Game Changers--A Benchwarmers Novel

by John Feinstein

  Andi liked hanging out with Eleanor and Maria. They knew their hoops. And they could play.

  “Be a long wait till Monday,” Maria said.

  “Seriously?” Andi said. “You worried?”

  Maria grinned. “No,” she said. “I may not be Sue Bird, but I know there aren’t any guards out there who can guard me.”

  She was right. Andi knew the three of them were a lock to be on the list Monday morning. Coach Josephson shouldn’t need to consult a book to figure that out.

  * * *

  Jeff wasn’t worried, either. And unlike Andi, he didn’t have to worry about whether his coach understood basketball.

  Coach C was clearly a lot more comfortable in charge on the basketball court than he had been as an assistant on the soccer field.

  It was apparent to Jeff on Friday that he was pretty certain who was going to make the team—with the exception, perhaps, of the last one or two spots.

  Even so, he was online at eight o’clock and found himself squirming a little when there was no sign of the link.

  He sat and stared at the screen for about a minute and then went to a sports website and tried to read a story about Villanova’s chances to have a successful basketball season. He was a fan of all six of Philly’s Division I basketball teams—the Big Five plus Drexel—but Villanova had been the dominant team in the city recently, winning two national championships in three years.

  He got halfway through the story and, at 8:04, having vowed to wait until 8:05, went back on the Merion Middle School website. And there it was: Boys’ Basketball Team Roster.

  Finally.

  He hit the link and there were the twelve names. The list was alphabetical. Jeff Michaels was the ninth name. The second name—sadly—was Ron Arlow. Jeff had known that was coming but had held out a tiny bit of hope that Coach C and Coach B might decide Arlow’s talent was outweighed by his ability to divide the locker room.

  Jonathan Andrews

  Ron Arlow

  Eric Billings

  Marco Bonventre

  Danny Diskin

  Manny Friedman

  Camden James

  Tate Matthew

  Jeff Michaels

  Crew Tayler

  Mike Roth

  Tavon Washington

  Of course, the truth was, the locker room wasn’t divided—he and Arlow were divided.

  Jeff sighed, then started to text Andi. Before he could hit Send, his phone pinged and there was a text from her.

  Just saw it. Know it wasn’t in doubt, but congrats. I have to wait till Monday.

  Jeff wiped out the text he had started and wrote back: No worries, you know you’ll make it.

  The reply came right back: I guess. But I think I’m stuck with another coach who is going to be tough to deal with—just for different reasons. I wish Coach Axelson was in charge. She knows hoops and seems nice.

  Sort of like soccer with Coach J and Coach C.

  EXACTLY!

  Well, at least you’ve been through this before

  Easy for you to say

  See you Monday, he responded.

  Easy for you to say, she answered. This time, she added a smiley face.

  * * *

  First period at Merion Middle each morning was at eight thirty. At eight fifteen, Andi, trying to look casual, made her way to the gym office and found several girls who had been part of the tryouts standing in front of what appeared to be a blank bulletin board.

  “Don’t bother looking,” Lisa Carmichael said as Andi walked up. “It’s not there yet.”

  “Any idea when they’re going to let us know?” she asked.

  Carmichael shook her head. “None at all,” she said.

  Carly O’Hara was also staring at the blank board. Now she turned on Andi.

  “Come on, Carillo, what are you worrying about? You know you’re on the team. You and your two soul sisters. You’re the big soccer star and there’s no way the coaches could get away with cutting them.”

  Andi felt some heat rise in her neck. She knew that O’Hara was one of Jamie Bronson’s pals, so she wasn’t surprised by her hostility. She was surprised by how ugly her words were—not so much the whole jealousy thing directed at her, but the racial comments directed at Maria and Eleanor.

  Her parents talked often at the dinner table about how divisive the issue of race continued to be, so Andi certainly wasn’t blind to it, but she’d never really experienced it at school.

