Game Face
Page 3
“Right.”
“This is not only a problem for Colin. It will also become a problem for you.”
Jay sighed. “Right again.”
3
Team Captain
Jay and the rest of the players got into warm-up action as soon as they entered the gym. “Focus on what’s weak and make it strong,” Coach Willis always said.
“Good work, David. That’s the stuff. Brendan, how’s the knee? Bit better? Good. What’s with the lopsided posture, Cory? Square up. Square up.” Coach Willis wandered around the gym, watching layups and rebounds, checking on quick chest passes, and noting the pace of guys who jogged the perimeter. “Lookin’ good, guys. Lookin’ good.” Finally, he called everyone together. “Okay! Gimme a circle over here!”
Everyone stopped the action, caught the basketballs, and gathered around their coach.
“We’ve had a couple weeks of tryouts and now we’re ready to move forward,” Coach Willis announced. “First thing, I want to thank all of you for putting in your best efforts. Showing me your best basketball. I appreciate that. There are a lot of great basketball players for me to choose from — more than there’s room for on the Rockets A team. You already know that. But I expect to see everyone in front of me right now at all our games, whether you’re on the basketball court or up in the bleachers cheerin’ us on.”
Everyone clapped to show they were with the coach all the way.
“In the morning, I’ll post the team roster outside my office. You know the routine. After school tomorrow, the Rockets will come together as a team for the first time this season. You’ll be told your positions and uniforms will be handed out. Then we’ll choose our team captain. From there, we start work on landing our spot at the regionals.”
Jay glanced up at the championship banners. He thought about the promise he’d made to himself and pictured one of the blank spaces on the wall occupied at the end of the basketball season. The roster to be posted outside the coach’s office the next morning would have only ten names on it. There were almost twenty guys sitting there on the floor with Jay. Coach Willis would use his strongest players in the starting line, but he also had to keep an eye on the future when senior guys moved on to high school. He’d need to make sure there were new players in the mix, too.
In the first practice, Tyler had been singled out for team awareness. Jay figured that Coach Willis was thinking of Tyler for point guard. A point guard was responsible for calling plays and getting the ball into the opponent’s territory. It was like being the coach on the floor. But Tyler was the best rebounder and defender. No one could stop him under the basket. That might put him in number 4 position, power forward.
Colin could be picked for position 1, point guard. He had the ball-handling skills. With Colin at 1 and Tyler at 4, maybe — just maybe — Jay could be picked for 5, centre. Coach Willis might focus on Jay’s shooting skills and strong defensive plays . . . and overlook his height.
***
A crowd was already crammed around the roster posted outside Coach Willis’s office when Jay got there the next morning. He didn’t need to ask guys if they made the cut or not — their faces said it all. As Brendan passed by, he said something about how he probably didn’t make it because of his knee injury. Cory gave David a high-five, then walked over to Jay and buddy-punched his arm. “See you at practice!”
Jay carefully read through the whole list. Near the bottom was Kyung’s name. He looked around, but Kyung was nowhere in sight.
When Jay walked into homeroom, Kyung was at his desk, double-checking his math homework.
“Hey, Kyung! Congrats on making the team!”
“What? I made the team?”
“Didn’t you check the roster?”
“I . . . I did not believe Coach Willis would pick me.”
“Come on. Let’s go take a look. You’re playing for the Richmond Rockets!”
A few guys were still standing beside the coach’s bulletin board, reading the roster. Jay pointed at the name second from the bottom, Yi, Kyung. Kyung grinned. Then he carefully reread the list, running his finger down the page. His expression suddenly turned serious.
“What’s with the downer face?” Jay asked.
“I don’t know if I can play my best basketball. Not like I played in Korea.”
“Don’t sweat it. That’s where practice comes in. It takes a while for any team to gel. And then — wham! They’re there! A solid basketball team on the way to being champions!”
***
There was a new energy in the gym as the Richmond Rockets came out of the locker room to start their first team practice. Jay began running laps, concentrating on his posture, his breathing, the rhythm of his sneakers on the polished floor. By the end of this practice, he’d once again have his white and blue Rockets’ uniform. He was aware of an invisible thread of tension in the gym — no one knew yet which position they’d be assigned.
Coach Willis stopped the warm-up and divided the new team for the first scrimmage. “Green against blue. Grab a pinny when I call your name. Greens: Tyler, Colin, Jay, Steve, and Kyung. Blues: Cory, Finn, Randall, Dave, and Mitchell.”
As the guys tied on their pinnies, Coach Willis shouted out their positions. Though these weren’t permanent spots, they would indicate how the coach was thinking about his new team. Everyone listened up. “Greens. Tyler, you’re point guard, position 1. Kyung, I want you in position 2, shooting guard. Jay you’re number 3 forward. Steve you’re number 4 forward. And Colin, you’re number 5, centre. Blues —”
Jay stopped listening. Position 3 — small forward. Lots of players who held the position weren’t small, but Jay figured he was placed there more because of his height than because of his ball handling or his scoring. But at five feet, seven inches, he wasn’t actually the smallest guy in the gym. He tried to remind himself that this was just a scrimmage and not the final lineup.
