Game Changers--A Benchwarmers Novel

by John Feinstein

  12

  Andi knew she was in trouble when she woke up on Wednesday morning and found text messages from her friends on the team.

  Eleanor’s started: Hey media star. You looked great! The one from Maria said: Last one off the bench, first one on TV! And Lisa’s said: Must have been those threes you made …

  Andi smiled at those because she knew her friends were just having fun. She hadn’t even thought to stay up to see if NBC Sports–Philly had aired the interview. Her dad had suggested calling Tom Michaels to find out if it was going to air on Tuesday or at a later date or at all. Andi had been kind of rooting for not at all and thought it possible since her answers had been so benign—or so she imagined.

  The text just below Lisa’s quickly wiped the smile from her face. Please come see me at the gym office at the start of your lunch period. It was from Coach Josephson.

  Andi was guessing she didn’t want to see her to compliment her on how good she looked on camera.

  She showed the message to her mom while she was pouring milk onto her cereal. Her mom suggested they look at the piece to see what it said before leaving for school. Andi thought that was a good idea. Her mom’s computer was sitting on the kitchen island, so she went to the NBC Sports–Philly website. Just below the lead story on the Eagles was a photo of her talking to Barkann with a link to the story.

  “Oh boy,” she murmured.

  She hit the link and watched it, with her mom looking over her shoulder.

  It began with anchor Dei Lynam in the studio and a photo of Andi in her soccer uniform over her shoulder.

  “Andrea Carillo became something of an overnight star here in Philadelphia this fall, when she fought her way onto Merion Middle School’s sixth-grade boys’ soccer team over the objections of her coach and some of her teammates,” she began. “She was able to bridge the gender gap by performing so well that she played a key role in Merion winning its conference championship, all the while winning over her coach and her teammates.”

  Lynam paused and turned to look at a different camera. “Now it’s basketball season, and Andi—as everyone calls her—is playing on Merion’s sixth-grade girls’ team. Based on yesterday’s opening loss to Camden, life hasn’t gotten any easier for her. Michael Barkann has a report.”

  The shot switched to Barkann, standing outside in front of the Merion Middle School sign.

  “We came here today to update an uplifting story,” he said. “We got the update, but the uplifting part got lost somewhere.”

  Barkann disappeared and tape from the game appeared. First, there was a shot of Andi and Lisa sitting together at the end of the bench. Then there was Andi making a three and finally a shot of the scoreboard at game’s end.

  Barkann narrated.

  “Although it seemed apparent that Carillo was one of Merion’s best players, she didn’t start the game. Nor did she come in at the start of the second quarter when Coach Amy Josephson put in an entire second unit. When she and Lisa Carmichael finally did get in, the team played noticeably better. The same happened when they got in during the final quarter, when the game was out of reach.

  “Andi Carillo is too nice a kid to criticize her coach—especially after just one game.”

  Andi was next up on camera, giving her carefully worded answers, especially the one about Coach Josephson trying to use different combinations in the season’s opening game.

  “I don’t see anything wrong there,” her mom said.

  Just as she finished, Lisa Carmichael was on camera and Barkann was saying off camera, “At least one of Andi’s teammates admitted to being baffled.”

  “I don’t know why Andi didn’t play more,” Lisa said. “You’d have to ask Coach Josephson that question.”

  Barkann was back on camera now. “I wanted to ask Coach Josephson that question, Dei, but she refused to stop and talk. Shades of Andi’s soccer coach in September. Must be something in the water in the faculty room here at Merion Middle. Back to you.”

  Lynam was shaking her head and laughing at Barkann’s tag. “Maybe they should bring in some bottled water for the uptight coaches,” she said. Then, looking into the camera, she said, “It’s sixth grade, Coach Josephson. Lighten up!”

  Andi groaned. She had tried so hard not to say anything that might upset her coach, and it had all been blown up by Lisa’s one-liner and then by Barkann and Lynam—not that they were wrong; they just hadn’t made her life any easier.

  “That’s a long piece for sixth-grade girls’ basketball,” Andi’s mom said, pointing at a little bug above the story that gave the run time as 2:42.

  Andi shrugged. “It’s midweek. There’s not much to say about the Eagles, and the Flyers and the Sixers were both off last night. There was Drexel–LaSalle and not much else.”

  “When did you become such an expert?” her mom asked.

  Andi sighed. “Talking to Mr. Michaels while all the soccer stuff was going on.”

  “Well, I’d suggest you point out to Coach Josephson that you didn’t criticize her in any way.”

  “I have a feeling,” Andi said, “that’s not going to be good enough.”

  * * *

  Jeff had also watched the NBC Sports–Philly piece before leaving for school. His dad, who was still sleeping when he came downstairs, had left him a note telling him he should check it out before he left.

  He found the link quickly, watched the piece, and knew Andi was going to be in a world of trouble with her coach.

  En route to school, he texted Andi to see if she’d seen it.

  Oh yeah, came the reply. And so did Coach Josephson. Wants to see me at lunch.

  That, Jeff knew, was not good. Want me to go with you? he said, kidding but wanting her to know he’d throw himself on a grenade for her if need be.