  “Maria and Eleanor will be on the team because they can play,” she said, knowing she had raised her voice. She didn’t care. She was angry. “Why don’t you get over yourself.”

  She turned and walked away without waiting for a response. She knew there was a decent chance O’Hara would say something that would lead to an actual fight, and that was not a good idea. Not on a Monday morning. Not any time, for that matter.

  Lisa Carmichael chased her down as she made her way back to the main part of the building.

  “Don’t pay any attention to her,” she said. “She and Jamie and a couple of others are just jealous of you.”

  “I know that,” Andi said. “But what about what she said about Maria and Eleanor?”

  Lisa smiled. “They’re jealous of them, too. So they make it about race. Easiest cop-out in the world.”

  Andi stopped and looked at Lisa. She barely knew her—it was a big school—but now she wanted to know her better. She was about five-eight, strawberry blonde, and very pretty. Chances were good, she guessed, that Bronson, O’Hara, and her crowd would be jealous of her, too. She was also a good player—clearly one of the twelve who would be on the team.

  The five-minute bell rang.

  She put a hand on the taller girl’s shoulder. “Thanks,” she said. “I feel better.”

  They turned in opposite directions to head for their first-period classes. Lisa had made Andi feel better.

  But Andi knew there was more trouble ahead.

  5

  It was noon before the girls’ roster finally got posted.

  Andi had walked back to the gym office at the start of lunch break and found a note pinned up that said, The girls basketball team roster will be posted at noon. Sorry for the delay. —Coach Josephson and Coach Axelson

  “Well, at least they apologized,” said a voice behind Andi.

  It was Jeff.

  “Since we can’t use our phones during the day, I figured I’d come down and see if they’d posted it yet. I know you just want it over with.”

  “You aren’t just kidding,” she answered.

  They went to the cafeteria and got their lunches. Andi filled Jeff in on what had happened earlier that morning.

  “Sounds like you’ve got some Arlow wannabes on the team,” he said.

  She smiled and looked up at the clock on the cafeteria wall. It was almost noon.

  “Should we go look?” she said.

  “Wait a few more minutes,” Jeff said. “My guess is they won’t be right on time.”

  He was right. When they reached the gym office’s door at 12:05 p.m., there was a crowd of girls standing around Coach Axelson, who was just putting the list up.

  Jeff felt a little embarrassed because he was the only boy in the hallway. He felt worse when one of the girls—who he didn’t recognize—turned to Andi and said, “Did you bring your boyfriend for support, Carillo?”

  Wow, Jeff thought, Arlow could learn a lesson from these girls.

  Coach Axelson, who Jeff thought was strikingly pretty and looked young enough—at least to him—to still be in college, held her hands up for a moment once she had the list up.

  “Girls, we’re really sorry this took so long, but the fact is, we had some tough decisions to make. You all worked so hard last week, we hated to cut anybody. But, it’s done.”

  She turned and more or less fled up the hallway, probably not wanting to hear the anguished wails from those who were cut.

  Andi and Jeff stood back, letting the other girls look at
the list first. There were shrieks of pain and of joy—the shrieks of joy coming from girls who had no doubt been on the bubble and had made it. Girls, Jeff noticed, were a lot more willing than boys to wear their emotions on their sleeves.

  One girl was sobbing, and as she walked past Jeff and Andi, she shot Andi a look of true hatred.

  “You and your buddies made it, Carillo,” she said venomously. “Big surprise.”

  “Who’s that?” Jeff whispered as the girl kept going.

  “Carly O’Hara,” Andi whispered back. “She’s the one I told you about from this morning.”

  “So, good news she’s not on the team then, huh?” Jeff said.

  It was good news. But even before she actually looked at the list, Andi knew that several members of Jamie Bronson’s crowd would be there.

