Underdog (8 page)

“Now that you've given half the answer, could you continue by giving me the rest of the answer to my question?” Coach asked.

Everybody stopped cheering.

“The rest of the answer?” I asked. I didn't have any more answer to give.

“Yes. You told me what I did, but you didn't explain to me why I did it.”

“To make us look stupid,” Tristan said.

“Some of you can do that without my help,” Coach said. “Well, Nick?”

I didn't answer. What was the rest of the reason?

“Anybody else?” Coach asked. “To avoid wind sprints you need the whole answer.”

I took a deep breath. I hoped the extra oxygen would get my brain working.

“You did it,” Kia said, “because nobody is passing the ball enough.”

“Thank you, Kia!” Coach said. “That is the last half of the answer. You and Nick seem to be able to complete each other's thoughts. Now I have one more question.”

Oh, great. Was he going to keep asking us questions until we couldn't answer one and then we'd start the wind sprints? On the plus side, with each passing question we got closer to the end of the practice, which meant if we did finally have to do
the sprints, we wouldn't have to do as many.

“Give me some other names for basketball,” Coach said.

“Other names?” L.B. asked.

“Yeah, what other names does basketball go by?”

“Hoops,” Tristan said. “Lots of people call it hoops.”

“Yep, that's what I call it,” Coach agreed.

“Round ball,” Jamie said, “although I thought all balls were round.”

“B-ball,” Jordan added.

“Definitely,” Coach agreed. “Any others?”

People shook their heads. I couldn't think of any other names.

“How about me-ball?” Coach asked.

“Me-ball?” a bunch of us questioned.

“Never,” Tristan said.

“That doesn't even make sense,” Kia said.

“You're right, it doesn't make sense,” Coach agreed. “But that's the way you people have been playing the game so far. I see a whole lot of ‘me' and not enough ‘team.' If we don't start working the ball around, passing,
acting like a team, we're not going anywhere. Now I'm going to divide you into two teams for a scrimmage. What I want to see is b-ball, not me-ball.”

“Look for the open man!” Coach yelled.

Ashton reversed his dribble away from the double coverage but didn't look for anybody, open or covered. I broke for the net, hands in the air, practically “yelling” for the pass. He put up a shot. It hit off the front of the rim and bounced away. Jamie got the rebound. He was playing point guard for the other side. They all were wearing bright yellow pinnies to mark their team. He came up court and drove for the net. The opening closed and he backed out.

“Pass the ball!” Coach bellowed. “Find the open man.”

Jamie tried to make a pass, but by the time the ball arrived, Ashton was already there for the steal. Mark raced down the court. He was way ahead of everybody. All Ashton had to do was lob the ball to him and it was a guaranteed basket and—Ashton slowed
down the play and kept dribbling. He hadn't seen Mark.

“Substitution,” Coach called and a shudder went up my spine. I knew exactly what was going to happen. He was going to take Ashton off and then Ashton was going to get angry and—

“Nick, come on off!” Coach yelled.

I trotted over to the bench. That certainly wasn't what I'd expected. This was probably the first time in my whole life I was happy to be taken off. I sat down and then realized that I'd come off but nobody else had gone on. My team was now playing with only four players!

I jumped up. “Coach, you didn't put anybody else on for me,” I said.

“I know, Nick,” he said. “Kia!” Coach yelled out. He motioned for her to come over. “Take a seat.”

“But, but—”

“Sit down,” he ordered.

She stepped off the court and stood beside me. We now had only three players out there. What was he doing? Ashton kept dribbling
the ball. I didn't even know if he'd noticed we weren't there.

“Jordan, Mark!” Coach called out. He motioned for them to come over to the bench. They looked confused, but both came trotting over. “Sit,” he said, pointing to the bench.

Ashton was now out on the court by himself facing the five opposing players.

“Where is everybody?” Ashton yelled. He'd finally noticed he was by himself.

“Keep playing!” Coach hollered back.

Ashton shrugged but kept on dribbling.

“Press the ball carrier!” Coach yelled. Three men rushed forward and surrounded Ashton. He tried to dribble through and almost made it when the ball was knocked free. He stood there while two players raced up the court and put up a lay-up.

“Keep playing!” Coach said.

“But I'm by myself!” Ashton yelled. “How can I throw it in if it's just me?”

“Figure it out.”

Ashton walked to the baseline and took the ball. L.B. was standing right in front of him,
guarding him. Ashton bounced the ball off his leg and then jumped in and grabbed it.

“Press! Press! Full court press!” Coach yelled.

Suddenly Ashton was surrounded by four players. He tried to dribble by them, but there were just too many and he had no place to go. They froze him in place and he lost his dribble.

“Time violation!” Coach yelled. “You took too long to bring the ball over half. That's a turnover!”

Ashton slammed the ball on the floor and it bounced high into the air.

“And that would be a technical,” Coach said. “Everybody, bring it in and let's talk.”

We all surrounded Coach as he stood there with one foot on the bench.

“Some of you are figuring it out,” he began. “And some of you are not. This is a team game. You win or lose by using the players on the court. Why did I pull the other players off the court and leave Ashton on by himself?”

I knew the answer. I figured everybody
knew the answer, but nobody was going to say anything.

“Because you wanted me to look stupid!” Ashton snapped.

“No. Although I hope you did feel stupid out there,” he replied. “Somebody tell me why I did that.”

“Because Ashton wasn't using his team-mates,” Tristan finally said.

“That's right. If you're not going to pass to anybody, there's no point in them even being out there. That's it for today. Practice is over. See you all on Tuesday.”

It was one very quiet car ride home. My mother tried to get a conversation started a couple of times, but Kia and I just sat there. Ashton hadn't even said hello when he jumped into the backseat, and he hadn't said a word since then. Actually he hadn't said a word since practice ended. He just looked angry as he stared at the back of the seat in front of him.

