“Hey, Milla, you’re out of taylor ham.”
“It’s in the freezer.”
“Okay.”
Every once and a while Milla thinks it’s a good idea to have the family over at ten in the morning for a family breakfast. It’s usually after she forgets who’s fighting with who. Sometimes it’s specifically because of the ongoing fights. I have the shortest drive to her house so I have the least excuse to show up and help out. I’m also her brother so she expects me to back her most of the time.
“So how’s the team coming along?”
“We won our last game.”
“Oh, congratulations, what’s your record?”
“One and five.”
“Well you only have five kids.”
“We have fifteen games left. The kids are starting to physically peak so I don’t have to work them so hard. Where’s the pork roll in here?”
“It’s those red boxes.”
“Boxes? You bought the cheap presliced?”
“It’s just as good. So how has the team got together?”
“Well, I told them all to go play with better teams on their own time. I told them to find a basketball and play pickup games at lunch. I told them that the best way to get in shape for games would be to be active besides practice.”
“He also told the faculty they were not to go near his kids.”
Hey Bill, you asshole.
“Hi, Bill, glad you could make it.”
“What did he do?”
“I defended a team member.”
“He knocked out the assistant wrestling coach with a left hook.”
“Ken! What do you have to say?”
“I still got my southpaw.”
“Ken!”
“Well, Bill, want to tell her why I knocked out the assistant coach? I thought I behaved pretty well considering that battle axe bitch Macquilitiny.”
“You hit Mrs. M.? She taught me. She was a teacher when the school opened up.”
“I didn’t hit her.”
“He broke a wood paddle over her head.”
“It was the wall, over her head. The wall over her head. Not her head, the wall.”
“You’re lucky she doesn’t sue.”
“You’re lucky Bernstein doesn’t sue.”
“Wait, where did you get a wood paddle from?”
“The assistant coach, took it from him after the left hook. It was self defense.”
“Why did the assistant coach have a paddle? And how does the player fit in to this?”
“Oh where is my wife and your sister? Sasha, dear…”
The pussy has left the room. Chicken shit, leave me holding the bag. Milla has this look in her eyes that’s half curiosity and half “I’m not going to like this.”
“I want the whole story.”
“I’m in my office. It’s before practice. Lisa, wearing a super girl tee shirt, runs in, frantic. Her and Atty were at their locker and Afro-”
“Who’s Afro?”
“Rover Bernstein. I call him Afro Blindgoggles. Don’t give me that look, it fits him. Well, they start shooting the shit. Talking trash, well, Afro asks what the S stands for. Lisa tells me this a mile a minute. I tell her to slow down, she tells me the old battle axe heard Afro say Super Slut to Lisa in answer to his question.”
“He called her a super slut?”
Ever hear ice water turn into words coming out of someone’s mouth. Milla does this on the arctic level.
“He was bullshitting with her. She called him a dickless wonder, he calls her super slut, you have to be there. Well, the teacher hears this, grabs him, grabs the wrestling coach, he grabs a paddle, and the assistant coach grabs a paddle and joins in and start smacking the shit out of his ass. Lisa grabs me and Atty is trying to get them to stop. I bust in there and Afro is hunched over. I exchange words…”
Like, I will have you killed, I will beat you to deah, and get the fuck away from my kid.
“The assistant coach cops an attitude. Steps forward with a paddle. I told him not to come near me twice. He steps in the pocket and boom.”
I try to avoid showing my excitement.
“Down goes the assistant coach. The coach sees this and realizes he doesn’t want this shit. I have words with the old bitch.”
I break the paddle on the wall. What the fuck? This isn’t the seventies. Schools get sued for this shit.
“Afterwards, I’m walking with Rover, I’m telling him he can sit out on practice. He starts laughing.”
“Really?”
“Well, I ask him about it. He said that he did the James Bond line.”
“Which one?”
“While his ass was getting pounded, he said, lower, lower, and to the left.”
“Why?”
“Because his balls had an itch.”
“That’s funny? Is your kid a psycho?”
“No,” I try to hold back the laughs, “He said that the whole school would know that the wrestling coaches scratched his balls for him.”
Milla looks at me odd. She’s definitely gonna be a fighter in the next life. She’s got the stare and the ready stance down pat. I used to get this feeling before a fight that I’m getting now.
“You were right. What was happening was wrong. But if you don’t start being a positive influence and stop fighting, I’ll cut your balls off. Now go inside while I cook breakfast.”

Okay, I have three hundred dollars of booze in the back of my car. I’m going to an abandoned autoshop next to an old collapsed barn. My words to the team echoes in my head.
“Kids, several of you have expressed a wish to be cool. I can’t buy you that. I can however give you all an opportunity to be cool.”
I gave them an address. I am leaving a box of booze at the address. Nobody is around for miles except a hospital is close and the fire house is just about as close. Plenty of room for a helicopter to land to pick up a really fat kid in a field just in case something goes wrong. I’m not giving anyone a ride. Whoever shows up and brings what they need to party, is what have you. There’s no electricity, so they have to be creative. There’s no indoor plumbing either. Hell, there’s no plumbing to begin with. Finishers ripped it all out. Pulling up, I see Evan and Henry.
“You idiot’s the only one’s here?”
“So far, Coach Figg.”
“Here’s the ground rules. I’m going to park my car in the trees with the doors unlocked. I am going to walk back to the bar. I’m going to stay there till last call. That’s four o’clock. I am going to walk back here. Drive my car home. If for whatever reason I can’t drive my car home in good conscience or for whatever technical reason, I’m going to call the cops.”
“So you’re not going to stay?”
“Oh hell no, I told the kids to find a way to make this a party. The prize was booze for Afro and a place to party for you, Henry.”

The clearing is cold as hell. I should have dressed warmer. Should have drank less. If I didn’t drink as much, my internal temp would be higher. So this damn wind wouldn’t be so cold.
“Let’s see what the idiots did.”
I didn’t hear music. The approach to the barn and the old autoshop was silent. Looking at the road, there were lots of tire tracks. So now I know a lot of people showed up. Hope the kids made out okay. I didn’t hear any first aid alarms or helicopters. No fire alarms either. But why do I smell smoke?
“Holy shit.”
The kids had a bonfire in the back. What the hell were they burning? They better not have used the barn. I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them and sick the cops on them.
“Make me run to see what’s going, fucking kill the fuckers.”
The barn is still in one piece. Behind the autoshop, there was a paved parking lot, or what was left of it. I guess the fire won’t spread on that shit. Not near an oil tank. Don’t think they ever pumped gas here so I think it’s safe.
“Fucking idiots.”
What’s really creeping me out right now is that there is nobody around. It’s like all those slasher movies where the killer does in all the fornicating teens and then pops out to kill the idiot that checked up on the kids.
“Yo, Fatty, Afro, you here? Lisa, Evan, Atty?”
“Hey, keep it down out there.” A voice comes from the barn.
I check inside and find a pile of beer cans, broken bottles, and the three guys on the second floor.
“You idiots sleeping?”
“Yeah?”
“You shitfaced?”
“Yeah?”
“You get a lot of people here?”
“Coach, man, coach, coach Figg, Figg, Figgers, Figgy Figarino…”
“Evan you as bad as him?”
“I’m good.” Evan stood straight up on the second floor ledge and fell onto a hay pile on the first floor.
“You better be dead Evan or I’ll kill you if your hurt.”
“I’m good. This itchy shit broke my fall.”
“How many people came?”
“Some high school kids. Like fifty of them. Not many of them were tech kids.”
“Then who were they?”
“Other schools. I think some of them were college kids.”
“College kids? When do college kids party with high schoolers.”
Fatty answers, “I might have mentioned it to the college team we practice with.”
“How many college kids?”
“About fifty. They left a keg in the garage.”
“Where’s Atty and Lisa?”
“The garage.”
I leave to go to the garage but first…
“Any of you have a good time?”
“I touched a boob.”
“I made out with a drunk chick who thought I was her ex.”
“I’m so wasted.”
“Nothing wrong happened?”
“We’re alive.”
I’m making them run tomorrow. From the school to here, so they remember to clean up. I go into the garage to see who’s still here.
“Is anyone here?”
I’m not seeing many people. The red and blue plastic cups are everywhere. If I look harder I’ll find condoms and underwear. But that’s for tomorrow’s team practice. I think I’ll put a trash can down the road and make the team run each can, cup, bottle, condom, or whatever over to the trash.
“Hello, anyone in here-holyshit-”
“Get out!”
I slam the door and turn back. Atty was making out with someone. I didn’t see anything but when I opened the door the light hit her face. I knew it was her voice.
“Atty, I know it’s you in there. I don’t want to cockblock anyone but you and whatever dude that picked you up has to come out right now. If it was five minutes ago it’d be okay but I’m here and as…” Fuck, why do I have to be the better person? All that means is that nobody has fun. Fucking hate this. “Look, no harm no foul, the two of you come on out.”
A minute later Atty comes out. Here makup is smeared and her clothes are all frumpled.
“It’s the middle of December; you don’t think it’s too cold?”
“You couldn’t have let us be all night?”
“MacLeary’s closes at four. I needed to get my car and drive everyone home. What about your guy in there, what’s taking him?”
“There’s nobody in there.”
“If I go in there and they’re going out the window, I have to stop them.”
“There is no guy in there.”
“No, there’s a reason the window is a bad idea. The office window is above a pile of rusted barbed wire.”
Atty pokes her head into the office and says to come out.
“Holy shit, Atty…”
“Please don’t let anyone else know.”
“Hi, coach.”
Atty was on top of Lisa.

“So, Coach Figg, how do you explain your team’s success?”
“Hard work, determination, learning from better players, learning from our mistakes, and lots of luck.” I missed talking to sports writers. That fake persona you have to convince them of, the one that lacks doubt and is all attitude, the one that sells the fight, it’s second nature to me, not to mention that high school basketball writers don’t ask nearly as hard questions as boxing writers.
“So it has nothing to do with all the games that Doheny Tech expected to lose being canceled over snow?”
I take that back. Fucking bastard.
“I have no control over the weather. We have a good team, the teams we lost to are usually ranked one or two places above us. With a smaller team, I’ve focused on athletic ability and so far it’s worked.”
“You’re team is now six and five. How does it feel to be a winning team for the first time in twenty years at Doheny Tech?”
“Ask me at the end of the season. Winning one game more than we lost is not a great ratio. We strive to do our best.”
“It’s been noted that even on the games you lost, the shots on net increased and the percentage of shots landed increased but not as noticeably, what made this happen?”
“Like I said, hard work and determination. Going back to the smaller team factor, it allows the team to really build a cohesive unit. The team is very much in tune with itself.” You have no idea.
“It’s been noted that the two girls on you team, Lisa St. John and Atalanta Cooper-”
“We just call her Atty. I’ve never heard her ask to be called Atalanta.”
“Well, the two girls on your team have led to accusations of ref favoring. Any comment?”
“Look, the refs are the refs. I don’t agree with them all the time. We get the same treatment as a team. That said, the two girls on our team shoot and run as well as if not better than the guys on this team. It goes back to what I was getting at before. This team is five kids who want the world to know who they are and what they can do.”
“Your team has been known to play, for the lack of a better word, street ball.”
“How do you mean?”
“The alley-oops, the bouncing the ball off the back board to an alley-oop, the bouncing the ball off the floor to an alley-oop, the spear chucking-”
“Spear chucking?”
“Your player Henry Downs, will take shots from under your basket at the other team’s basket.”
“It hasn’t worked yet but it gets the ball in play.”
“Do you think it’s because of the fast paced nature of your team’s game that you think you’ve succeeded so far?”
“Succeeded? Like I said, we’ve only won one game more than we’ve lost. If anything that’s a wash. I think we can hold off on the celebrations for now. I told you before, I need a team that can play against these teams that have a luxury of a bench. The way I figure it, the better we play, the more that first string stays in, the more tired they get, the sooner they have to use that second string. I’m not saying we’re beating the teams with strategy, but we’re doing a decent job of out pacing them and capitalizing on whatever openings we can see.”
“Last question, it didn’t occur under your head coach tenure but do you foresee a one hundred point loss again to Wilson High, who is undefeated?”
“Do I think we can beat Wilson? I think we can work our hardest and leave it all on the court.”