  NO! came the answer. She probably thinks I got you to get your dad to do it!

  Jeff hadn’t thought of that. He sent a quick reply. Sorry. Was just kidding.

  Not funny, she answered. But thanks. Know you meant well.

  Having whiffed on how the coach might react to his potential involvement, Jeff whiffed again on how other students might react.

  He was opening his locker when Ron Arlow—who else?—came strutting up to him with that obnoxious smirk creasing his face.

  “So, Michaels, still trying to be Andi’s knight in shining armor?” he said. Jeff noticed Mike Roth and Steve Reilly, two of the guys on the team who hung out with Arlow, standing right behind him.

  “What are you talking about, Arlow?” Jeff said, even though he knew the answer.

  “Come on,” Reilly said. “We all saw that story with Andi whining about not playing more. Tell us you didn’t get your dad to set that up.”

  “Nope!” Jeff said angrily. “I didn’t even know about it until we got back from Camden.”

  “Yeah, right,” Roth threw in, while Arlow continued to smirk.

  “Hell with you guys,” Jeff said, slamming his locker shut while using a word his parents had told him repeatedly not to use. At that moment he didn’t care. His parents weren’t there.

  “Well, we all know the truth and so does everybody on the girls’ team,” Arlow said. “If she’s smart, she just quits now because no one’s going to want to talk to her after this.”

  Jeff started to answer, but the three of them had turned to walk away.

  “She didn’t whine!” Jeff shouted at their backs, causing several people in the hallway to give him a funny look.

  The five-minute bell rang. It was going to be a long day.

  * * *

  Unfortunately for Andi, Arlow had been right about the other girls on the team—some of them, anyway.

  Andi didn’t see any of her teammates, other than Lisa Carmichael, on her way to first period. Lisa went pale when Andi showed her the text from Coach Josephson. “But you didn’t say anything bad,” she said. “I didn’t, either. I just told Mr. Barkann he should ask the coach about playing time, not me.”

&
nbsp; “I know,” Andi said. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

  Except that it was. Jamie Bronson and Jenny Mearns were both in her first-period math class.

  “Oh, look,” Bronson said, “here comes the TV star from that famous show Whines of Our Lives.”

  “Nah,” Mearns said. “She’s on Survivor: Whiner Island.”

  They both laughed as if they were the two funniest people alive.

  Lisa stepped in. “She didn’t whine about anything,” she said. “You two are just trying to cause trouble.”

  “She caused the trouble because she never met a camera she didn’t like.”

  The comment came from across the room. It was from Alayne Jolie—another member of the Bronson entourage.

  Before Andi could even think of a response, Mr. Andrews, the math teacher, walked in as the bell rang to start class.

  Andi had only one thought as she found a seat: Was there anyone in this school who hadn’t seen it?

  * * *

  The morning crawled by in slow motion. As much as Andi was dreading the meeting with Coach Josephson, she was eager to get it over with. She wondered if maybe, when the coach heard her side of the story, everything would be okay.

  That, Andi thought, was about as likely as the sun rising in the west tomorrow morning.

  As soon as the fourth-period bell rang, she walked out of English class and found Jeff waiting for her. This was one time when he was about the last person she wanted to see—or be seen with.

  Jeff read her mind. “I know, I know,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you to not be scared and I’ll see you at lunch.”

  “If I’m not expelled,” Andi said.

  That, she knew, was what her parents called gallows humor.

  She made her way through the throngs of kids, most headed in the other direction from her—the cafeteria being at the opposite end of the building from the gym.

  She went down the steps, across the causeway between the main building and the gym, and almost walked smack into Coach Axelson when she opened the door.

  She gave Andi a smile. “Just trying to calm the waters for you a little bit,” she said. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks, Coach,” Andi said, not feeling the least bit reassured.

  She found Coach Josephson sitting at her desk, a bowl of soup and some crackers in front of her.

  “Have a seat,” she said, waving to an empty chair.

  She parked her spoon in the soup, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and pushed her lunch aside.

  “I assume you know why you’re here,” she said.

  “My parents always tell me to never assume anything,” Andi said. “But I’m guessing it has something to do with the TV piece.”

  “Good guess,” the coach said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You have any guesses why I would want to talk to you about it?”

  “Honestly, no,” Andi said. “I didn’t think I said anything that would bother you. In fact, I think I told the truth—that you’re still trying to figure out our best combinations and yesterday was only our first game.”

  She didn’t believe that was true for a second, but it was what she’d said.

  “Did it ever occur to you that just by talking to them you gave them an excuse to attack me?” Coach Josephson said.

  Andi shook her head. “No, it didn’t. Mr. Barkann did tell me that you wouldn’t talk to him and I thought that was a little bit surprising.”

  “Some people aren’t in love with seeing themselves on camera the way you are, Miss Carillo,” she said. The sarcastic tone had turned bitter. “I know you are close friends with Jeffrey Michaels, and so I’m guessing you did what you did during soccer season and got his father involved.”

  It was now Andi’s turn to be angry. “I did no such thing,” she said. “Mr. Barkann told me it was his idea to come to our first game because they had followed our team closely during soccer season. Jeff”—she emphasized saying Jeff, not Jeffrey—“didn’t know a thing about it until the guys team got back from Camden.”

