody the same. Everybody. Black or white.”

“He's not harder on my brother than the other kids?” Jamal asked.

“Well…he is pretty tough on Ashton,” I admitted.

“Tougher than on he is on the other kids— white and black?”

“Maybe harder than everybody else.”

“And is it like Kia suggested, because my baby brother doesn't listen?” Jamal asked.

“That and because of what he thinks of Ashton.”

“What does he think?” Jamal asked.

“Yeah, I'd like to know that too,” Ashton said.

I was in a bind. I'd brought the subject up in the first place, but could I really say what Coach had said to me? Would that be like blabbing? But then, what choice did I have now?

“Coach said he's been hard on Ashton because he thinks he has such potential. He thinks he could play at college.”

“He said that?” Ashton asked.

I nodded. “He also said to me that he tried to call you because he thought he had been too rough on you and he wanted to apologize.”

“Is that why he called?” Ashton asked.

“He said he left two messages on your machine and you didn't return his calls.”

“Actually he left four messages. Two yesterday and two today. Wow, just think… he thinks I could play at college, like my brother.”

“You played college ball?” Kia asked Jamal.

“Four years. Got an education from playing ball. Met my wife there.”

“That's fantastic,” I said.

“Of course, I always figured I'd be playing college ball on my way to playing professional ball. That just didn't work out…not that I'm unhappy about how things did work out.”

“Who knows, maybe I could be the one in the family to make it to the NBA,” Ashton said.

“Don't get all caught up in that,” Jamal said. “You're good, but just because some coach thinks you can play college doesn't make it true. And just because you can play at college doesn't mean you can make the next step. This coach might not even know what he's talking about.”

“But Coach would know,” I said. “He really knows what he's talking about. He used to play at college. He even played for a couple of seasons in the NBA.”

“He played in the NBA?” Jamal asked. He sounded surprised and impressed. “What's this guy's name?”

“It's Barkley,” Ashton said.

“Len Barkley?” Jamal asked.

“I don't know what his first name is,” Ashton said.

“It is Len,” I confirmed. “Do you know him?”

“Of course I know him. My college coach used to be a teammate of Len Barkley when they played in college. He told us that he was one of the best college players of all time,” Jamal said. “We didn't believe him until he brought us in footage. That guy could really play ball.” Jamal turned to Ashton. “Didn't you know who your coach is?”

“I just thought he was some old guy with a bad leg,” Ashton said.

“He's some old guy who was a great player,” Jamal said.

“And he's a very, very good coach,” I said. “We've improved a lot since he started coaching us. He really knows basketball.”

“Do you think he knows basketball?” Jamal asked Ashton.

“I guess he knows something about basketball,” he admitted.

“He knows lots about basketball,” I said. “And he's already taught you a lot.”

“He hasn't taught me anything,” Ashton protested.

“He hasn't? Weren't you listening to what you were saying to your brother during the game?”

“You think he taught me how to insult my brother?” Ashton asked.

“Not insult, but the things you were yelling. Things about passing the ball and outside shooting and being a team player instead of just styling. Aren't those the same things Coach is always riding you about?”

Ashton didn't answer.

“You know, little brother, it's very rare to play for a coach who can help you become a better player. Believe me, I know. And it sounds like this guy could make you a better player. Somebody who could get you to college, where you could play some ball. Somebody who could help you go even farther…who knows?”

Ashton still didn't answer. I'd learned that meant he probably agreed but didn't know how to say it.

“Ashton, you can't waste an opportunity like this,” Jamal said. “We both know you want to play ball. We both know you're a good
player. And we all know you need somebody to ride you to be the most you can be. I would have given anything to have a coach like that when I was your age. Heck, I bet there's lots of things I could learn from him now that would make me a better coach myself.”

“Coach?” I asked. “You want to coach?”

“I've volunteered to coach the senior team, the grade eight boys, at our school,” he said. “And I've played a lot of ball, but I never coached anybody.”

Kia and I exchanged a look. We both knew we were thinking exactly the same thing.

“You know, we're looking for an assistant coach on our team,” I said.