“Okay, guys, we’re ahead by fifteen points. I don’t want to blow this lead, so I want you all to eat the clock.” In the girls locker room at Bryan High, during half time. The refs aren’t calling anything in this game. When they are calling, they’re it wrong. “Pass the ball, about five times before you shoot. Who’s tired?” Looking at Henry and Lisa, they’re the only ones not being guarded enough to make shots. Evan and Atty are getting boxed in too much to move around. Afro, on the other hand, has been doing good being a garbage man on break aways but he’s going for threes too much. “Afro, how come you’re shooting for threes?”
“They’re fast coach. It’s not like the last game where we could run circles around them. They know where we’re going.”
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do…” Where’s my clipboard? “I’m going to show you as soon as I find my clipboard.”
“You left it out on the bench.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I thought you knew what you were doing?”
“Funny, Fatty, funny; sit here while I go get it.”
The gym here is small. If they fully extended the bleachers, the side lines of the court would be covered. We couldn’t even get seats; we have to sit on the farthest out bleacher. Lazy bastards don’t even give us a water cooler. I grab the clip board that I’m going to draw our strategy on but I hear something I shouldn’t.
“We have to make sure Doheny wins by ten. If Bryan scores, signal the refs to foul out the shooter.”
I walk by, not looking directly at who said it but I can see two guys in the crowd who don’t have kids on either team or have any good reason to be at a high school basketball game. You know the type anywhere you see them, they want money more than they want a show. No love for the game. The question I have is who did it? I have to do something but I need to do something first inside the locker room.
“Okay team, I got a question. If you were to win by having someone else cheat, would you feel good about winning?”
“Did you cheat?”
“No.”
“But we win?”
“Supposedly.”
“So why should we feel bad?”
“Lisa and Afro, if you were to win tonight because someone did something to fix the outcome, would you feel bad?”
“Do we know about it?”
“You might find out.”
“It would suck.” Evan spoke loud and slow enough for us to hear clearly. “Why the hell would we work so hard just so someone could fix it that we lose?”
“Yeah, but Ev, in this case we win.”
“If they can fix it that we win, they can fix it that we lose.”
Evan really hit the team with that one. He looks to me and says “We don’t want to win like that.”
“Well, I’ll take care of it. If you guys want to keep your points that you’ve scored, I’ll let you put it to a vote. I’m going to have a conversation.”
Leaving the room I felt guilty. Maybe I should have just gone straight to this. Swear to god Evan was a boy scout in a past life.
“Hey, refs, got a question for you.”
They stand there and do nothing. Won’t acknowledge me? How about this.
“Does Mr. O’Brannon know you two are fixing games he’s running bets on?”
The two of them turn white and look at me.
“Do your damn jobs.”
Going back into the locker room with two minutes left in half time, I see Evan standing in the middle of the room. His face is red on his left. The mark is the size of a hand.
“Coach, we’ve all agreed that the points aren’t worth it. However, we still have a half left to score points and we’d like to start where we came in.”
“Fair enough, alright team, gather round and see my great strategy.”

“You fucking idiot. I should break your head. What were you thinking?”
Fuck you, Cribb.
“Bill, I don’t want trouble. A loss is better than a forfeit.”
“The game was fixed.”
“Not by the people I know. I don’t want that trouble.”
“What do you mean trouble?”
“Scary people fix things. Scarier people hate swindlers. I know the scariest people had an interest in that game.”
“What are you talking about?”
“O’Brannon has been taking bets on high school games. If someone fixes a game that he doesn’t okay, you end up in the hospital in traction.”
“Fuck me.”
Wait a second.
“You idiot, you had a hand in it?”
“Sort of.”
“What you mean, sort of? Did you or didn’t you?”
“Two guys tell me they’re gonna fix the games for us. You weren’t doing it so I figured why not. I paid them a thousand dollars.”
“If anything should happen, go along with it. But if those two guys show up, call O’Brannon, and give them to him.”
“What if they get mad?”
“Who would you rather have mad at you? O’Brannon or them? One would think they’re small time compared to him. Plus, O’Brannon has an investment in you. So at least he needs you in one piece.”
“Oh fuck my life.”
“Don’t let Sasha know.”
“You think I’m going to tell her?”
“I know you’re not going to tell her. But for all the pain in the ass she is, she’s not dumb. Don’t let her find out. First she’ll kill you and then she’ll kill me for the hell of it. Or she’ll do us both in at the same time.”

“Glad you could make it, coach.”
“Welcome to the party, Coach Figg.” This is the first time I’m meeting the parents. Henry’s parents are the only ones that get up to greet me. “So you’re the man that got my son to lose thirty pounds. Let me buy you a beer.”
“My son, he’s skin and bones, he doesn’t eat at home anymore.”
“Honey, let the man alone. Don’t worry Coach Figg, Hank just eats less now. My wife thinks love is two plates of lasagna with dessert. Let me introduce you.”
Mr. Downs leads me around the restaurant, the booster club paid for a mid-season dinner. My first thought was when the hell did we get a booster club? The parents don’t even come to the games. Fourteen games in, not a single parent shows up. Better make sure not to ask that. The invitation said plus one so I did the most logical thing and asked Milla if she wanted to come. Waiting on her to show up. I really hope Bill and Sasha were too busy. I hope they were not invited.
“This is Hammond Bernstein and his wife Millie.” Afro’s dad is a bloated drunk. He has that skin thing that makes it all pock marked and red. He shaves uneven, I can tell from the stubble that longer in patches. His wife is thin, really thin, and then some. I could smell the booze on them both. “This is Agatha Bergor, Lisa’s grandmother.” Holy shit, how old is this woman? She’s built like a tank. An old Russian tank, with flabby skin, and wrinkles. Does she hide coins in her jowls? Lisa has a long life to look forward to but I hope she takes care of herself. “The Coopers couldn’t make it. Mrs. Cooper was busy at the Hospital doing an emergency heart operation or something. Dale was caught up with a court case at his firm. I keep telling him partners don’t have to work but he enjoys it.” They named their kid Atalanta, I figured they were hippies. Apparently they’re workaholics.
“Hey, Coach Figg, glad you could make it.”
“Hey, Evan, your folks here?”
“Yeah, hold on.” Evan grabs his mom and his… Other mom?
“This is my mom.” He points to the first woman.
The first woman takes point before Evan can talk. “Hi, Eva Walbach,” She shakes my hand super firm. “This is my partner Carrina.”
“Hi, thank you for being a good role model and a good coach for Evan.”
“No, thank you, Evan is the hardest working kid I have. If he could just hit the threes he would be perfect.”
“Oh you’re too kind.” What? That was a compliment.
“Excuse me one second.” I see Milla. I also see Bill and Sasha. God Damn it.

“To the best season we’ve had in years.”
Yeah, three games left and we’re down by two games.
“Hear hear.” Everyone clinks their glasses.
“So, Coach Figg, what did you do before you came to Doheny?”
“He used to beat people up.” Sasha threw that in there before taking another drink.
“I used to box.”
“Oh, you were a professional. Did you fight in the UFC?”
“No, Mom, UFC is MMA?”
“What’s MMA?”
“MMA is Mixed Martial Arts, Mrs. Downs. I trained with some MMA fighters. Boxing is a sport but the skills come in handy for them.” Most of them can’t go five rounds, let alone ten. Yeah, that’s boxing.
“I think that’s barbaric. Are you enjoying being a coach?”
“I had a joke at the beginning of the season. I went from assistant coach to head coach so fast that I thought I was going to be Athletic Director by end of the season.”
“Ha ha ha, I’m not out of there yet.”
“Mr. Cribb, is there any truth in the rumor that the school is closing?”
“Well, for one, where would the students go? Doheny High was made to ease up the congestion Tech had. To just take every Tech student and put them into the high school would bring the same problem.”
“So how did you feel when the team left for Doheny High?”
Pissed off, that’s how I felt.
“Myself and Ken were annoyed. We felt blindsided. But we were understanding.”
I look at Milla. I shoot her the look. She returns the look.
“Bill, I heard you might be retiring this year?”
“Now, Milla, where did you hear that rumor?”
“From your wife and my sister.”
I want a camera right now. I want a picture of Bill. I want to capture that pained, angry look, he has. I want to blow that image up and frame it. I want to buy a home with a fire place. I want to hang that giant, pained expression Bill has in my home.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I want to go talk to my team.”
I go over to the kids table.
“Evan, you couldn’t get your folks to a game because?”
“They were busy. They don’t like basketball.”
“Get them there in the stands for the Doheny game. Henry, you get your parents there too.”
“Coach, mind if I leave mine at home?” Afro asked.
“Just have them sit in the other section if you want.”
“I have busy parents.”
“Atty, if you want, I will go to their hospital and law firm and make them my lawyer and doctor if I have to.”
“Why should we bother coach? We can’t make two thousand.”
“But you can make a hundred, Fucker.”
“How come you never brought your sister around?”
“How come you never got your second prize?”
“I did.”
“Bullshit.”
“I did.”
“Let me see it.”
Lisa’s second prize was a special set of rings in her skin. Lisa tonight was wearing a shawl. She takes off the shawl and there it is. Ten rings and a lace that makes a bow.
“So that’s a corset piercing?”
“Yeah, I-” Lisa had her back to… Oh my…
“Holy shit!”
The old broad, her grandmother, was yelling some old country shit. Lisa’s screaming. Everyone jumps up to see what happened. Lisa collapses on the table in pain.
“You fucking bitch!” Afro grabs his dinner plate and smashes it across the old bitch’s face. The tank is still standing. She clenches her hand. Did she pull chicken heads off their body as a child? Afro does this beautiful left hand to her temple and she drops to the ground. He grabs what was in her hand and grabs Lisa.
“Coach, drive us to the hospital.”
“Milla, get your car.”
“What happened?”
“Rover showed me he has a left hand.”
“What?”
The old bitch ripped the corset rings out of her granddaughter’s skin.