Colin’s height had landed him at centre. Tyler did a great job as centre last season, but maybe the coach was testing new ground. Point guard was a good position for Tyler. He knew his game and could easily call the plays, especially for offence. And his attitude wasn’t negative like Colin’s.
Kyung tied his green pinny and adjusted the safety strap on his glasses. He looked over at Jay and smiled. He didn’t seem worried about where Coach Willis placed him. He was just glad to be playing for the Rockets.
During the scrimmage, Coach Willis dissected every move: Why did that bounce pass go wide? How many seconds was the ball blocked? Where was the receiver? Who called the play? What happened to defence? Who was under the basket for that rebound? Someone remind us where your feet should be for a left-hand shot.
A couple of times, the coach switched up positions. Tyler and Colin traded spots and Kyung was given Steve’s forward position. But not once was Jay moved. As centre position began to fade from his hopes, he tried to think positively about playing forward. When he scored a three-point basket from the right corner, he couldn’t miss the look on Coach Willis’s face — maybe scoring would determine his team job after all.
At the end of practice, when all the players were sitting on the floor, Coach Willis checked his notes. He jotted down something and scribbled out something else. He tapped his clipboard thoughtfully. “Well, guys, here’s our starting lineup: point guard, Tyler; shooting guard, Jay; number 3 forward, Mitchell. Randall, you’re number 4 forward; Colin, you’re centre.”
Jay looked from Coach Willis to Mitchell and back to the coach again. Didn’t he mean Jay as forward and Mitchell as shooting guard?
But the coach didn’t backtrack. “Finn, you’re our sixth man. And the rest of you’ll get lots of game action. No one’s a bench-warmer on this team.”
“Uh, Coach?” said Jay. “Can I ask a question?”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I mean . . . I played forward all through practice and —”
“And now you’re playing guard. Is there a problem with that?”
Jay took the cue from the tone of Coach Willis’s voice. “No. No problem.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear. Anyone else have questions?” He waited. “No one?”
“How much switching up are you planning on doing?” asked Randall.
“Depends. This isn’t pro basketball. I want you guys to get experience all over the court so you can be confident no matter where you are. Bottom line: we want our best players where we need them.” He looked around. “Any more questions? If not, let’s move on. Steve and Finn, get the box of uniforms out of my office, please.”
Coach Willis called out names and numbers, checking them off as players came forward to get their uniforms. He called Jay to pick up seventeen, his old number. At least something would stay the same.
“You guys know that last year’s players were responsible for washing those uniforms at the end of the season, making sure they were in the best condition. No put-down intended, but I recommend you wash them again.”
That got a few laughs. As they picked up their jerseys, a couple of guys covered their noses as if the jerseys reeked.
“One final piece of business before we call it a day,” said Coach Willis. “Team captain. Most of you guys know we follow the democratic process in choosing our team captain — nominations, secret ballot, and the guy with the most votes wins. And it’s no popularity contest. Idiots can be popular. You guys know the qualities our team captain needs to have. Let’s hear them. Shout them out.”
“Good communicator!”
“Leads by example!”
“A people person!”
“Someone who hustles!”
“Sets a good example!”
“Somebody already said that.”
“Makes the right decisions!”
“He’s someone who’ll listen!”
“Knows when to kid around and when to be serious!”
“All great qualities,” said Coach Willis. “Anything else?”
“He isn’t afraid to call guys on stuff they do wrong,” said Randall. “On or off the court.”
“That’s a good reminder, Randall.” The coach glanced around, making eye contact with each player. “When you walk out that gym door this afternoon, you are a member of the Richmond Rockets A basketball team. You represent us and your school, like Randall said, on and off the court. I’ve always held my team to that standard and I expect your team captain to do the same.” He paused to let the weight of his words sink in. “Time for nominations.” He set up a flip chart and scrawled TEAM CAPTAIN across the top of the page.
Tyler raised his hand. “I nominate Colin.”
“I nominate Tyler.” Colin grinned.
“Not so fast,” said Coach Willis. “Colin, do you accept the nomination?”
“Sure. Why not?” He smirked as if winning the vote was a no-brainer.
The coach wrote Colin’s name on the chart paper. “Tyler?”
“I’ll pass. Colin’s our guy for captain.”
“We have a democratic process here, Tyler. That’ll decide who’s the guy for captain,” said Coach Willis, frowning. “So let’s hear some other nominations. Come on, guys. We should have three or four names here.”
“Mitchell,” someone called out.
“Okay with you, Mitchell?” He wrote the second name on the list when Mitchell nodded.
Kyung raised his hand. “I have a nomination.” He stood up as though he was about to make a speech. “For team captain, I nominate Jay Hirtle.”
This caught Jay off guard. It wasn’t just the nomination. There was something in the way Kyung spoke — so serious. He seemed absolutely sure that Jay was the best guy to lead the team to victory . . . and that Colin wasn’t.