“Me?” Jamal asked. “I don't know if I have the time to do that.”

“You could always just come to one of the practices and watch and maybe talk to Coach Barkley,” I suggested.

“Maybe you could come to this Tuesday's practice,” Kia added. “It's from six-thirty to eight.”

“I guess I could just come out and watch,” he said.

“Maybe you could give Ashton a ride,” I suggested. “But if it's out of your way, I can pick him up.”

“Wait a second. Who even said I'm going?” Ashton protested.

“If I'm going, believe me, you're going!” Jamal exclaimed.

“Are you going?” Ashton asked.

“I'm going.”

Ashton looked at his brother. “How about you pick me up around six?”

Jamal smiled. “You got it, little brother, you got it.”

One of their players put up a long, desperate, three-point shot. They were so far down, with so little time left, that was all they could try to get back in the game.

The ball bounced off the rim and high into the air. As it started to drop down, Jordan leapt up and met it halfway. He came down with the ball and almost instantly passed it to Ashton. Kia, figuring that Jordan would get the rebound, had already taken off down the court. Her arms were up in the air, calling for the ball. All Ashton had to do was toss her a lob pass and she was free for an easy two points and—Ashton started dribbling,
head down, not seeing her. The other team got back down court and Kia was now covered by at least two people.

“Time out!” Coach Barkley yelled. “Full time-out!”

The ref blew his whistle and the play stopped. As the players started to come in off the floor and the rest of us got up off the bench, I already knew what was going to be said. Maybe everybody knew.

“Ashton, didn't you see Kia?” Coach Barkley asked.

“Kia?” Ashton asked. Apparently not everybody knew.

“As in, your teammate. The one who was alone, completely open, standing under their net, waving her arms in the air—that Kia.”

“If I had seen her, don't you think I would have passed?” Ashton asked.

“Now, that's an interesting question,” Jamal said as he loomed over his brother. He looked over at Coach Barkley. “How about if we put in a sub and the assistant coach has a little chat with Ashton?”

“Good idea. A good teachable moment to help him understand what happened out there,” Coach Barkley agreed.

Jamal had come out to that first practice— three weeks ago—and had been at every practice since then as our assistant coach. And if Ashton believed Coach Barkley had been riding him before, he must be starting to think that Jamal was his own personal jockey. Jamal was as hard on his brother as Coach was on L.B.—and that was saying a lot.

“Tristan go in for Ashton. D.J. go in for Kia,” Coach Barkley called out.

“Why am I coming out?” Kia questioned.

“Because I'm the coach,” Coach Barkley said. “Or do you want to discuss this at length? I'll even let you have the rest of the game on the bench to think about what you want to say.”

“No, sir, you're the coach…no problem. I'll just go right over there and sit down and make sure I stay really quiet,” she said and headed for the bench.

Jamal started to walk over toward Ashton. Neither looked particularly happy.

“Coach, Jamal,” Coach Barkley called out, and Jamal turned around to face him. “Be gentle…okay?”

“I'll be as gentle as I can,” he said.

The timekeeper signaled the end of the time-out. Tristan and D.J. ran over to the table to check in while the rest of us sat down. I took a seat beside Kia. I watched as the ball was put into play, but I wasn't nearly as interested in what was going to happen on the court as I was in what was going to take place behind our bench.

“This should be good,” Kia said under her breath.

I turned my head, ever so slightly, so I could see Jamal walk his brother over to the side. I knew we were close enough to hear, especially if the conversation went the way I figured it might.

“You have to start looking up court,” I overheard Jamal say.

“I look up the court.”

“Then why didn't you see Kia?”

“Maybe I did see her…sort of,” Ashton replied.

“I hope you didn't see her at all, because if you did see her open and still didn't pass, that makes you the worst kind of ball hog there is!”

Ashton didn't answer. I knew he hadn't seen Kia. His head was right down, watching his dribble, trying to avoid the other team's press.

“If you want to learn to play basketball, you have to learn to pass,” Jamal said.

“I know how to play basketball!” Ashton snapped. “If you check the score sheet, you'll notice I have fourteen points!”