The first quarter went like a game of pong. The ball went to one side, the ball went to the other side. I told Lisa under no circumstance was she to be near the ball.
“But coach, I can play.”
“If your back starts bleeding, you’re out. If you can just add pressure, that’ll do.”
Only five kids, one injury screws the whole team up. The team a whole season without a single problem, not even a damn hang nail. Had everyone work their asses off, extra practices with college players, pickup games on backyard courts, Saturday practices spent swimming and running on the sand at the beach. This is the game that the kids need to make a hundred. We’re not going to states. We’re four games out from the cut off. This our last game. Coach Lee is over there on the other side. She’s got a full bench of five ten guys. That one kid, the captain who left, is out on the court. Evan’s guarding him.
“Should have followed me, Ev, all the girls are hot for an athlete at D. High.”
“Yeah, when the hell did you become an athlete?”
That kid gets the ball and goes to shoot. Evan jumps and blocks the shot like Bill Russel.
“Way to go Evan!”
“Woo hoo! Great stop.”
Evan’s folks are here. So are the Downs. Afro’s folks are in the top row. Tell you what, I got to talking to them, and they are every bit of screwed up I thought they were. Good people, hard working, but every time I look up I see at least one of them taking a hit from a hip flask. Lisa left her grandmother at home. Still can’t believe what happened. I once saw a thing on Ripley’s Believe It or Not where dudes were suspended by hooks in their backs. Their skin stretched half a foot and never broke. That old bitch broke skin in ten spots. Atty’s mom basically super-glued the tears and put a patch on her back. Atty’s dad said he’d keep an eye out for any trouble for Afro.
“Well, Mr. Cooper, the woman was hurting her granddaughter. Af-…Rover was defending her. He wanted the rings in case there was skin still attached.”
“It’s not like a finger or a toe.”
“Look, if he didn’t do it, I would have. Who the hell does that to a kid?”
Mr. and Mrs. Cooper were holding a sign that read “Go Atalanta Go”. It’s halftime, the first game they’ve ever come to they get to see their daughter score fifteen points, all threes. The Downs are happy too. Henry lost forty pounds this season. It was funny, a couple weeks ago, we had to take saran wrap, roll it up, and use it as a cheap version of a belt. His second prize should have been skinny person clothes. Henry’s talking to Bloom now.
“So, Bloom, like the new me?”
“Was the vomiting worth it?”
“Vomit this.”
Henry got the ball and chucked it at the basket. The ball bounced off the back board and Evan was there to finish it off. I take this opportunity to look over to Coach Lee, who is shocked. She looks at me at the same time. I smile and she is near hysterical. She knows the kids; she’s wondering how the fuck I got them to be where they are now.
“Hey, Ken, your team is doing great. You did a great job coaching them.”
“Yeah, Kendrick, your guys are up by one.”
This is why Milla and Sasha would be lousy corner men. One’s too positive and the other convinces you you’re supposed to be losing. At least Bill’s in his office, he’s been a real pain in the ass about not making it to states.
“Cross the ball.” I yell out to the team. Afro crosses the ball to Atty, she shoots, and it sinks. We’re up by three. It’s the last two minutes. All we have to… Great, Bill wants a word.
“There’s a game going on right now.”
“We have it won.”
“No- Swing the ball!”
“I have great news.”
“It can wait a minute. Atty, get open, Afro, get under the net.”
“We made states.”
“Box--” Wait, what? “Say that again.”
“We made states.”
“How?”
The Buzzer goes off. We won.
“Hold on.” I go onto the court and we all hug and all that. I walk back to Bill while the team shakes hands. We won. Holy shit, we beat the team everybody left for. We won. “Now, how are we in states?”
“You ever had been in a fight with where the other guy was hopped up on something and didn’t fix the drug test?”
“No?”
“Well you have now, four teams had players tested positive for P.E.D.”
“And?”
“That’s six games forfeited. You made states retroactively.”
“We’re going to states?”
“Yeah, go tell the team.”
Holy shit.

“Okay, team, I have one thing to say. I am severely disappointed that some of you did not make a hundred points. You fouled up and lost more points than you scored and earned at practice. So in order to remedy that, we will all go on a ten mile jog. I will rephrase that. I am going to drive to the Johnson and Sons Auto ten miles east on Main Street. You all are going to jog there. If you get there before I do, it’s an easy thirty points.”
“Thirty points? What about States? We could make it up there?”
“I don’t want you guys worrying about this at States. But just to make it interesting, whoever is later than me, one minute is one point.”
“Thank you coach.”
I get in my car and drive off. The team starts jogging. It’s a straight run for them. But I’m going to McDonalds. I want a McRib. I’ll go to the one in the Walmart. I need to buy a shirt and tie for States.
***
“Okay, I got here at three. You all got here at ten after. So that’s twenty points. Afro, your short a point.”
“Aw, come on.”
“Just do twenty pushups. Everyone do twenty. Team practice.”
They count it out.
“One, two, three, four, one…”
All the way up to twenty.
“Okay, kids, let’s go see Mr. Johnson.”
Johnson and Sons Auto is not a dealership. It’s not a mechanics shop. It’s not even store. Johnson is a junker. Dude has hundreds of cars here. I called him up. Said I needed five cars but I needed a list of working cars the kids could choose from. Asked me if O’Brannon could clear it. I said sure, I called Brannon, told him I would use the winnings for the cars. O’Brannon, bless the bastard, said to Johnson “If those kids get a clunker of a car, I will shove your fat ass into the trunk of the next car that gets shredded. Give Figg my discount.” So let’s see what Johnson is giving us.
“Here’s your options, kids, all the cars you see before you work. None of them are past seventy thousand miles. All of them had good owners.”
Atty asked me under her breath. “Then why are they in a junk yard?”
I responded, in kind, “Don’t ask about things you don’t want to know about.”
“Have at it kids.” Johnson walks over to me while the kids look over the cars. “I want a thousand a car.”
“Is that with the O’Brannon discount?”
“I pulled some of my finer items out for you. Five cars for five thousand is a hell of a discount.”
“Fair enough, anything I should know about?”
“Only that the cars work. None of them need anything major. They all need to be cleaned. Will say this though, advise them to buy American.”
“With all the shit we’ve been putting out?”
“The foreign parts they’ll need eventually, on some of these models, it’ll cost them more than what the car costs you. How are you getting this past the parents?”
“The kids have jobs. They saved up all year. Honestly, some of these kids don’t have anyone that would notice.”
Why You Never Put Your Ex in the Same Room as Your Current
“Mr. Cribb, how’s it going, you ugly bastard.”
“We’re just sitting down to Sunday breakfast, Mr. O’Brannon. What brings you by?”
“Sunday dinner? Is Milla making her delicious taylor ham and egg sandwiches? Could I impose on your for a taylor ham and egg sandwich?”
“Bill, who…” I freeze when I see him. I heard him knocking. Bill answered the door. I came to see who it was I heard call Bill an ugly bastard to his face. Now I regret it.
“Kenny boy, great to see you, I have to thank you for all the hard work you put into your team. Almost had a dry season thanks to your kids.”
“Ken, Bill, who’s is this?” Sasha came asking.
“Hi, you must be Sasha, Bill’s wife?” O’Brannon eyes her up and down. “Bill, you are lucky. You have a beautiful woman for a wife. She puts up with you. She has to, doesn’t she? My wife would have killed me if I had that shitty comb over you’re sporting.”
“Can I ask your name?”
“My friends call me Rodrigo but my given name is Roger O’Brannon. So, Bill, about that taylor ham and egg sandwich…”
“The food is almost ready… Mr. O’Brannon.” Milla stopped in her tracks.
“Milla! So good to see you, how’s work? Are you sleeping well? You never slept well.”
“Food will be ready soon. Mr. O’Brannon, would you like to join us?”
“I wouldn’t want to impose but your taylor ham and egg sandwiches are mighty fine.”
“I’ll make you one. Please, sit down.”
Milla and he went to or worked something together once. He was a creep then and he’s not much improved.
“So, Bill, how do you hold on to your wife? Is it the money or do you go down on her every now and again?”
“Excuse me? What did you say.”
“Honey…”
“Sasha, go help Milla.”
“No, I want him to say that-”
I yell at her “Sasha, go help Milla, right now.”
Sasha has that indignant I won’t be told what to do look. I have the I’ve never touched a woman but this is for your own good and I will drag you out of here look. She leaves in a huff.
“O’Brannon, this better not be something you could have said over the phone.”
“Oh, Kenny, don’t worry. I bring good news. I have come to tell you that the three of us have concluded our business. Bill, you worthless sack of shit, Ken’s old debts are clear. Ken, if I ever hear you taking a bet again, I’ll break your head. Congratulations gentlemen, you’ve done well.”
“Uhh, how is he off the hook?”
“Well, if you must know, Ken has been a very good human being. You see, I’m a slightly bad person. It’s very rare I can do a good deed. Well, I decided to take a collection for the basketball team and help them get uniforms, team sneakers, and training gear. Or get them into proper training environments. I made more money on that five kid team than anything this season. So as a token of my gratitude, Ken is off the hook regardless if you have a job next year, Bill.”
“What do you mean if?”
“Didn’t you hear?”
“What?”
Bill sounds angry but he looks really scared right now. Like the blood is draining out of his face.
“Everyone knows the Tech school is done for. It’s god knows how old and falling apart. Half the shitty teachers are tenured. The other half has the union backing them. They figure the High school can handle the influx once the sending lines are drawn.”
“How do I not know about this?”
“Oh, the writing has been on the wall. You might be the first to know that it’s being announced next month.”
“How do you know?”
“Bill, Billy-boy, William, I’m a proud parent of an honors student. I go to the PTA meetings. I sit in on the town hall meetings. The stenographer gives good head. I hear many things and I put them together. You on the other hand are seriously campaigning for that fixed position. Word of advice: if you focus on one small stroke, you miss the meaning of all the strokes put together. Think big picture next time.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack. Don’t have one, by the way, wait till after I have my taylor ham and egg sandwich. Don’t worry, Bill, you’re a man in his early fifties.”
“Forties.”
“Oooh, ouch, well, get a haircut and go down on your wife after sex and maybe she won’t realize you don’t have that great retirement package or that steady income to pay for her weekly ass botox and make use of that pre-thirty body of hers and find someone worthwhile.”
O’Brannon gave Bill a pat on the shoulder and walked towards the kitchen.
“Man am I hungry. Did I ever tell you, Ken, that your sister makes the best taylor ham and egg sandwiches.

“Alright, guys, I’m not going to lie to you. We’re not winning this on skill tonight. We’re winning tonight on drive. We’re winning on luck. We’re winning if God himself comes down and delivers us baskets.”
“You suck as a motivational speaker.”
“Thanks, Henry, I was going to add keep your heads up too.”
“You think we’re going to lose?”
“I think we’re up against a wall. The only way we were going to get an easy win was if these guys got busted for steroids like all the other schools.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“You’re welcome, Lisa, I’m going to be honest with you guys, I don’t care about this game.”
“Really? You don’t care? Cause I’d like to win.”
“Evan, I’d like to win too. I’d like you all to go out there and just outplay all these guys. But I want you to do something harder.”
“Harder than winning?”
“Yeah, Atty, I want you all to play for fun.”
“What?”
“Fun. Pure fun and love of the game.”
“It’ll be hard if we lose.”
“Afro, you can go out there and play as hard as you like. But if you go out there thinking there’s going to be a prize handed to you, I’ll have failed you.”
“Come on, coach, just give us the points from the forfeits.”
“Can’t do it. We lost to those teams. They made disgraces of themselves. You want to profit off that? I hate winning like that. You know what my favorite match is?”
“One where you don’t get hit?”
“No, the opposite, I love it when two guys step up to each other and leave nothing behind. That for as long as they can, just push themselves. For the money that’s offered, it’s never worth taking that kind of beating. But for that feeling in yourself that you get when you take the beating of your life and still give the guy in front of you the beating of theirs. When it’s all said and done, they knew you could go the distance.”
“So you want us to pick a fight tonight?”
“No, I want you to go one for one with them as long as you can.”
“You want us to tie Wilson High school?”
“What are you smoking and where can I get some?”

“Wilson passes the ball. Doheny’s defense has improved considerably.”
“Yeah, this is not the same team that Wilson played in a scrimmage.”
“Yeah, they trimmed the fat off the roster apparently.”
“Wilson passes and… Doheny steals. Rover Bernstein, number four steals the pall and passes it to number seven. She shoots and scores. Three points to Lisa St. John.”

“Number four for Doheny has the ball.”
“He has just been phenomenal tonight. “
“He really has, he’s stolen the ball eight times tonight.”
“Wilson has been dominating the game but Doheny keeps coming back.”
“Balls passed to number eight in the corner. She shoots, it’s off the rim.”
“Number eight has been averaging eighty percent of her shots from in the paint.”
“Balls back to number eight. She shoots and it’s in.”
“What a great shot she has.”