It was hard to be centered out like that, but I knew that Coach wasn't doing it to be mean. He had talked to everybody and then he'd talked to Ashton by himself about needing to share the ball, but talking hadn't changed the way Ashton was playing. He had to do something.

Besides, it wasn't like he hadn't centered me out before. He'd done that to everybody. Maybe to his son more than anybody else on the team. But I knew that Ashton didn't want to hear that right now. He probably couldn't hear it right now, even if I told him. Sometimes the smartest thing you can do is to just shut up. I was doing that now.

“You three are awfully quiet,” my mother said, trying once again to break the silence.

“We're tired,” I said. I didn't want the silence broken.

“It must have been an incredibly hard practice to make you so tired that your tongues can't flap. Are Kia and Ashton coming over for a snack or am I dropping them off at home?”

“I'd like a snack,” Kia said.

“Ashton, are you coming? There's a possibility I just might make some muffins.”

“I've got to get home,” he said. He didn't even look up.

“Maybe tomorrow. Are you three going to be selling almonds tomorrow?” she asked.

“We were thinking about— ”

“Not tomorrow,” Ashton said, cutting Kia off.

“We aren't?” she asked. “I thought we had agreed we were going to—”

“Something came up,” he said, cutting her off again.

“What came up that's so impor—”

“I'm sure it is important,” I said, cutting Kia off for the third time. Just let the guy sit. Getting him talking now might lead him to say something he'd regret—something he'd have trouble backing down from.

“Is anybody going to let me finish a sentence?” she demanded.

“You just did,” I said. “If Ashton doesn't want to sell almonds tomorrow, we'll do it later. We're down to the last thirty boxes. We can do that easy before next weekend.”

Everybody reverted back to not talking. That was okay. I knew Ashton didn't need to be pushed right now. He was hurting and he had the right to feel hurt. I'd wait until later to talk to him. I'd give him a phone call tonight. Although I wasn't exactly sure what it was that I was going to say when I did call him.
The phone kept ringing—four…five…and there was still no answer. I guessed nobody was home. Maybe that was better anyway because I still hadn't figured out what I was going to say.

There was a “click” and an answering machine came to life.

“We're not home,” said a woman's voice. “At the beep please leave a message and we'll get back to you as soon as possible.”

I hated leaving messages.

“Beep!”

I hesitated for a split second. Maybe I should just hang up. No, I better say something. “Um…hello…um…this is…um…Nick and—”

“Hey, Nick.” It was Ashton.

“Hi. I didn't think anybody was in,” I said.

“I'm home. I always listen for the machine. If it's not for me I just leave it. That way I don't have to take messages.”

“That's smart.”

“And safe. You don't have any big brothers, so you can't imagine how mad they get if you forget to tell them that some girl called.”

“I know I get annoyed when somebody doesn't tell me that Kia called.”

“This is a little more serious. These aren't girls who are friends but girlfriends. The worst, about two years ago, was when some girl called and asked for one of my brothers and I said he wasn't home because he was out on a date with his girlfriend.”

“What's so bad about that?” I asked.

“What I didn't know was that he was out on a date with
one
of his girlfriends, and I was talking to another one who didn't know about the first.”

I burst out laughing.

“Glad you think it's funny,” he said. “My brother, my much bigger brother, didn't think it was funny at all. Speaking of funny, the message you started to leave was pretty funny.”

“What was so funny about it?”

“Yeah, it sounded like you didn't remember your own name. ‘Um…this is…this is…um… Nick.' ”

“I don't like talking to machines,” I explained. “So how you doing?”

“I'm doing just fine. Now.”

“I thought you might need some time,” I said.

“All I needed was time to make the right decision.”

“Decision, what decision?” I asked. I didn't want him to make any decision.

“I'm quitting the team.”

“You can't quit!” I exclaimed.

“Sure I can. Already decided. I'm not going back again.”

“But you can't do that. You're a great player and the team needs you.”

“Didn't you hear? The team doesn't need me because I'm not even part of the team.”

“Of course you're part of the team!”

“No, I play me-ball not b-ball.”

“He wasn't just saying that about you. Nobody was passing the ball.”

“It doesn't matter. Haven't you figured it out? That coach wants me to quit. He doesn't want me on the team.”

“Yes he does. If he didn't want you on the team, he wouldn't have picked you in the first place,” I tried to explain.

“No, it's better for him if he picks me and then I quit. Then he can say it's my fault instead of the real reason,” Ashton said.

“What do you mean, the real reason?” I asked.

“He's a racist.”

“A racist! How can you say that?”

“Because he is. He's against me because I'm black.”

“That's crazy!”

“Are you calling me crazy?” Ashton demanded.

“No, of course not. It's just that I know he isn't.”

“Why else would he be so hard on me?” Ashton asked.

“He's hard on everybody. Last year at the start of the season he did some things to me that—”

“Did he ever leave you on the court all by yourself?” Ashton asked, cutting me off.

“No, but he did other things.”

“He did that to me because he's a racist.”

“But it's not like you're the only black kid on the team. More than half the guys are black, and none of them think he's racist.”

“Have you ever asked them?” Ashton asked.

“No. Have you?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should talk to them. Ask them what they think, because I already know the answer. The only color that matters to Coach is the color of your uniform. If you're wearing orange you're family. Couldn't you just stay with the team a little bit longer? Give it a chance. We're getting our new uniforms next week.” I thought if I could get him to hang around a bit longer he might decide not to quit the team. “You've almost raised all the money. At least if you walked away then you'd have the uniform.”

“If I walked away, do you think I'd even want one of the uniforms? They are probably the ugliest uniforms in the world!”

“They're not that bad.”