  She was right. Once she found her name, she looked up and down the list:

  Hope Allison

  Ronnie Bonilla

  Jamie Bronson

  Andi Carillo

  Lisa Carmichael

  Eleanor Dove

  Randi Eisen

  Brooke Jensen

  Alayne Jolie

  Debbie Lee

  Jenny Mearns

  Maria Medley

  So Eleanor and Maria were there, too. She smiled seeing that Lisa was also there. She had expected nothing different but was glad to see their spots confirmed.

  Also on the list, though, were Jamie Bronson and her pals Hope Allison, Alayne Jolie, and Jenny Mearns. But at least O’Hara wouldn’t be there, too. You take your victories where you find them, she thought. Something her mom liked to say.

  The five-minute bell to start afternoon classes was chiming.

  “Good luck at practice,” Jeff said.

  “I guess I’ll need it,” she said, with a laugh that was probably more of a sigh.

  6

  Trouble started even before practice.

  “Great way to become a team,” she said under her breath as Jamie Bronson pushed past her in the locker room prior to their first real practice as a team.

  Bronson stopped and turned.

  “Problem, Carillo?” she said, as if hoping Andi would challenge her.

  “Haven’t got a problem in the world, Bronson,” Andi answered, and turned back to tying her sneakers.

  She had plenty of time and decided to take a minute to relax before heading out for practice.

  But instead of relaxing she found herself fretting about her grades.

  Her parents were both successful lawyers who expected a lot from their three kids. Her oldest brother, Todd, was a junior at Penn and played on the soccer team there. Her second brother, Drew, was a sophomore at Columbia and played varsity tennis and intramural basketball.

  Both her parents had always encouraged their children to take part in sports, but there was no doubt what the priority was in the Carillo home: school. Good grades were a given; great grades were preferable.

  Andi knew if her grades slipped, she’d no longer have to worry about Coach Josephson or the mean girls on the basketball team because she wouldn’t be playing. Where that line would be drawn exactly, she didn’t know, and she had no desire to find out.

  Her midsemester report card had four As and a B on it. The B was in math and it was because she had trouble staying awake in class. Her interest in numbers was limited to baseball box scores, football quarterback ratings, and basketball stats. Soccer stats were pretty simple to follow but Andi also knew who the leading scorers were in the National Women’s Soccer League, Major League Soccer, and the English Premier League.

  Algebra? Not so much.

  She was shaking her head, thinking about algebra homework, when she realized she was alone in the locker room. Everyone else was on the court, warming up. The girls had the three-fifteen practice, and as Andi jogged onto the court from the locker room, she heard Coach Josephson’s whistle calling everyone to the jump circle.

  She breathed a sigh of relief that her daydreaming hadn’t made her late. The feeling of relief didn’t last long.

  “Well, Ms. Carillo, I see we don’t feel the need to warm up like everybody else,” Coach Josephson said as Andi joined the circle.

  “Coach, I’m sorry…”

  Coach Josephson held up a hand. “No, no, it’s perfectly okay. You probably don’t need to stretch, either. Soccer season undoubtedly left you in better shape than everyone else. So, while your teammates stretch, why don’t you give me a couple suicides. Just two is fine. Shouldn’t tire you out too much.”

  Andi had about a dozen answers for the snide tone and the crack about playing soccer, but she knew any of them would only make things worse. So she walked to the baseline, put her hands on her hips, and waited for Coach Josephson to start her.

  “Is there something you want to say to your teammates?” Coach Josephson said.

  She clearly wasn’t letting this go.

  “I’m sorry I was on time,” she said. “I know that means I was late.”

  “Okay, line up for stretching,” Coach Josephson said. “Coach Axelson, please make sure Ms. Carillo hustles through those suicides.”

  Coach Axelson nodded, walked to where Andi was standing, and said, very softly, “Sorry.”

  Then she said, “Take your mark,” and blew her whistle.

  * * *

  Jeff’s first practice as a full-fledged member of the boys’ sixth-grade team was a cakewalk—as he would learn later—compared to Andi’s.