“Wilson scores again.”
“I don’t know how these Doheny kids have stayed in the game this long.”
“Here’s how, watch number thirty as he brings the ball in. Number four is at the opposite side of the court. Thirty shoots full court!”
“Ball hits the rim.”
“Number four finishes it. Alley-Ooo, it’s in.”
“Thirty has an arm on him.”
“Their coach was rumored to have made his team do a thousand pushups on their first practice.”
“That kid is gonna be a javelin gold medalist.”

“Number four really is the star of Doheny.”
“He reminds me of Bill Russell.”
“The way he stops those shots, you’re right.”
“This whole team plays amazing.”
“It’s sad to think about but I think they just got into their groove.”
“Common knowledge about this team, with only five players, they worked out so hard at practice so that they could play these games and still have some energy to spare.”
“Number four has the ball.”
“He drives the center.”
“He’s up in the air!”
“He’s reaching!”
“It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s superman dunking the ball into the hoop.”
“Oh my god.”
“Have you ever seen that?”
“That kid was parallel to the floor.”
“He was ten feet in the air.”
“Tell me someone got that picture.”

“Tell you what? One of Doheny’s many strategies has always been to get the other team to foul them.”
“The Doheny kids are fearless. They’re trailing by four and they have half the fouls of Wilson.”
“One more foul and Wilson give Doheny extra foul shots from now on.”
“Number seven gets the ball.”
“She is running towards to Wilson’s defense.”
“Wilson reaches in.”
“Doheny gets the shot off.”
“Whistle blows, the shot is good.”
“Tell you what, Doheny can take a beating but it works.”
“Lisa St. John at the line for three shots.”

Holy shit.
“Holy…”
“We did it?”
“Way to go Evan!”
“Evan dunked it. Evan dunked it. Evan dunked it!”
Whistle blows.
“What?”
“Coach, we need you over here.”
Now what. We’re tied.
“What is it ref?”
“Your player can’t play.”
“What?”
“She’s bleeding.”
Oh no.
“Lisa, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“She’s bleeding through her uniform.”
Lisa took too many falls in the game. Her stitches probably got too banged up.
“Lisa, go sit down.”
“Coach…”
“Please sit down. Let the medic look at you.”
“Coach…”
“Atty, get your mom to help, she should see this.”
“Coach, please…”
“Lisa, you did good.”
Lisa isn’t taking it easy. The whole team goes to see her sit down.
“Coach, you don’t have enough players to fill the court.”
“I know that.”
“Do you want to forfeit?”
“No I don’t want to forfeit.”
“Hey, my team wants to play.”
“You’re down a player.”
“We’re not forfeiting.”
“But you could.”
“We’re not.”
“But you only have four players. There’s something in the rules.”
“Are you fucking kidding me, we can play with four people.”
“What did you say?”
“I said we can play.”
“You cursed at me?”
“Yeah I cursed at you. You were being an idiot.”
Asshole blows the whistle in my face.
“You’re out of here.”
“What?”
“Foul. Get yourself out of this gym.”
“Are you fucked in the head?”
“Get out of this gym.”
“What?”
“Coach what’s going on?”
“Leave this gym or your team forfeits.”
I walk over to the team.
“Guys, I’m proud of you. But if I don’t leave, I ruin it for you.”
“Coach Kendrick, what happened?”
“I think the refs are deciding the game.”
“You have ten seconds to leave the gym.”
“I’m out of here asshole.” I turn to the team. “Have fun.”
The bitter cold hits me in the face. I’m not alone.
“Rough call?”
“Can I get a drink?”
Mr. Bernstein hands me the flask.
“Thanks. Fucking refs are idiots.”
“Thanks.”
“For what.”
“Keeping my boy out of the house. Getting him that car. Don’t know where he got the money for it but the sooner he gets out of the house the better.”
“You’re welcome?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I love my son. I love my wife. But I don’t want him to turn out like me.”
“You see him play tonight?”
“Oh yeah, they all played good.”
“Look in and tell me how it’s going.”
“Sure.”
Mr. Bernstein looks in.
“They’re walking.”
“What?”
I look in.
“Holy fucking shit.”
The four of them were lining up shoulder to shoulder on the line after Wilson scored on them. One of them would bring the ball in and they would pass it around. When they crossed the line, they shot the ball. Didn’t go in, Wilson gets the ball, runs back and scores.
“You think they’re giving up, coach?”
“No, they I think they’re just trying to look cool. If Wilson really wanted to win, they run up and grab the ball before they crossed the half.”
“So they’re letting us get a shot off?”
“I think so.”
“That’s true sportsmanship right there.”
“True, Mr. Bernstein. True.”

“So what’s the thing to do now?”
“I’m going to Vegas.”
“Huh?”
“I’m going to Vegas.”
“Coach, you up for it?”
“I ain’t your coach.” I tipped back my beer. Applebees is calm during the week.
“You’re always going to be our coach.”
“Team, my advice, don’t get fat. After you all did that running, now that it’s gone, you might get fat.”
“I have a car. I am going to get in my car and drive to Vegas.”
“Evan, you’re nuts.”
“No, nuts is not going to Vegas just because we lost.”
“We didn’t earn it.”
“We earned a car each. I say we earn Vegas by driving there.”
“When you going to leave?”
“Tonight, I’ll drive home and pack, and then I’ll go out to Vegas.”
“Who else is in?”
“We’re apartment hunting. We need to get that done.”
“Then come check out apartments in Vegas. Atty, you wear the pants, help me out.”
“Afro, kiss my ass, Atty is not the pants wearer.”
“I’m not?”
“Uhh, dear, I, ugg, um, no dear.”
“Okay, Henry?”
“Yeah, but what are we gonna do?”
“I don’t know what you kids are gonna do. But I know I’m going to take a leak right now.”
“TMI, coach, TMI.”
I look up at the Doheny Tech section. I wonder if they’ll take it down now. Well, maybe they’ll keep it up. I kind of like seeing me and the team’s photograph from our win over Doheny. The superman Evan did at the Wilson game, they have that news clipping. I like the headline they went with for the Wilson game. “Underdogs Beat Wilson in Overtime: 70-60”. All our stuff was in one frame. I think Henry’s parents donated it. The one Milla put in may be my favorite. It’s the team photo that O’Brannon paid for. There’s a plaque on the frame that reads one word.
“Fighters.”

I hate comb overs. Be a man and admit you have no hair. It’s like me standing here looking for a job. I ain’t got no job skills. Punching people doesn’t count as a skill. They need you to know outlook. Outlook, Excel, and Word are more important skills than weaving and ducking. Combing your hair over your head isn’t a skill. Turning your skullet into a comb over is just failing to admit you lost your hair. It’s gone, get over it, the world doesn’t need you to have hair. Man up.
“Mr. Figg, Director Cribb will see you now.”
Bill Cribb, athletic director to Doheny Technical School, overweight man with a combover, and he’s got more money than fat.
“Hey, Kendrick, glad you could make it.”
“No problem, Bill, I got time to kill.”
“How’s job hunting coming along?”
“Still getting my recovery out of the way.”
“Still on that boxing? Didn’t the doc tell you-“
“The doctor can kiss my ass. What’s up, Bill?”
“There’s an assistant head coach position available.”
“Did Lorry put you up to this?”
“If you take it, you start working as soon as possible.”
“Shove it up your ass.”
“When you take the job, I square you with O’Brannon.”
Fucking hate combovers. Man up.

Doheny Tech was famous for three things. Wrestling, Foods, and sucking at sports. While wrestling is a sport, it should be noted that the majority of Doheny Tech students have no interest in college and the majority of the students going to Doheny are farm kids. However, was is the operative word. Five years ago, the township broke ground on Doheny High, a fifteen million dollar three level steel and glass state of the art “education complex”. The whole thing looked like a dome. After the foundation cracked the one year, Hurricane Michael took out some of the finished glass the next, the labor strike the following summer, and the walls falling down on the gym, the school was ready to open.
Doheny Tech on the other hand, was built during the sixties as an afterthought. Harding County, New Jersey, needed a school to teach the programs other schools didn’t offer: cooking, autoshop, metallurgy, woodshop, drafting, art, and radio production. The school was built for one thousand students. The first program to go was radio production in favor of more class rooms in the seventies. In the eighties, the school capacity was two thousand, each program was reduced to the point where the autoshop bay had English as a Second Language courses in-between Intro to cars. The art program never got hit much but that was because the teachers pooled resources, found a way to charge non-students to take classes. Foods was easily the flagship program because the student body was fifty six percent female for three decades. However, the student population boomed from three to five thousand from nineteen eighty four to nineteen ninety four. Something had to change. The school budget that would have allowed expansion from the original one thousand student capacity to a comfortable four thousand capacity was voted down.
In two thousand ten, Doheny High opened less than half a mile away from Doheny Tech. The budget had been estimated at fifteen million dollars. Not counting the shoddy workmanship from the lowest bidding contractor that laid the foundation that cracked, the damages from the storm, the walls falling down. Nor not counting the initial repairs during the first year the school opened. However, there was no question that Doheny High was the better school considering Doheny Tech was known to put a new paint of coat on the hallway every ten years. Not to mention the sports programs.
With Doheny High, a sports vacuum was created. Coaches on losing teams and assistant coaches with no immediate hope for a promotion from different schools saw an opportunity put their hat into the ring. One of the first real upsets was the JV assistant wrestling coach of twenty years at Doheny Tech taking the Varsity head coach position. Suddenly the entire incoming freshman and several of the incoming varsity wrestlers were now Doheny High students. Coaches and teachers from Freedom, New Hope, and Crow’s Nest were jumping ship in the next county over and getting hired in a higher paying gig.
It was called the Doheny Brother School System. What they created was a brother system. However, with the way things were done, the brotherhood matched Cain and Abel’s relationship.

Supposedly, I can’t tell the kids what to do. I can be in the gym, work out, and see what the kids are doing. God damn do they suck. The school has open gym for athletes. If you can call them athletes, lazy lardass slugs and idiots is what they are. For every one kid trying to do something you got three standing around dick in hand.
“Hey, man, can I use the treadmill?”
I look over to this kid behind me; he wants to use the machine I’m on, real skinny carrot top looking kid. Tall though, really hope to god he’s on the basketball team.
“Hold on, I’ve still got a mile to walk.”
“Okay.”
Kid walks away and stares at the weights. Maybe he thinks looking at heavy objects strengthens the eyes.
“You know you could probably run outside.”
“I don’t like running.”
“What sport do you play?”
“Varsity Basketball.”
Great.
“What’s your name?”
“Evan.”
“Evan, Kendrick,” shake hands, kid needs muscle, has no grip, “I’m the new assistant coach.”
“Oh, I see.”
“So how many kids are in the program?”
“Program? We got maybe fifteen kids on the team. Twelve guys, three girls.”
“Girls?”
“Ain’t got no girls team. No freshmen or JV team either.”
“Everyone’s varsity?”
“Yep.”
“Nobody gets cut I take it?”
“We got bench players galore.”