  She had one more thought. “And I’m not in love with seeing myself on camera. Mr. Barkann was very nice to me, to all of us in fact, during soccer season. I thought it would be rude to turn him down.”

  Coach Josephson sat silently for a moment. Then she said, “Since you didn’t say anything especially critical, I’m going to let you off—this time. But I had better not catch you talking to the media again.”

  She pulled her soup back and dropped some crackers into it. Clearly, Andi was dismissed.

  She thought for a moment about saying something, maybe asking the coach if she’d ever heard of the First Amendment or asking her what she’d done that had caused her to be in the doghouse since before the first practice had even started.

  She decided to say nothing … for now.

  13

  Jeff was almost finished with his lunch when he saw Andi walking in his direction, tray in hand. She had a glum look on her face but seemed to brighten a little when she saw that Eleanor, Maria, and Lisa were all sitting at the table where she and Jeff normally sat.

  The three of them had arrived together, Eleanor announcing, “We know Andi usually sits with you and we figure she’s going to need some support today.”

  They had heard about Andi being summoned to Josephson’s office.

  If Jeff had 100 percent disagreed with Eleanor, he wouldn’t have argued with her. She was, he guessed, close to six feet tall. Plus, he’d seen her playing pickup in the gym enough to know she’d probably kill him one-on-one. She wasn’t just tall, she could play.

  For once, Jeff was thrilled to have the three girls sitting with him. For one thing, he didn’t like sitting alone—especially since he never knew when Ron Arlow and friends might wander over. He knew that wouldn’t happen with the three girls sitting with him.

  He kept quiet while they all waited for their mutual friend—who appeared a few minutes later.

  Andi plopped down in the table’s empty chair, picked up a fork, and began picking at her pasta. Clearly, she was waiting for someone to ask her what had happened.

  It was Eleanor who finally said, “Well?”

  “Thought you’d never ask,” Andi said, forcing a bright but unconvincing smile. “Basically, she’s mad because, even though I didn’t say anything bad about her to Barkann, I set them up to make fun of her by talking to him at all.”

  “Did it ever occur to her that they might not have made fun of her if she’d talked to them?” Jeff said.

  “No, I honestly don’t think that thought ever crossed her mind,” Andi said. “I’m a bad guy, you’re a bad guy because she thinks I asked you to get your dad involved, and she’s cutting me a break ‘this time.’”

  “Why in the world would you have wanted Jeff’s dad involved?” Maria asked. “Heck, you didn’t even know her ridiculous starting lineup until we walked in the locker room yesterday.”

  “Or her even more ridiculous second five until the second quarter started,” Eleanor added.

  Andi put up a hand. “You are all making reasonable arguments. Problem is, we’re not dealing with a reasonable person here.”

  Jeff knew she was right. He had an idea—which had nothing to do with his dad. He decided not to voice it at that moment because he knew—knew—Andi would shout him down. But he thought it made sense. Beyond that, at this point, he figured Andi had nothing to lose.

  * * *

  There were no practices for either team on Wednesday and the girls practiced first on Thursday since they were traveling on Friday. Now that the season was underway, the team that was traveling would practice first the day before in order to get an earlier start on homework, the theory being that homework time would be lost due to travel. Why that mattered for Friday games, no one understood, but that was the rule.

  So, the girls were out there at three fifteen on Thursday. The thought of just quitting, sitting out the winter season, and waiting for tennis
in the spring crossed Andi’s mind a couple of times, but she decided against it, if only because she thought she’d be punishing herself more than Coach Josephson if she walked away. The only good thing about it might be putting in a call to Michael Barkann to see if he wanted to know the full story on why she’d decided not to play.

  She never brought that notion up to anyone, not even her parents. Instead, she was in the gym by 3:10 Thursday afternoon, ready to go. When the whistle blew, she was the first one to the jump circle. If Coach Josephson noticed, she didn’t comment.

  The pre-practice talk was generic, full of reasons why they were going to play better at Chester Heights and how much Coach Josephson and Coach Axelson had learned by getting everyone into the Camden game. In soccer, everyone on the team had to play at least five minutes. Because the basketball games were only twenty-four minutes and because a two- or three-minute stretch might change the momentum of a game, coaches didn’t have to play all twelve players. It was “recommended” by the league, but not required.

  After everyone had stretched and shot free throws—the team had gotten to the foul line a grand total of four times on Tuesday, so Andi wondered why that was a priority—they were divided up to scrimmage.

  “Five who started will start tomorrow,” Coach Josephson said. “Second five will be the same, too.” She paused for moment and then added, “We’ll let the two TV stars sub in when we get a chance.”

  Andi and Lisa looked at one another.

  “I guess the good news is, she’s not holding a grudge,” Lisa said sarcastically as they walked to the sideline to watch.

  “Must be in one of her books,” Andi said. “Hold all grudges even if it hurts your team.”

  She stood with her arms folded while play started, fantasizing about what she might say to Michael Barkann the next time he showed up with a camera.

  * * *

  “Any better today?” Jeff asked Andi as the girls were coming off the court.