Colin was scowling at Kyung.
“What about it, Jay?” asked Coach Willis. “Do you accept?”
“Uh . . . well . . .” Jay wasn’t sure he could actually do the job. First, there was the complication of being back with the Rockets after playing for the Cougars. The rest of the team might not be sure they could count on him. And then there was the complication of Colin and the problems he’d likely stir up. It wouldn’t be easy being team captain.
Kyung watched Jay, not smiling, not moving.
“Yes,” said Jay, finally. “I accept.”
Kyung remained standing until Jay’s name was written on the list.
“Any more names to add here?” Coach Willis tapped the marker against his palm. “That’s it, then? Okay.” He drew a line under the three names. “There’s a bunch of pencils on my desk. How about getting them, Cory? David, tear this paper into ballots and give one to each player. And remember, this vote’s secret. Talk about it all you want later, but right now, make your own decision and write it on your ballot.”
When the votes were collected, Coach Willis took them into his office and closed the door.
Kyung sat beside Jay. “Guess who I voted for,” he joked.
“Thanks,” said Jay. “For the nomination, too. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“You are fair. You communicate. You listen.”
Coach Willis came out of his office. “Okay, guys. It’s a close race here but we have a decision. I’m not giving out numbers because numbers don’t matter. Mitchell, Jay, and Colin — thank you for stepping forward to run for team captain. A nomination is an achievement. Congratulations to all three of you.”
Everyone applauded.
“And now, the guy who’ll push you to do your best, who’ll hear you out when times are tough, who’ll set a good — no, scratch that — who’ll set a great example both on and off the court. Your new team captain for the Richmond Rockets is . . . Jay Hirtle!”
4
On And Off The Court
“Go tell your grandfather your news about being team captain, Jay,” said his dad as they arrived at Gramp’s. “He’s probably over on Moyle’s wharf.”
“I’m going, too!” said Sam. “And Rudy!”
“Put him on his leash, then.”
From the lane leading down the hill to the wharf, they could see Gramp stacking lobster traps on the edge of the wharf beside Moyle’s Cape Island boat. The two fishermen had been neighbours all their lives, though Gramp was older than Moyle and was now retired from fishing.
Moyle’s only son, Simon, came out of the fish store where all the gear was kept — barrels for bait, coiled ropes hanging on hooks beside jiggers and gaffs, bright yellow waterproofed coats and pants, large rubber boots.
“Hi, Jay. Sam. Hey, Rudy, how’s it goin’ fella?” Simon bent down to give Rudy a strong rub behind his ears and along his thick neck. “There’s a good dog.”
“Not long till lobster season,” said Jay.
“Lots to do before then. Of course, nothing’ll stop your grandfather from helping out. Misses the work, for sure. And having his own boat. We’ll get him out there on the water with us, one of these calm days.”
“Oil calm days,” said Sam.
Simon laughed. “You’re sounding just like your grandfather.”
They walked out to the end of the wharf, Rudy tugging on his leash the whole way.
“Looks like we got some reinforcements comin’ to help out,” said Gramp as he put another lobster trap in place.
Moyle stepped up from the boat and onto the wharf.
“Jay’s got something super, super big to tell, Gramp!” said Sam.
“Oh?”
“Don’t exaggerate, Sam. It’s no b
ig deal.”
They all looked at Jay, waiting.
“It’s . . . well, it’s just about being captain. For our basketball team.”
“They voted, and Jay won captain!” If Sam had had a megaphone, his cheering couldn’t have been louder.
“Now that’s awful good news,” said Gramp. “Captain. Well, well.”
“Congratulations there, son,” Moyle said.
“Very important job,” said Simon. “Just like being a captain of one of these boats.”
“Lotta responsibility,” said Gramp, nodding seriously.
Jay looked down at the weathered boards of the wharf. Responsibility wasn’t something he needed to be reminded about. Since yesterday’s vote, that word kept floating up into his mind and clouding him with doubts.
“But don’t go fallin’ in love with the sound of your own voice barking out orders,” Moyle said.
“Oh, now, look who’s talking,” said Simon. “Dad’s got more bark than that dog has. I’m telling you guys, you haven’t been out on the water with this one here. It only gets quiet when he takes a nap, and that doesn’t last longer than ten minutes.”
“Try to teach my son everything I know about this business, and look at the thanks I get,” said Moyle. “One thing I’ll tell you about being captain, whether it’s a boat captain or a basketball captain — it’s not going to be what you say or what you do that’ll cause trouble. It’ll be someone else’s idea about what you say or do.”
“Now that’s the truth, sure as I’m standing here,” said Gramp.
Jay picked up a short piece of braided twine, bright turquoise and frayed at the end. He spun it between his thumb and finger, watching the unravelled strands whirl. It didn’t take too much imagination to see how the chunk of twine was like a warning to him as team captain. If he wasn’t careful, his team could unravel and things would just spin out of control.
“When you’re ready to bark out some orders, Captain Dad, let’s get some more work accomplished before those clouds open up and dump rain down on us.”