“Okay everybody, we’re going to form three teams of five. The captains are myself, Evan, and Atty.” After three weeks of open gym, the team captains, two senior guys and one junior girl, started doing five on five matchups. The kid I talked to the first week was one of the captains, he’s tall enough. The girl and guy next to him are about half a head shorter. Most of the players were half a head shorter than the tall kid except one girl who might as well have been five one. Too bad they’re all midgets compared to the other schools.
Each of the captains picked a team. The girl picked the two other girls. The one chick I would totally bang. She’s an athletic blonde thing in pink daisy duke shorts. The other had to be a sophomore, she was too small and young looking. Then she got two guys that had to be sophomores, soaking wet they couldn’t of weighed a buck twenty each.
That Evan kid picked the fattest guy on the team first. If those two sophomores were to be get on a scale, they wouldn’t weight as much as this lardass. Eighteen years old, how do you get like that? Does MacDonald’s deliver?
The third captain, he picked last, he managed to get the least convincing player of them all. This kid wore goggles while he played. Real thick, coke bottle goggles that went around his head, he had a fro too. If his eyes didn’t blind him, his hair did.
“How’s the team looking?”
I turn around and see this short Asian woman. She’s got a clip board, a pen, and she’s in her late twenties or early thirties.
“You the coach?”
“You my assistant?”
“Yeah, we got our work cut out for us.”
“They’re good kids, they like to play.”
“I bet they’d like to win.”
“Well, they’re tough; they know what they’re up against.”
“Talent?”
She shoots me a dirty look. We are not going to get along for three months. I can tell already.
“That’s what we’re here for. To get them ready for every game.”
“No problem, you teach them how to shoot hoops, I’ll get them into shape.”
“So you know the kids at all?”
“I’ve been watching them screw around. When we start up, how do you want to start up?”
“Well, the three captains are Atty, Evan, and Bloom. Atty and the girls are not seniors but Atty’s a captain. She’s good enough to be starting five. Evan is the tallest guy we got, he’s a captain. Bloom is the guy the whole team likes and he’s good for morale.”
“So when do we get involved?”
“Day after Thanksgiving.”

“I started here two years ago. This was my first job out of college.”
“Where did you graduate college?”
“I got my degree in New York. But I took off like three years from when I first started.”
We decided to get acquainted over at Applebees. For one thing, I wanted to see what Doheny Tech contributed to the wall of sports. I also wanted to get into Coach Lee’s good graces after that whole calling her team talentless. I might have been honest but I’d rather not be on her shit list from day one.
“So where’s Doheny Tech here?”
“What do you mean?”
I point to the sports memorabilia.
“Oh, that.” She points to the restroom. “Look above the doorway to the john.”
Wow.
“One thing?”
“A picture of the seventies wrestling team.”
“Why not anything else?”
“I don’t know. It’s before my time.”
We both talk about the team. Getting a heads up on which kid is which. What teams we play. She looks at me like she wants to know something about me.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get this job?”
“My brother in law is the athletic director.”
“Bill Cribb is your brother in law?”
“Yep.”
“So what do you bring to the table?”
“He wants me to get the team into physical shape.”
“Did you go to school at all?”
“Nope.”
“So how are you qualified?”
“I used to box professionally.”
“Really?”
“Yep, licensed and everything, was for ten years.”
“What happened?”
“My knees don’t work too good. Doctors won’t clear me.”
“Cause of your knees?”
“My knees, my head, and my back.”
“You messed all that up fighting?”
“Nope, last year I was in a car wreck.”
“Oh.”
The best way to kill a conversation: talk about something deeply personal. I excuse myself so I can go see what that one photo is. Up close, on the bottom of the picture is a small card. “Doheny Tech Wrestling Team. Undefeated State Champions 1970.”

“So you ready for tomorrow?”
Getting up at five, driving an hour to work, and running drills on out of shape kids, yeah I’m so fucking looking forward to this.
“Yeah, sis.”
My older sister, Milla, she is a good person. Not goody two shoes, nose up in the air insufferable good, but like, honest and well meaning. She once found a twenty dollar bill on the ground at the bank. She walked right in there and handed it to the cashier, said she found it on the ground. She’s lucky too cause nobody claimed it after a month.
“Bill says he thinks you can whip those kids into shape.”
“I’m just there to do what the coach says. She wants me to run drills, I run drills. She wants me to keep track of the numbers, I keep track of the numbers.”
“Well just don’t lose this job.”
Sasha, my younger sister, is not like her older sister. When, she enters the room, she likes to say the thing to make everyone tense. Like right now.
“Sasha, glad you could make it.”
“Hey sis, eat any young yet?”
Milla hits me in the back.
“So you took Bill up on the job?”
“Yeah, coaching basketball sounds good.”
“Assistant coach, Kenny.”
I swear I never intend to touch a woman wrongfully but if anyone could make it happen I’m looking at her.
“So where’s Bill at? Parking the car or speeding away?”
“He’s on his way. Excuse me.”
Milla shoots me a look.
“What?”
“Go easy on her.”
“What?”
“You know how she is.”
“A bitch.”
Milla hits harder with an open hand than most heavy heavyweights with gloves on.
“Don’t ruin Thanksgiving. I’m cooking the turkey now, the veggies are almost done, and I have to pull the twice baked potatoes out of the oven. Either go out on the deck and have a beer or sit around in the basement. Just avoid Sash.”
Great options, seeing as Milla uses her basement as a landfill. Swear to god, she has trash bags down there full of old clothes she has no way of wearing. Seriously, if you dig long enough, you’ll find her middle school gym clothes. Grabbing a beer on the deck it is.
“How’s it going Ken?”
“Hi, Bill.”
“Ready for work tomorrow morning, bright and early?”
“Yep.”
“What you think of the kids?”
“Slugs, the whole bunch of them.”
“Well, it’s your job to change that.”
“So what was the team record last year?”
“Five and twelve overall, one and twelve in conference, and we lost the tri-county tournament.”
“Why did you hire me again? Not that I mind our arrangement.”
“There’s some rumors going around.”
“Like?”
“The athletic director at Doheny High is an interim director. He’s been on the job for thirty five years. The board would like to hire someone in the system.”
“Someone like you.”
“I’d prefer it, yeah.”
“So where do I come in?”

Sucks.

The gym had all fifteen kids lined up on the half. Coach Lee was talking to them for the first half hour about doing their best. Then we started putting it into practice.
Drill number one is passing up and down the court. Two players run sideways and pass. If either of them dropped the ball, they have to start over. Fifteen kids means one of them was left alone. I had to help out with him. We restarted three times.
“Don’t worry, you’re getting it, you’re getting it.”
Boxing training kicks in, you start being the most positive person in the room whether or not. Just a matter of offsetting the compliment, if they suck than you say they’re getting it, if they are doing good you say they’re great, and if they’re great you say they’re perfect. But so far the team was just getting it.
After the drill, an hour of jogging around the gym court, it should be outside running but Coach Lee wants everyone prepared for running indoors. Makes sense to me.
The next drill was shooting. Three groups of five lined up and took a shot at the same time on the basket. After twenty minutes and sixty shots on the same basket, nobody made it.
Now more exercise doing pushups.
“Ladies, don’t you use your knees. Nobody stops till fifty pushups.”
Say one thing about Coach Lee, she’s not taking it easy on anyone.
“Team, time for suicide runs!”
A suicide is from the baseline running to the quarter, back, to the half, back, the three quarter, back, and to the opposite baseline and back. One kid looks like his lung burst halfway through. Ten team suicides and thirty minutes later it looks like there will be ten team suicides.
“Break for thirty team. We play a scrimmage when we get back.”
The team got over to the bleachers and just laid down. I looked over to Coach Lee.
“How they doing?”
“They’re slow, they got to get that out of the way, but I like where we’re at right now.”
“How do you want to handle the scrimmage?”
“I’m going to pick Bloom, Teddy, Warren, Grover, John, George, and Martha. You get the rest.”
“I get eight and you get seven? “
“You have more seniors and more girls. Just rotate the players.”
“You are going to coach both teams, right?”
“Sure.”

“So you’re a coach now?”
“Assistant coach, yeah, reload.”
I like bars. I like the universal nature of bars. I walk into a bar in New York, I order a gin and tonic I’m going to get a gin and tonic. If I can find a bar in LA, I order a gin and tonic I get a gin and tonic. Not like fast food places. I order a Big Mac at McDonanlds but I can’t at Burger King while I can get a bucket of fried chicken at KFC or a Baconator at Wendy’s. Not so at a bar, all bars have booze. Booze is universal. What also is universal is that one dude that can’t shut up about his problems. Thank god it isn’t me tonight.
“Coach? You? I was a coach.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I was.”
“You coached your kid and all the other five year olds.”
“I was a coach.”
“Your kid is forty five years old.”
“And?”
“You coached your kid forty years ago.”
“I was a coach.”
“You’re cut off.”
“I was a coach, damn it.”
“Apparently the dude was a coach. Well, my day sucked.”
“Kids do bad?”
“You have kids? They go to high school?”
“Yeah, wife got them into Doheny High.”
“My kids are the Doheny Tech team.”
“Damn.”
“The team played itself. The seniors suck. Except for one kid, but I didn’t get near him. The younger players are where it’s at.”
“Doesn’t every Doheny Tech kid have to option of going to the new school?”
“They do? I don’t know.”
“You should know that. Aren’t you their coach?”
“I was a coach!”
“Shut the fuck up. Call a ride.”
“I’m the assistant coach.”

“We’re playing Wilson High tonight.”
“How’d we do last time against them?”
“We lost by forty points.”
“How much did we score?”
“We netted ten in the first quarter. Five in the second and I think fifteen for the rest of the game.”
“So we scored thirty overall?”
“Yeah, they started with their second string and switched in their stars for a minute at a time.”
“You think they’ll do the same again?”
“Go easy on us? Maybe.”
Wilson High is the richest town in the county. It’s also the most consistently number one school in the conference. In the last ten years, they’ve won states six times. Or at least so I’m told.
“Okay, team, gather round.”
The team goes into a circle before we hit the court.
“Team, we have an uphill battle. I want everyone to go out there. Do our warm ups. Line up on the court and hold our heads high as we go into the game. It’s not whether we win, it’s not whether we score a thousand baskets tonight, and it’s that we held our heads up as we played with the best of them. They are the best and we all know it. So I want to see your heads up. I want everyone on the bench to sit at the edge of their seats wanting to get into the game so they can play the best. How are we going in there?”
“Heads high.”
“How are we going in there?”
“Heads high.”
“I can’t hear you. How are we going in there?”
“Heads high!”
***
“Heads high! Nobody drop those heads. You all did your best and nobody can take that away.”
Wow. I thought they sucked when they played themselves. Coach Lee goes straight to her office and shut the door. She held her head up in front of the team but I don’t know about right now in private. I once met a guy that had beer on tap in his car for when he lost a fight. I had a rematch with him once but the keg hit him so hard in his back when the car crashed he couldn’t fight anymore. The funny part was that he wasn’t even driving, his wife always drove him after a match and she was mormon sober.
“We suck.” Bloom announced.
“We were out played.” One of the younger kids, I don’t know his name, said while changing.
“Don’t sugarcoat it. They were taller, faster, and fucking nasty.” One of the girls in the stalls changing into street clothes yelled. I know it was the least talented of the three. Not the hot one and not the captain.
“The refs sucked. We get knocked around and no foul?”
“We could have had a thousand foul shots. Wouldn’t make a difference.”
“What you think the paper will say?”
“You think they’ll cover our scrimmage?”
“I think they’ll cover Wilson’s new team.”
“Here’s what it will say,” the fat one starts up, “the five man Wilson High starting lineup walked shoulder to shoulder, passing the ball at a brisk walking pace while the opposing Doheny Tech team were fucking insects that might as well have been crushed under the fucking ball for the first half of the game.”
“Okay guys…” I think they need to be reminded that they still have a real season left. “We’ve got practice on Monday. We’re going to run drills to help you guys avoid what happened tonight.”
“You mean losing by one hundred points?”

