by Alison Mello
She laughs. “That you did. Come snuggle me so I can get some sleep. We have to work tomorrow.”
“That we do.”
It’s game day. Ethan is bouncing off the walls with excitement. Amber thinks it’s hilarious, but he’s driving me insane. All he does is bounce the ball. “Stop, Ethan!”
“Can’t help it, Dad! I’m so excited to play.” He dribbles the ball between his legs.
I roll my eyes. “I get you’re excited, but enough with the ball.” He stops for a moment and patiently waits for the rest of his team to arrive. He’s looking pretty sharp in his team uniform. Their colors are red, white, and blue. Mainly because most of our local schools use those colors and those are the colors for the Wizards. The top is reversible for home and away.
“Ethan, you should be watching this game,” Amber calls him over. “Watching is how you learn.”
The away team is losing by sixteen points. That’s a huge lead at this age. “Learn your opponents.” She points to a small blond boy. “He’s a ball hog. He hates to pass it off, but he’s also their leading scorer.” He nods, listening to what she has to say. “You see that bigger kid, number ten.” She pauses. “He has no shooting skills, so they won’t pass to him. You can leave him open all day.”
“I’m quite impressed, Amber.”
She shrugs. “I played for a long time. My coaches taught me a thing or two.” She looks at Ethan. “Some of it is common sense as you get older. You learn with experience.”
The buzzer sounds, ending the game before ours. The two teams quickly clear the court. Trystan comes running in with DJ just as we’re heading in. “Sorry we’re late. Stella isn’t feeling well.”
“Do you need to be with her? We can bring DJ home for you,” I offer.
“Nah. She’s laying down. She’s bummed she’s missing the first game but wanted me to be here with him.”
“Okay.”
Amber gives the boys a pep talk. It’s funny because I’m the head coach, but she’s totally taken over, and I don’t mind one bit. She’s in her element it’s wonderful to see. The boys take the court with Trystan to begin warming up. They’re full of excitement for the big game.
The ref blows the whistle and calls the coaches over. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Are you ready to get started?” The three of us nod, and the two other coaches nod. “Okay, timekeepers are set up and ready to go. You have approximately two minutes before the start of the game.”
We call the boys over and make sure they’re aware of their positions. We have three substitutes we need to rotate throughout the game. We’re required to make sure each child plays a minimum of four minutes per eight minute quarter.
Mason is the tallest on the team, so he is our center. The whistle blows, and the ball goes up in the air. He tips it first, giving us the ball. The boys dribble it up the court, but the ball stolen. The other team takes off with it and scores two.
The entire first quarter of the game we’re dominated by the other team. Not because we can’t shoot, but because they keep stealing the ball. Amber finally calls timeout, and the team comes running over. “Boys, you need to pass the ball. Trying to dribble it up the court is not going to work.” She grabs the clip board and draws it out for them, reminding them when to chest pass and when to bounce pass.
The boys return to the court, and the whistle is blown, but they’re not changing or doing anything Amber told them to do, so the ball is stolen from them time and time again. By the time they finally start to get it, the first half is over. We’re losing by ten.
“Listen up, boys.” I have them gather around in a circle. “We can still make a comeback. You need to remember a few things. One, jump up for the ball on rebounds, don’t let the ball come down to you, and two, pass the ball.”
The ref blows the whistle, and we send them out. Mason gets the ball and passes it off to DJ who takes a shot and scores two. The boys go back and forth stealing the ball. We score one more time before they manage to score.
Amber is coaching from the sideline with so much passion it makes Trystan laugh. “Girl is serious about her basketball.” He slaps me on the chest.
“If you think I’m saying anything you’re crazy.”
He laughs. “I don’t blame you.”
Suddenly my heart stops. A kid who has been fouling the entire game nocks Ethan to the floor. He somehow avoids hitting his head, but it sends me into a panic. “Dude, are you okay?”
“Yeah, he’s been doing that all game,” Ethan complains.
“You get two from the line,” the ref tells him. He nods and climbs off the floor.
Ethan lines up while the refs help the kids take their appropriate spots. “Take your first shot.” He exhales a deep breath, bounces the ball, and takes the shot scoring.
“Way to go, Ethan! One more just like that!” Amber shouts to him. The gym is quiet as he focuses.
Ethan takes his second shot but the kid who fouled him jumped early, distracting him, so he gets one more chance. The ref warns him to hold the line until the ball is out of his hands. The kid nods with a cocky grin on his face.
Ethan takes the shot and scores again. We’re now losing by four, but there’s only four minutes left in the game. DJ steals the ball and dribbles it down, passing it off to Jack. Jack takes the shot and scores. It’s a tight game, and the boys are playing hard. I’m proud of them for not giving up. The buzzer sounds, and the game is over. We’ve lost by two points.
The boys go by slapping each other’s hand and saying good game. When I get to the coach, he shakes my hand. “Your son has his dramatics on point. I’ll remember that the next time we play.”
“My son is getting over a concussion. His fall had nothing to do with dramatics, and you know it.” The guy’s jaw drops. The nerve of some people. I walk away not caring to hear if he has anything else to say.