  The two coaches spent a good deal of the workout putting in plays, talking about how to set legal screens on the offensive end of the floor and how to get around them on defense. They would play both man-to-man defense and zone defense.

  They then split into two six-man teams to scrimmage. It was pretty apparent to Jeff that Mike Roth and Eric Billings—the two players who began the scrimmage watching—were going to be the last two players on the bench. It was also apparent that the coaches hadn’t yet decided who the five starters would be. It seemed they had divided the two teams up evenly, and as the scrimmage went on, they had players flipping their shirts from white to blue and blue to white in order to see who played well with whom.

  When play began, Jeff was the point guard for the blue team; Ron Arlow was the point guard for the whites. Later, Arlow was moved to the blue team to play next to Jeff, who had mixed emotions about that: He preferred playing against Arlow, especially because he was convinced he was the better player and wanted to prove it. Beyond that, he wasn’t in love with the idea of teaming up with Arlow.

  Then again, when the season started, they’d be on the same side whether Jeff liked it or not. So, just as in soccer, he had to accept the fact that they needed to get along on the court, if not off it.

  For the final phase of the day, Coach C had Jeff and Arlow switch spots—Arlow taking the point, Jeff moving to the shooting guard spot. At first, Jeff wondered why. But when he thought about it, it occurred to him that the coaches had been moving everyone around throughout the afternoon. That’s what preseason practice was for, especially with a brand-new team.

  When they finished, the coaches called them together and Coach C told them how pleased he was with the way they’d worked.

  “This is what we’re going to do most of the week,” he said. “We want to put all of you into different situations, playing with different guys. Don’t read anything into whether you’re in blue or white right now. I’m sure most of you noticed that just about everyone spent time wearing each color.”

  He smiled. “I know coaches always say before the season starts that there are no starters, that every spot is up for grabs. Well, in this case, it’s true. Coach B and I are both still learning about you. We have six practices to decide who should start and where each of you should play. We open next Tuesday playing over in New Jersey against Camden Middle. If you go to the school website tonight, you can see our whole schedule. We’ll play two non-conference games and two conference games before winter recess and then play te
n conference games after the New Year. We’ll play four conference teams twice and the other four once each. There’s not enough time to play everybody twice, so it’s just luck of the draw who we play once and who we play twice.

  “Oh, one other thing, on Monday before practice we’ll give each of you a piece of paper and ask you to vote for one captain.” He smiled. “Everybody good?”

  “Yes, Coach,” they all responded. A simple nod of the head wasn’t good enough when your coach asked a question. Jeff had learned that during soccer season.

  “Okay, Ron, bring ’em in.”

  He nodded at Arlow, who got a grin on his face that told Jeff he thought being picked meant that Coach C was somehow endorsing him for captain. He’d been the captain of the soccer team because Coach J had made him the captain. Basketball would be different.

  Jeff had no idea who would be chosen. But he felt confident it wouldn’t be Arlow.

  Arlow walked to the middle of the jump circle and put up his hand. Everyone surrounded him, one hand in the air. “Hard work!” he said.

  That was harmless enough. Jeff and the others repeated “Hard work!” and they headed for the locker room.

  This, Jeff thought, should be fun.

  7

  Andi managed to get through the rest of the week without any more run-ins with her coach.

  As she had expected, the team quickly divided into cliques. Hers was Eleanor, Maria, and Lisa. At the opposite end of the pole was Jamie Bronson’s fan club, which included Alayne, Jenny, and Hope. Stuck squarely in the middle were the other four players—Debbie Lee, Brooke Jensen, Randi Eisen, and Ronnie Bonilla—who didn’t really side with either group.

  Over the summer Andi had watched the old movie West Side Story. It was a musical based on the story of Romeo and Juliet, who had fallen in love with each other even though their families were sworn enemies.

  In West Side Story, Tony and Maria fell in love. It wasn’t their families who fought one another but rival gangs: Tony was white and a member of the Jets. Maria was Hispanic and her brother was the leader of the Sharks.