I hate waking up. Waking up is worse than sitting down. Sitting down isn’t so bad. It’s standing up that’s hard. So waking up is worse than standing up because you’re more rested. If I could sleep standing up, god, that would be awesome. Prop myself up between to vertical mattresses. That would be awesome.
The sun tends to shine straight through my apartment window in the morning in the winter. I don’t know how that happened. The real estate agent told me the window faces West. Sun rises in the east and sets in the west. How the hell did that happen? At least the phone isn’t wringing.
RING RING
“Fuck.” I pick up my cell. “Hello? Who… What!?”
Straight out of bed, just pajamas, it only takes me five minutes to go down the stairs to the street. I see the newspaper, front page news at the bottom.
“Trade: Doheny High signs Doheny Tech Basketball Coach to Contract.”
The article goes on and on about the prospects of Lee. How she took a team with perfect losing records and led the team to victory. A college ball player at a division 3 school who will be teaching and coaching basketball on the JV level, replacing the current girls JV coach who is going of maternity leave.
“Fuck this shit.”
Dialing Bill the fucker.
“Morning fucker, did you know about this?”
“Nope, I did not.”
“So what the fuck does this mean?”
“It means you’re gonna do your job, Head Varsity Coach Kenny Figg.”
I hate this. I signed up to help out. I didn’t sign up to do the whole fucking shebang. The rest of the day is spent sleeping. I get up, I hate doing that, and go to work. Walk into the gym.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Three kids waiting for me. The fat one, the tall kid Evan, and Afro Blindgoggles.
“Where’s the team.”
“We are the team coach.”
“ No, where is the team?”
“Doheny High. All the team followed Coach Lee over there.”
“What do you mean followed her?”
“All the kids transferred.”
“All the kids?”
“Well” Afro scratches his head “Atty and Lisa just left the team. Their parents won’t let them transfer. Jose might still be here. I know Cartman is?”
“Did you guys know about this? Who’s Cartman?”
“Fatass, you know, Arnold. He’s fat so we call him Cartman.”
“We gonna practice today?”
“Get changed and do a thousand pushups.”
“That’s it?”
“After the Wilson game, you’re lucky that’s it.”
“What are gonna do? We only have three players.”
“I’m gonna find out.”

“So how am I supposed to take this?”
“Smiling.”
“Fuck you, Bill, you didn’t know about this?”
“No I did not. But this just makes things easier.”
“How?”
“No Coach Lee, nobody else cares, nobody to notice.”
“Have I told you to go fuck yourself lately?”
“I took care of you with O’Brannon. You use your connections to smooth things out.”
“I don’t have a team.”
“You have three guys in the gym?”
I look down the hall to see the three guys doing pushups. At least I think they’re doing pushups. They might have died face down on the floor.
“Yeah.”
“All you need is two more guys. You can play with five.”
“If you have five incapable players, that’s going to raise eyebrows.”
“I’ve already thought of that. Here’s the schedule.”
Looking at the paper Bill hands me. I see a bunch of names I don’t recognize.
“What about it?”
“All the hard schools nobody expects the kids to win are blocked together. The easy schools are in the middle. All you have to do is get them to win the easy games and find a way to win the in-between games.”
“What about canceling a game? Reschedule it till when the team gets better?”
“I could, but we don’t have a hundred years. Just find a way to fix the games.”
“Through O’Brannon?”
“Through anyone.”
“You understand that I told you to go to Hell the first time right?”
“If you don’t win me the games, no states, I take away my money?”
“What?”
“I’m paying O’Brannon right now. You don’t win, I stop paying?”
“What do you mean you stop paying? How the hell does that work?”
“I kick him five hundred a week. Basketball ends in eleven weeks. You owe him a shit ton. You fail to get into states; you’re on your own for the rest of the money.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It won’t matter when you need to payback O’Brannon.”
“I’ll just save my paychecks.”
“You don’t make enough to cover it.”
“I’ll make it up elsewhere.”
“Yeah” Bill leans in to show that stupid yellow smoker’s smile “who are you going to bring your action to when nobody will take you?”
Fuck. Leave his office. Slam door. Hear picture frames fall. Need to hurt him. Find team instead.
“How many pushups have you done?”
“Fi-fifty coach.”
“I want another fifty by the time I get back.”
“Yes coah.”
Coach? Never wanted to hear those words. I go to Lee… My office. Names, names, where the fuck are the names?
“There, who was who?”
Jose, Cartman, Lisa, Atty. Got Afro Goggles, Evan, and the other fat one? There were two fat kids? Need to pay attention more. Fuck, I’m a coach now.
“Fuck my life.”

“Okay, as new Head Coach, it is my duty to offer all of you the chance to play.”
Okay, two girls, two guys, and the three I already have on the team. Time to turn the charm up to eleven.
“We already left the team.”
“No, you are in the process of leaving the team. If you do leave, there is no team.”
“Come again?”
The three guys on the team were interested.
“Three players can’t fill a court. We need two players to play.”
“I’m out.” Cartman stood up and walked out.
“Arnold, sit down.”
“No, I was signed up as a punishment. My folks caught me smoking weed last year and I had to sign up.”
“So what are your folks going to do now?”
“Sign me up for wrestling. I don’t know. I know I’m not playing on a losing team again.”
Fatass Cartman went out the door real quick. That leaves us with Jose and the two girls.
“Lisa, Atty, Jose, do you guys want to be on the team?”
“I don’t know.” Jose answered too quickly for my taste.
“Well” Try to be polite here, “What don’t you know?”
“I’m the only spanish dude here.”
“I think you know that already.”
“This team is all Beckys and Chads. I’d stand out.”
“Would that bother you?”
“Well last year…”
“Not the Sherman story.”
“It’s my story.”
“We’ve all heard it before.”
I haven’t heard it.
“Let him speak. Jose, what happened at Sherman?”
“We were playing, I was on the bench, and we were actually keeping up.”
“So what was it?”
“I could hear the other bench, some people in the crowds, they were all saying the same thing.”
“You don’t have to repeat it. I get the gist of it. It was only one place though. You can come to me if you hear anything.”
“I suck, I know it, but if I’m gonna lose, I want the winners to respect me. I know I’m not gonna have that.”
Jose leaves after that. I used to train with this dude that had glass hands. Couldn’t get a knockout to save his life, but one day a guy called him a coon in a match and he found out he had a great overhand left. Knocked the guy flat on his ass for a seven count, I asked him if he wanted us to tell him all his matchups were racist sons of bitches, what he told me: Won’t do any good, no matter how hard I hit them they’ll still call me what they want to.
“Atty and Lisa, if either of you leave, the three guys already on the team will have no team to play on.”
The two girls looked at each other. Lisa (the hot one?) was more willing than Atty. Atty kept shaking her head but Lisa kept nodding hers. Lisa spoke up and Atty relented.
“Coach, we’ll play, but we want things.”
“Things?”
“You know, things.”
“Well we want things too.” Afro Blindgoggles joined in.
Well, it can’t be any more expensive than having to pay back O’Brannon.

“How’s it going, coach?”
“Not bad. Not bad, I would like to get to practicing soon.”
“Where’s everyone else?”
“They’re on the way.”
I wrote up this up in a day. Here they come. Okay, turn around the system. I’m hoping this works. All the kids are sitting down.
“As you’ve all been made aware, the team is in trouble. As I understand it, some of you won’t play unless there is a reward. Now, I can understand this. Nobody does anything cause they love it. They have to be rewarded for being good at something they love. If I loved watching paint dry and someone paid me to watch paint dry, I’d do it. You guys like basketball, you want to be rewarded for it. You work hard, you don’t win, so you want something else as a reward. I get that. Because I get that, I am giving you all a choice. If you accept the rules of the system I present to you, you will be rewarded win or lose. If you want something for nothing, leave.”
Fat kid looked around. Atty looked around. Nobody else looked. Everyone stayed seated. I turned around the system.
“Rule number one: The only people allowed to know about this system are the six of us. No diary entries, no text messages, nothing that leaves a trace of this. If anyone finds out, the system goes away. Everything is done. Rule number two: I am the highest authority on this system. Understood?”
Everyone nods in agreement.
“Okay, here it is.” I turn the paper around to show what’s what. “Here it is. For ever practice you attend, it’s out of five points. Showing up gets you one point and full participation gets you five. For every twenty pushups, one point goes to your personal score. For every suicide you run under thirty seconds, one point goes to your score. Your personal score will earn you three things. I will discuss with each of you what those three things are, in my office, one on one after this. Games are the important things. For every point you score, it goes to your score. For every game we win, the team score goes up one hundred points. At the end of the season, all your personal scores will be added to the team score. If the team score at the end of the season is over two thousand, you all get a Vegas trip.”
I thought they were drifting in and out for most of it. Telling them they have to shave fifteen seconds off their suicide times almost mad them leave. But Vegas… Hell, they’d shoot themselves in the foot to get to Las Vegas.

“So what do I have to do exactly?”
“Work, hard and long.”
“What do I get?”
“For one, you’re still captain. After that, what do you want?”
“To play.”
“You can do that. If you do it well, you get something.”
“I don’t know if I want it coach.”
“Why?”
“It feels like a payoff. I just want to play. Lisa is the one that wanted a bribe to join.”
“Tell you what, if you feel this way, you don’t have to do it. You can just play. But, the way I set the system up, everyone has to earn their stuff. A suicide run at thirty seconds or less? How many a day can they run that? Can they even run that now? Twenty pushups, maybe they can get a point easy, but two points? Can you do forty pushups? For the first day, you get up to five points for showing up. Then you do twenty pushups. Then another twenty and another and another set of twenty. Then we do suicide runs. Who on the team can do it under thirty now? The way I see it, the most anyone is going to get at first is seven. Maybe eight but nobody right now can get a ten point day in. We have a scrimmage on Tuesday. That’s where everyone gets their chance to score points. The more they work at practice, the more prepared they will be at the game. But I’ll be honest with you. We’re going to eat the first two weeks of games.”
“You think it will be that bad?”
“At least, if we get serious quickly, then we can start competing. But that’s all we can do, compete. These other teams, the ones that want to win too, the ones that work hard at their game, they’ll beat us if we don’t train to win. So I’ll ask you again. What do you want?”

“What’s your name again?”
“Rover Bernstein.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, you’ve known me for three weeks.”
“Rover Bernstein?”
“Yes.”
“Rover?”
“Yeah.”
“Bernstein?”
“Yeah fucker, Rover Bernstein.”
“Mind if I call you Afro?”
“Fuck, whatever, want to hear what I want?”
“Sure thing, Afro Blindgoggles.”
“Okay, Afro is fine, but blind goggles?”
“Can you see yourself in the mirror when you play a game?”
“Look, afro sounds like Afro Samurai, so I think of Sam Jackson. Blind goggles makes me sound like an invalid.”
“Tell you what, you can have your real name on the jersey.”
“We’re getting custom jerseys?”
“Yeah, why you surprised?”
“We’ve been getting the same jerseys every year. They’re all like five decades old. We’re getting them?”
“That’s the first thing you get.”
“Ah, come on.”
“Whole team gets them. What else?”
“I want to be cool.”
“How cool?”
“I want girls lining up to sleep with me.”
“Done.”
“How?”
“I’ll get you in the position to get laid. You’re on your own to land pussy.”
“Alright.”
“Last?”
“A car.”
“Everyone wants a car.”
“I’m everyone.”
“Well everyone has to be willing to take what I can get.”
“What can you get?”
“How many pushups you think equals a car?”

“So how you feeling?”
“Awful. I woke up at five this morning.”
“Nausea?”
“Yeah, north and south, can we just hurry up?”
“Sure. So what do you want?”
“A car, hundred dollars at Barnes and Nobles, and money for a dress.”
“What kind of dress?”
“I have to buy it myself.”
“Fair enough but where at?”
“This lingerie shop and leatherwork store.”
“Really?”
“Can I leave now?”