“Who’s hungry?” I ask my team. I emailed the parents, inviting the team out for pizza for lunch. It’s something Trystan used to do with the boys after a baseball games, and I thought it was a great idea.
They all cheer. “Okay, I’ll see you guys there.”
We all head over to the pizza parlor. When we get there, I remind the man behind the counter that I had called earlier to place an order for the team. He tells me that they’re in the oven and that someone will be over with some pitchers of soda.
“What did that coach say to you at the end of the game?” Amber asks.
He basically said my kid faked the fall for the foul shot. Amber’s jaw drops. “What a jerk!”
“What did you tell him?” Trystan asks.
“I told him the truth. That he was recovering from a concussion and that he knew damn well it wasn’t dramatics. The guy didn’t know what to say.”
The pizza is delivered to the table. The boys are so excited they jump up and hurry over. “Enjoy, boys,” the pizza man says.
They form a line, grabbing paper plates and pizza. The boys are all talking about the game and the kid who kept fouling everyone. I decide it’s time to make this a learning experience when I hear one of the boys say next time we play them he’s going to foul him so he can see how it feels.
“Listen up, boys.” They get quiet so they can hear what I have to say. “This conversation is going in a bad direction. Fouling another player in retaliation is not good sportsmanship and certainly won’t make you a winner,” I tell them as they eat. “Don’t judge this boy. You don’t know what he’s being taught. I will not teach you to cheat. Instead, I want to teach you to rise up, and be better than that. You take your loss well, knowing you played fair and followed the rules. This league is about improving your game, not winning. It’s about building your skills and learning to work as a team.” They nod, taking in what I had to say. “Do you want a win?”
“Yeah!” they all shout.
“Then work hard in practice this week, and continue to give it your all on the court. That’s how you win.” I grab some pizza, and they c
ontinue eating.
Some of the parents come over to thank me for talking with them about the situation. “Nice speech,” Briggs says.
“Thanks, man. That kid was a punk, but I won’t let my players be like that.”
“I get that it happens in error from time to time. The kids are young, but it appeared he was fouling on purpose.” Misty shakes her head.
“Honestly, I think the first time was done in error. When he got away with it, I think he started doing it on purpose. I’m more disappointed in the coach. He tried to say that Ethan was being dramatic.” It really boils me that he would say something like that, especially since his player had fouled us multiple times. I believe it was his son, so I’m not surprised he would defend him.
We all hang out for a bit longer and then clean up so we can enjoy what’s left of our Saturday.
I’m really excited for tonight’s class. With everything that’s been going on in Ethan’s life, we thought he needed some positive time with us, so we decided to bump up the cooking class and add Ethan to it.
He’s been helping me in the kitchen on Sundays with our weekly meals and has taken a real liking to cooking. Plus, Vincent told me he doesn’t want Ethan to be like him and have no idea how to cook. It helps that he seems to enjoy it. Now we just have to teach him to do it correctly.
Our class is on Friday evenings which works out perfectly because Ethan doesn’t usually get homework over the weekend, and if he does, he can do it after his game. It’s a three-week class that will start with basics and simple things, and by the last class we’ll be making a full meal.
We pull up to the culinary center. The school isn’t all that big, but the lot is nearly full. We all climb from the car and head in. We need to check-in since this is our first class, and that requires you to be there a little early. The great thing about this class is all three of us are cooking, and we all get to eat what we make, which is wonderful since we’re starving.
“Good evening,” a short woman standing at a podium says.
“Hello, my name is Amber. The three of us are signed up for tonight’s class.”
She looks at a clipboard. “And your names?” She looks at the men.
“I’m Ethan.”
“And I’m Vincent.”
“Got it. You’re all going to be with Chef Cindy for the next three weeks. Please follow me.” We follow her down the hall to a room. She introduces us to our instructor, and we take a seat at a stainless-steel countertop. This room is incredibly cool. There are multiple stove tops set up around the room so the teacher can easily help her students, and she can have multiple people cooking at one time.
“Good evening, folks. My name is Chef Cindy, and I’ll be your instructor. We have a few more students joining us, and then we’ll get started. Since you three are learning together, I’m going to put you over here.” She points to a set of stoves. “The young man can work on a stovetop with his mother. That will save me some space.” I’m about to correct her when Ethan looks at me and winks. I wink back, and we drop it. “This will not be a full class, but honestly that’s the way I prefer it.”
Two more people come in. “Great, come in,” Cindy says. “One more and we can get started.” She discovers that they’re a couple as well, so she puts them on one stove top like Ethan and I.
The last person arrives right as class is to begin. She hurries her in and puts her on a stove.
“Okay, let’s get started. My name is Chef Cindy, and I’ll be your instructor. Tonight, we are going to be working on a simple dish, but it will require dicing. I ask that you keep a close eye on the young man,” she says, looking directly at me.
“I will.” I place myself between the two of them because little does she know it’s really Vincent who needs watching.
She nods and continues, “You all need to learn to handle a knife properly. Cutting is a big part of cooking. There’s chopping, dicing, and mincing. Tonight, we are going to learn dicing.”
She tells us about the aprons under our work stations, so we each grab one and put them on. Ethan has a huge grin on his face, and it melts my heart. Vincent, on the other hand, looks extremely nervous.
We’re learning our way around our workstations as she instructs us to pull cutting boards and knives from various areas. “Who has some cooking experience?” I raise my hand as does one other woman. “Okay, good. You can help your partners a little.
“Now, in the fridge are large bowls with all the ingredients you need to cut up.” She ushers us toward a huge walk-in refrigerator. Sure enough, there are large bowls filled with peppers, onions, and mushrooms. “You three will share one bowl.” She hands us one. “There’s plenty in there for all of you.” She hands the other to another woman. “You three will share this one.”
We take our bowl to the table. “The vegetables have already been washed. This class has no food allergies, and despite what you think you like and don’t like, I would like for you to try the dishes as they are being prepared. You may surprise yourself.” Ethan makes a funny face when he sees the mushroom. A vegetable I don’t use all too often.
She has the class turn to the center table and watch as she demonstrates the proper way to gut a pepper and then cut it. She then demonstrates the easiest way to peel an onion, and then the mushrooms are easy.
When she’s done, the three of us get to work cutting the vegetables the way she suggested. As we’re cutting them we pour them into the large bowl. She has us add two tablespoons of olive oil and some fresh garlic which she minced for us while we were working on our vegetables. We then take a spoon and mix the ingredients so they’re well covered.
“Now, I want you to put your pans on medium heat. The biggest mistake people make is thinking they need to have the pan on high. You’re wrong. That’s how you burn stuff. Medium heat. Give it a few minutes to warm up and divide your vegetables between the three of you.”
We do as she instructs. I hand Ethan a wooden spoon, and we begin mixing the vegetables in the pan. “I’m going to walk around with some small bowls of cut up chicken. I only had you cut the vegetables tonight for sake of time, but it’s important that you ensure you’re cutting chicken on a clean cutting board, and you wash it immediately following so you so not end up with salmonella.”
She puts a bowl down beside the three of us and tells us to continue cooking the vegetables until the onions are almost translucent. “What does translucent mean?” Ethan whispers to me.
“You can almost see through them. Onions lose their color as you cook them.”
“Oh,” he says, mixing his vegetables.
“Once your vegetables are almost done, you can add your chicken.” She’s walking around the room. “Good job, young man.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Ethan is beaming with pride.
“Your flame is too high,” she says to Vincent, lowering his.
She places one clean bowl down for each of us and tells us to empty the contents of our pan into the bowl. We then add a little oil to our pan. She walks around checking everyone’s pans. “You used too much. You do not need a ton of oil. The pan is already hot, and you’ll only burn your quesadilla. You want to crisp it and melt the cheese, not burn it.”
She takes Vincent’s pan and dumps some of the oil, giving it back to him when she’s satisfied. “Okay, now I want you to put one of your tortillas in the pan, put a little of the cheese I gave you, add the veggies and chicken mixture, a little more cheese, and then top it off with another tortilla.” We all do as instructed and are now waiting for it to cook.
“This shouldn’t take too long to cook. The veggies and chicken are hot, so it will help melt the cheese. You do have to flip it, and that is something that will take practice.” She comes up to Ethan. “I’m going to demonstrate with yours.” Ethan nods and steps aside. She takes a large spatula, slips it under the quesadilla, and flips it like it was nothing.
“You could have done mine.” Vincent sheepishly looks at the instructor. He
’s struggled a little tonight, but he’s putting in a good effort. She looks at him with laughter in her eyes but cuts him a break and flips it.
“Thank you.”
“Give it a try, people!”
I flip mine, but since the pan is not all that big, I nearly miss. “Not bad,” she says from behind me. This place is smelling amazing. My stomach is grumbling so bad, I can’t wait to dig into this.
“Okay. Slip your dinner onto the plate I’ve provided, and let’s sit down.” We all take our plate and gather at the table that now has forks, knives, and napkins on it.
The three of us sit together and dig into our meal. It is absolutely delicious.
“This is so good,” Ethan says.
“It is, isn’t it.” I take another bite. “And you made a funny face at the mushrooms.”
“They look weird. I didn’t think I’d like them. What do you think, Dad?”
“It’s good. I’m glad you learned how to make this. You can cook us dinner one night.” He pats his son on the back.
“This was fun.” Ethan puts the last of the quesadilla in his mouth.
“The fun’s not over. Now you all get to help clean up.” Cindy laughs. “Vincent, you and Charlie can take out the trash. Ethan, you and your mom can do the dishes, and, Veronica, you can wipe down the tabletop and counters.”
We all agree and jump up to do our assigned jobs. She shows Vincent and Charlie where the trash goes. I have a feeling that will always be their job since it’s dark out and the trash is outside. When they get back Charlie helps Veronica with the table tops, and Vincent helps us with the dishes.
It doesn’t take us long before everything is cleaned up and back to the way it was. “Well, what did you all think of your first class?” Cindy asks.
“I loved it!” Ethan says excitedly.
“Good. There’s a kids camp over the summer. Maybe you can come back for that?” She winks at Ethan.
He looks at me hopeful. “I don’t see why not.”