“You know Atty just ran past me, Coach?”
“Probably because she’s sick.”
“Eww. Why is she even in school today?”
“Hell if I know. Take a seat, Mr. uh…”
“Henry Downs.”
“Mr. Downs, so, what do you want out of this season?”
“I joined up so that I could lose weight.”
“What are you at now?”
“I weigh two sixty.”
Okay, he’s a five eight heavyweight.
“How about this, and this is only for you, for every two pounds you lose, that’s a point.”
“So if I lose thirty pounds…”
Still a heavy weight.
“Fifteen points.”
“Sixty pounds would be thirty points.”
Now you’re a light heavyweight.
“You know, I was doing the math just now, we have something like twenty games and fifty practices. This whole two thousand points thing is going to be easy.”
“You ever try losing weight before?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“You weigh two sixty now, right?”
“Right.”
“So did you weigh more last year?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you weigh more last year than you do now?” Speaking slowly and annunciating for him should help.
“I weighed less.”
“So you’ve gained weight?”
“Yes.”
“So how hard did you work at losing weight?” Got to time it to sound rhetorical. “Well, I can bet you two things. One, if you show up to practice and do what I tell you, you will lose pounds. Two, if you stop filling your body with grease and sugar and eat healthy, you will lose double the pounds you’re working off at practice.”
“You’re sure?”
“You’re talking to a boxer. I lost twenty pounds in two days to make weight. I sure as hell can get your ass slim in two months.”

“So, things, what things, and how many are legal?”
“I have a small list.”
“Three.”
“What?”
“Top three. One of them’s a car.”
“I already have a car.”
“You’re a junior.”
“I have parents with abandonment guilt.”
“Then sell it afterwards. Buy items four through whatever the fuck.”
“But I know I can break one hundred.”
“It’s looking like the first prize if forty. After that it’s between sixty and seventy five. Car is one hundred points. You want me to raise yours to two hundred and start it at a buck twenty five?”
“Can you do that?”
“I’m the one giving you this opportunity, I think I can.”
“Well I want what Atty is getting.”
“A dress, a car, and a gift certificate?”
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want an apartment.”
“Bullshit.”
“That’s my top thing.”
“That’s not a onetime thing. That’s maintenance, rent, and upkeep twenty four seven twelve fucking months a year. No fucking way.”
“Raise me to two hundred.”
“That’s a thousand by itself. What do you need a home for?”
“I want an apartment.”
“Same difference.”
“Not to me.”
“You got parents that will get you a place when you go to college.”
“No I don’t.”
“You’ll get a dorm or something. What college you going to?”
“I ain’t.”

“Get ready to die and be reborn.” Yell it so they can hear me. Start off with running. “Henry, move your fat ass, if I see you walking I’m gonna break my foot kicking you.” Running around the gym, as a team, as hard as they can, the trick is to actually push their limits. “Lisa, overtake Atty.”
“She’s ten feet ahead of me.”
Lisa is feeling it. She’s been breathing heavy for the last five minutes. Her pace is too consistent though. I need her to push herself. Hell, pushing her is my job.
“Atty don’t you dare make it easy for her. You all have ten more minutes of straight running. Welcome to Hell kids.”
As a way not being a total dick, I walk on the center line from side to side when the team passes by. Too early to cheer them on but if I start standing around then they all really start hating me.
“Two more minutes, Henry, keep up. If you start walking you might as well get changed and go home.” Henry feigns straight to the locker room and turns at the door. “Ha ha ha, Fattass.” Watch says one minute and thirty seconds.
“Okay, I want everyone to sprint till I say stop. Now sprint!”
Evan does it on time. Lisa and Atty are neck and neck. Fatty and Afro take their time going back and forth between jogging and fake running.
“You all know what fake running is? It’s when you move your arms forward and backward in a swinging motion, with your chin tucked in and your head arched back. It’s really the funny version of the terminator run. If you want to know what it looks like, look at Rover and Henry.” Everyone looks at Afro and Fatty who look at each other. Should give them bonus points for not stopping but they all have a hard time running and laughing at the same time.
“Stop running, that’s twenty minutes of straight running. Water up and meet me in the circle in five minutes.”
Watching them go to the fountains is hilarious. Afro and Henry get their first. I think they can breath and drink at the same time because for a full minute it’s them drinking. Lisa kicks Afro, who moves, while Fatty just falls on the ground in front of the fountain. Evan lets Atty in front of him and drags Fatty to the side. Lisa takes about three long drinks and comes to the circle. Evan gets a good drink and comes to the circle. Atty drinks water like Fatty and Afro but she comes to the circle. Afro and Fatty are getting seconds when I call them over.
“Okay, this is the points you’ve all been waiting for. We’re going one and one. One five four count of pushups and one suicide, five rounds of that, so let’s see what you got.”
First round, the girls have trouble but everyone gets a point on pushups. Yay, everyone’s first point of the season. After the fifth round, that’s everyone’s only point.

“Okay, here’s our problem. I don’t know how to get you all to play better. I can get you in shape. I can coach you in a game. But I don’t know how to get you more experienced. So here’s what we’re going to do: pure offense.”
“Pure offense?”
“Pure offense. You five are going to set the pace of the game. When someone scores on you, you score on them. If they score one hundred, you score one hundred and one points through pure offense, so here are the stations. Station one, spear chucking, when you’re here, I want you to shoot full court. From our basket to the opponents basket, get the ball, and shoot half court, and repeat the cycle. Station two. You will run up and down the sides of the court, passing with yourself.”
“How?”
“Use the wall. I’m looking for speed here kids. Station three, jump training. I need you all to jump over the garbage can.”
“It’s four feet tall.”
“If you clear four feet, you’re inches from the hoop. Evan, that’s dunking territory. If you can’t jump over, jump next to the can. Station four, I have five cones set up, you will dribble the ball slalom style in and around the cones. Again, speed is key and alternate your tracks. Last station, run a mile.”
“Where?”
“In the parking lot, four laps.”
“How long will it take to do a station?”
“You know that last station, the one where someone runs a mile?”
“Yeah?”
“As soon as they’re done.”
“What?”
“You heard me, now go do it.”

“Okay, it’s halftime, someone explain to me how we’re losing by four points.”
“Coach, they’re a school like ours. We have a shot of them in games usually.”
“Thanks Evan, what I meant was, if we’re down by two shots, then why haven’t we made our shots? We could be beating these guys.”
“We’re tired.”
It’s quiet in the locker room. We’ve been practicing for four days. It’s our second scrimmage. The score is twenty four them and twenty us. Why the fuck are we losing?
“No, your shots are not going in. I’ve been doing the math, everyone here has missed the three point shots they’re taking, making half of the layups and less of the shots in the paint. Afro and Lisa, you two are the ones with the most fouls. Afro, when you’re facing someone, don’t reach in. Wait for the pass to block it. Ten of their points are from fouls we could have avoided. Lisa, you’re turning the ball over to them every double dribble and every travel. Unless you two want me to see to it you stop in practice, cut this shit out. Atty, you’re our best shooter so far. I want you to just find an opening every time you can and someone will pass to you. Evan, keep the layups coming. We’re outshooting those guys two to one. I want to win this scrimmage by two to one. Henry, you’re doing great under the basket. Don’t let the pace drop. I want everyone on the other end of the court when he long passes it. Let’s see how these fuckers play when the pace is picked up.”
We leave the locker room and catch the back end halftime. I hand everyone a ball and tell them to start practicing their shots. I look over at the other bench. They may be a crappy team but they have ten guys on the bench at any time. Afro said they were playing shitty cause they were tired and I don’t blame them. I ran them raw this week with no rest yesterday. It’s a scrimmage so points don’t start yet towards the games. If they win here, it’s a confidence boost. It’s not much but it’s better than nothing and it sure as shit helps me help them. Evan has four layups but his foul line skills suck. Henry is the most winded, we need him to get better cardio. Atty is our best player. She shoots, she runs, she can defend, and the refs like her. Lisa would be just as good but she makes stupid mistakes. Afro Blindgoggles is a garbage man and a thief. He gets open for passes and can steal the ball. If only he would stop fouling people we’d be up six points.
“Hey, Evan and Afro come here.” Afro doesn’t hear me. “Yo, Rover, get over here.” Now he hears me. Evan and Afro come over to me; I direct their attention to the clipboard I’m drawing on. “Either of you ever see this done?”
“Yeah.”
“Looks fun.”
“Well, I want you two to try it out when we get the ball.”
I take my seat on the bench. The half alarm sounds. The team forms a circle and Evan lets everyone in on the plan. They break and it’s off to start. Cleveland has the ball. Long pass to the side line, one of their rested players makes a drive straight down the side channel, to the three point line, jumps, shoots, and it’s no good. Henry gets the ball. Dribbles the ball to the corner and passes to Lisa. Lisa sends it to Afro. Evan follows close as Afro dribbles it to the foul line. Two Cleveland players double team him into a box with a third player. Afro stops and slams the ball into the floor. The bounce gets passed the three guys, over the hoop, Evan is there, and Evan dunks the ball into the net.
“Way to go, that’s how we play.” I stand and yell. The team is excited. Evan is shocked. The other team is more shocked. Atty goes over to Evan to shake him. I can tell what she said, half statement half delightful surprise. “You can dunk ?”
Afro walks past me I let him know. “Good job, Bernstein, you did it perfect.”
“Thanks coach.”
“Now go win.”

“In other news, recent events occurred….”
“When I see you smile….”
“Come to Tom Rin….”
“Your member can…”
“In sports news, the football stadium today…”
“Oh oh hoh ho oh ooohoohooohoo…”
“Got mud on your face, you big disgrace, kicking your can all over the place”
Finally, music to celebrate to, I roll down the windows and up the volume on the radio.
“We won!” I scream. “We won by ten points. Yahoooo!”

“I’m gonna say it once. Congrats on the victory, team. You all did your part to win. Now the bad news. We all played decent against a sick horse. Us celebrating is like a ten year old who just beat a one legged man with a baseball bat celebrating a win. Historically, our school has always won against that school. I checked the numbers from years past. In fact, we scored three points less than last year’s team without eleven people on the bench. If we played Wilson again, we’d have lost by two hundred. So I’m going to address our problems right now.
“Evan, you need to dunk more. Don’t do a layup that can miss if you can drop the ball in the net by hand. You need to work on your foul shots. You all need to work on your foul shots. New rule: If anyone misses a foul shot, you lose two points.
“Atty, you can play ball. You can also hog the ball. Last night there were times you could have passed the ball. Dribbling into three dudes twice your size is not a good strategy. New Rule: If you hog the ball, I will take five points off your score. Basketball is a team sport and there’s not a single one of you strong enough to carry this team to victory for ninety minutes.
“Henry, you gassed out first in the game. I need you on the court one hundred percent of the game. If you don’t step up your practice regimen, you’re going to be the weakest link on the court against some heavy hitters.
“Afro Blindgoggles, I mean Rover, if you’re going to steal the ball, do it like Bogart and be smooth about it. Every time you reach and foul, we give out points. New Rule: If you foul, for every point they score, you lose some. If you foul out, you could score a hundred points in a game, that game is useless, never happened, no points whatsoever.
“Lisa, if you turn the ball over, you run extra. Other than that, you played as well as everyone else.
“Now, as it stands out, the team currently has eighty two points. Evan, you scored fifteen points and earned six at practice. Atty, you scored fifteen and earned six at practice. Lisa, you scored ten and earned six. Henry, you have lost ten pounds, that’s five points, earned four points at practice, and scored two points at the scrimmage. Henry, that’s eleven points. Afro, you scored ten points and have six points from practice. I am not giving you the hundred point bonus because it was a scrimmage and not a game. I am only giving you your points because you won. But remember this, you now can be rewarded negatively for bad performance. Now let’s work on diversity.

“Okay, everyone takes turns holding the tire. I on the other hand, will take this baseball bat. I will take this baseball bat, wrap tape around the center, and write a message for each of you.”
“What are we going to do?” Atty asked, mousy like.
“You’re going to hold this tire, while I swing this baseball bat, and try to read what I wrote.”
“How does this help us? What if we miss?” Lisa wondered aloud.
“It’s a big tire. I’m the one swinging. You guys hold it up. This is going to help you with your fear of other players.”
“What fear?” Afro asks.
“Afro and Henry, come here.” I hand Afro the ball and tell Henry to stand about five feet away. “Henry, don’t move an inch.” I whisper to Afro to charge into Henry as hard as he can. “Okay, go.”
Afro charges slow but put puts his shoulder into it nicely. Henry on the other hand steps out of the way with a lot of space between him and Afro.
“During the scrimmage, each of you did what these two just did. Afro didn’t go in aggressively and Henry moved out of the way. We need to fix this.”
“So swinging a bat at us is going to help us?”
“Swinging a bat at a tire, you reading the message I’m writing on the bat, yeah, that’s going to help you?”
“You’re just doing this for fun.” Evan said as he stood up and picked up the tire.
“This is going to be hilarious.”

“Now sprint till I say stop.”
They’ve been running for twenty minutes. Evan is looking the best. He’s been keeping a good strong pace for the last fifteen minutes. Atty and Lisa are going to be his best friends on the court. They’re the ones keeping pace together. Henry is improving. He’s not fake running thank God. Afro Blindgoggles isn’t the team’s weak link but there’s something strange about him. He’s improving but I never get that feeling he’s giving it his all. I used to get that feeling in the ring with guys that were trying to carry the fight. Like their game plan was to end the fight in the later rounds.
“Afro, pass the whole team.”
“Oh come on.”
“Do it.”
“Ohhh.”
Afro runs funny. He goose steps. That left leg of his goes into a front forward kick and slams down on the court and he leans forward to get a good burst of speed. It works because he gets to the front of the front of the pack even though everyone is sprinting.
“Okay stop. Water up and meet at the base for round 1.”
The team still waters up the same after three weeks, Henry and Afro are fish, Lisa and Atty get three good drinks, and Evan drinks one long take. After three weeks, nobody has done a twenty point pushup suicide combination. They’re getting better conditioned.
We lost our first game two weeks ago. We were outplayed. I overworked the team the day before. We lost by thirty points. But here’s the kicker: when they put their bench in to rest their starters, they don’t gain more of a lead. Up against starters, we suck. Up against the bench, we can score, close the gap, and not suck so much. We played two more games and it was the same story. They outplayed us and outbenched us. Historically, Doheny Tech has always lost to these schools by large amounts. So at least we’re par for the course.
“On three, two, one, go.” First suicide run, everyone does it at under thirty seconds.
“One, two, three, four, one.” Everyone does the first round of pushups.
“Three, two, one go.” Fatty and Afro don’t make it.
“One, two, three, four, two.” Lisa and Atty don’t make the twenty pushups.
“Three two one go.” Odd, only Henry fails the third.
“One, two, three, four, three.” Lisa, Atty, and Afro don’t make it.
“Three two one go.” Henry, Lisa, Atty, and Afro fail.
“One, two, three, four, four.” Everyone fails.
“Three, two, one, go.” Evan and Afro make it.
“One, two, three, four, five.” Afro makes it.
“Three, two, one, go.” Afro makes it.
“Water, everyone, now, Afro, can I get a word.” I walk towards my office and stand at the door. “Take a seat.”
“What is it coach?”
“What the fuck was that?”
“What?”
“You missed.”
“Huh?”
“You took a dive on pushups and suicides.”
“No.”
“How did you do it then?”
“I conserved my energy.”
“You fucking took a dive. You bailed so you could do better.”
“I wanted to do better.”
“So you fucking dived it!”
“What are you so pissed about?”
“You worked the game. How long were you doing it?”
“What?”
“When we did the twenty minutes of running, could you have ran harder?”
“Maybe? I don’t know. I ran as hard as everyone else.”
“Yeah, running as hard as everyone else ran isn’t good enough for me. I need everyone running as hard as they can. We need to push ourselves if we want to win.”
“Why, we’re tired in the games from all the overwork. We’re down three games and…”
Afro stops himself. What does he want to say? I guess it pretty quick.
“You want to practice and get the hundred points the easy way.”
“So? I’d earn the points either way.”
“Who else?”
“What?”
“Who else is doing this?”
“I don’t know.”
Bullshit.
“Who else is half assing it? Tell me now or I go out there and call off everything.”
“Nobody I know.”
“You know, you know how they play, tell me or else.”
“Look, they want to win. Lisa, Henry, they’re trying.”
“What about Evan and Atty?”
“They’re our best players. They do everything they can.”
Fine, have it your way.
“I respect you for not snitching but grab the tire.” I grab the bat, Afro grabs the tire, we both go back on the court. “Alright, changing gears, I have a message written on this bat and we’re not going to finish the rounds. Afro Blindgoggles, start running around the gym. Lisa, you’re up.”
“How long am I running?”
“Till practice ends.”
“That’s two hours.”
“If you give it your all, you can jog and then walk afterwards. Now run as hard as you can.”
I write the message on the bat. Lisa is holding the tire. Last time we did this, it took her a while to read the message. Now I’m going to make it easy on her. She holds the tire, I swing the bat, but I don’t pull back as fast as I did last time. She gets the message when her eyes bulge.
“Start running with Afro, Lisa. Atty, you’re up.”
I do the same. I don’t change the message. I do it again so that it sinks in with her.
“Start running with the other two. Fatty, get your fat ass over here.”
I swing the bat at the tire hard. The message is right in front of his face.
“Start running with everyone. Evan, get over here.”
“What’s the problem Coach Figg?”
“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, Evan. You can read the message I wrote everyone the way else did. Or you can look now.”
“I’m gonna be a team player and do it their way.”
“Here it is for real.”
I swing hard, hit hard, and pull back fast. I don’t think he got it. He looks annoyed.
“Coach, let me see that again.”
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
I swing, hit, and pull back faster. Evan’s getting pissed.
“Do it again.”
I do it. He throws the tire down. He’s really pissed.
“I misread it. Let me see the bat.”
“Here.”
“Oh, no, I read it right. It says, and I quote, you’re faking to win points.” Evan throws the bat on the tire.
“Hey. You’ll dent the floor.”
“How long have they been doing it?”
“I just found out.”
“Fuck.”
“So why do you think they did it?”
“To get a car.”
“You know why I don’t think you did that?”
“No, why?”
“Cause you’re the best one of us so far. You score consistently and you work hard. But I’m going to say this once.”
“What?”
“You’re the best of them. If I find out you halfass it, take a dive at any point, because you were the best one, I will break my foot on your ass and wait for you to shit out my shoe.”
“Got it, can I run with the team now?”
“Yeah, I’ll be in my office. Let me know when you’re all done running.”

Oh Maclearies. You play the Stones so well.
“Give me another Budweiser, Lenny.”
“Sure thing, Figg. How’s coaching going?”
“Team lost last week. We’re zero and three.”
“So what are you doing?”
“I need to get them to practice with a better team. I look at the parents and I realize that these kids are first generation players.”
“You won the scrimmage. When do you play them again?”
“Two weeks from now we see them again. We play them twice in the season.”
“That’s good. You should be better by then.”
“I know, but I can’t guarantee it.”
“You know what you should do?”
“No.”
“You should-“
“I mean no. I am not doing that.”
“He’s your best bet.”
“That’s what it is, a bet. He’s not going to have anything less than a sure thing.”
“Tell him that he can treat as a tax break.”
“No.”
“How about-“
“How about you guys donate to the team, we need new uniforms.”
“I can’t afford it.”
“Nobody can. The school gave us five year old jerseys. We haven’t even had photos yet.”
“If you need that, go to him.”
“What to do I tell him? My boss hired me specifically to go to him but I don’t want to do it.”
“Here’s your options: go to him and get what you need or not go to him and possibly lose.”
“We could lose either way.”
“Answer me this, how do you plan to get the cars?”
“Johnson’s auto scrap.”
“That’s cheap.”
“You know how many cars in there work? I could drive a good Benz out of there for three thousand.”
“You got three thousand?”
“I was going to ask him for a deal?”
“So he could bet on your team?”
“I don’t know. None of the kids are close to a hundred.”
“Go see him.”
“Fuck.” I hate this. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I’m going to see O’Brannon.

“You come to me on my daughter’s wedding day. You ask me for justice. But you do not call me the Godfather.”
If I hate comb-overs, I really hate skullets. If you’re bald, don’t let what you have left grow wild. A pony tail only looks good on chicks. Do the proper thing and visit your barber.
“I think you quoted it wrong.”
“But it was a good Brando, right?”
“It was a good impression.”
“That’s my favorite line in the book.”
“I always liked the part in the book where Lucy Mancini has her vagina tightened.”
“Really?”
“If we’re talking the book, yeah. The movie though, my favorite part is one of the last of the five family heads to get killed. Where you see the cop on the street, pulls out his gun, drops to one knee, and bang.”
“For me, the movie does not equal the book. The book is maybe the best Puzo novel.”
“I was always a fan of Rocky myself.”
“No Raging Bull?”
“Fuck Deniro.”
“Watch it now, you’re talking to a real Bobby D. fan.”
“Come on O’Brannon, there’s two kinds of actors. The kind that play the roles and the kind that plays themselves playing the roles.”
“He plays the roles just fine.”
“Now, Brando on the other hand…”
“That bloated motherfucker? Deniro has him beat.”
“I will put On The Waterfront up against Raging Bull any day of the week.”
“This from the man who likes Rocky over Raging Bull.”
“It’s the underdog story done right.”
“You and fucking underdogs.”
“You better believe it.”
No business man should have a skullet. To do business properly, you need a proper suit and tie. I show up to games in a suit and tie. I don’t have a skullet and I don’t do this whole turtleneck sweater deal. No fashion designer is having me wear a turtleneck at a game with a suit. You’d have to be criminal to call that a proper business suit.
“So about your underdogs.”
“I’m glad you think they’re underdogs.”
“As opposed to losers?”
“As opposed to hopeless.”
“Well with anything being possible, you learn about faith. Now, what do you want me to do for you?”
“Be our guardian angel.”
“How so?”
“For a start, we have yet to get new uniforms or have our team photos taken.”
“That would be nice.”
“We also have the problem of a real lack of guidance.”
“That’s your job.”
“I do my job. The problem is that, no matter how hard I push their physical training, I can’t give them experience.”
“How would you do it if you could?”
“Honestly, find the biggest challenge and play them. Hell, any neighborhood league could whip them. I look at these kids and I see a love for the sport that kept them in. The parents don’t come to the games. The coaches they had must have been terrible. Someone taught them how to play but never followed through.”
“Bullshit, you promised them all cars.”
Fucking criminal son of a bitch whore master piece of shit cocksucker asshole.
“Lenny?”
“Half the fucking world knows. Vegas? I damn near shit myself laughing so hard.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.”
“You think it worked?”
“You haven’t lost by one hundred twice.”
“When you said that half the fucking world knows, is it the half that fucks me over?”
“No. But I can’t be your guardian angel.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way but that’s a relief and a blow.”
“Tell you what, I always liked you being honest. You never took a dive but you could throw a fight.”
“I never threw a fight ever.”
“No, you punched a guy in the nuts three times.”
“He was a prick.”
“All four of them?”
“Weren’t they brothers?”
“Here’s what I can do. We have a mutual acquaintance. More than one, in fact, so why don’t I make you a deal. Our friend in common is one of them lymie fuckers. Them lymie fuckers have that pussy betting that their queen approves of. They count things like horse shoes and hand grenades, its being close they like. I’m going to write a number down every time before a game. They got these random number things on computers. I won’t know until I get one. If your team can make the spread, our lymie friend is going to make a deposit. That deposit money is yours but it’s his to give you.”
“If our friend in common should go on vacation without anyone knowing?”
“Then we mail the queen his balls.”