Catherine nodded, deciding to be completely honest. "I don’t want to upset you, Dear, but the idea of you having children will take me a while to get used to. I just don’t know that it’s wise to raise a child in a non-traditional family. It seems to me that is an additional burden for the child."
Jamie had a tremendous amount to say regarding this issue. She and Ryan had discussed it from nearly every perspective, and they had covered it extensively in her psych class. But she knew that she had come to embrace the idea only after a good deal of discussion and soul-searching, and she knew that her mother had not had time for either. She knew there would be plenty of time to do that before she and Ryan made any concrete plans to have children, so instead of defending her point, she said, "We’re not planning on having children for several years. We can revisit this when we’ve decided to proceed, okay?"
"That’s a good idea, Dear," Catherine agreed immediately, obviously not in the mood to discuss the issue at the moment either. "Anything else on your list?"
"One last big one," she acknowledged. "I always dreamed about having a partner who loved me as much as I loved them. I wanted someone who would consider me an equal partner and who always respected my opinions, even when we disagreed."
"And your Ryan does all of these things?" she asked with a twinkle in her eyes, knowing the answer.
Jamie shot her a shy grin as she acknowledged, "Yep. Every one of them. She treats me like I’m a precious gift. She never really loses her temper or yells at me. And even though we’ve just been together a short time, we’ve had some pretty trying situations already. I think I would have seen her temper come out if it was going to."
"That is a big issue," Catherine agreed, privately wishing that her own husband had the ability to consider her an equal partner in their marriage. Thinking of Jim brought up the topic that she knew he was fixated on. "How does she really feel about our money, Jamie?" she asked a bit hesitantly.
"I was concerned that the money would be a problem, too," her daughter responded with a serious look on her face. Jamie waited just a beat for the surprise to register on her mother’s face before she smiled broadly as she added, "But she loves me in spite of it."
The Santa Cruz-bound women got back into the Lexus after lunch and spent the rest of the drive discussing what could be expected from the upcoming season. "You know," Jordan said, "we really have to go out of our way to set an example this year. This is the youngest team I’ve been on at Cal, and there’s going to be a leadership vacuum if we don’t step up."
"Weren’t you one of the leaders last year?" Ryan assumed Jordan would take charge of almost any situation, so she had not really even considered this point.
"Nope. The two seniors were really dominant. They did a good job of keeping the team focused, even though we weren’t very good. And the year before that, we had three seniors who kicked butt when it was necessary. But you and I are the only seniors this year; of course, you’re by far the oldest player," she teased, getting a smirk out of Ryan.
‘I see your point, Junior," Ryan mused. "I’m not unwilling to step up, as long as the returning players don’t think I’m stepping on toes. It’s pretty rare to have a senior walk-on, and I don’t want people to think I haven’t earned my stripes."
"The juniors saw you play for USF," Jordan reminded her. "I don’t think they’ll mind having you keep them in line. The four sophomores are all pretty quiet, and the freshmen already think you’re a goddess just from watching you in the weight room, so there won’t be a problem with them."
Ryan’s right eyebrow popped up a couple of times. "A goddess, huh? Smart girls."
"Right," Jordan laughed, always amused by Ryan’s cockiness. "So I think we have to go all out this week, to really show these kids how hard we’re going to have to work. I don’t think we need to give rah-rah speeches or anything like that. Let’s just work our asses off to set an example."
"I wouldn’t have it any other way," Ryan agreed, privately musing that she couldn’t see the point of doing something if she wasn’t going to go all out. "We’ll see if you can keep up with me," she taunted.
"Hi, Love Bug," Ryan said into the receiver, once she found the phone in the hallway of the dorm they were assigned to. "Bad news all around, Babe. The cell doesn’t work, and there’s no phone in the room. I’m going to have to use the phone in the hallway of the dorm." She grimaced as she considered the effect that was going to have on their plans for extracurricular phone usage. "Which reminds me…I don’t mind that I’ve never gotten to live in a dorm. How do people stand these places?" She looked around the long hallway, wondering how a space that large, painted a bright peach, could look so dull and drab. Remembering that she was talking to Jamie’s message center, and that her question would, perforce, remain unanswered, she concluded, "I’ll hang out by the phone at nine o’clock your time, okay, Babe? If I don’t hear from you then, page me with the time you will call, and I’ll be here. We’re having dinner at seven, so don’t call from 6:45 on, okay? Love you. Miss you." Hate this, she added to herself, feeling quite ill at ease in the strange dorm so far from her beloved.
The 14 members of the volleyball squad gathered on the floor of the empty gym, a smallish facility that looked like it would generally be used for pick-up basketball games, or rec league play. They had all followed their own schedules over the summer, and some of the girls had not been in town, so this was really the first chance they had to be all in one place.
Ryan looked speculatively at her teammates. She knew many of the women from their morning workouts, but she was not sure what position most of them played, even though she could hazard a guess based strictly on height.
The setters and the defensive specialists were generally the smallest players, and were fairly easy to spot. More Jamie’s height, she thought, a smile curling her lips. The middle blockers were generally the tallest players, but she knew that she and Jordan were two of the three tallest team members, even though both of them were outside hitters. The other six-footer looked like a middle blocker to Ryan’s assessing eye, and she hazarded a guess that a shorter, but powerfully built woman also played in the middle. She figured that Coach would carry four outside hitters, and she was engaged in trying to guess who the other two were when the student manager called them to attention.
"Hi, everybody," the nervous looking young woman said. She cleared her throat, then shifted from one foot to the other, tossing her head to sweep her shoulder length hair back from her face. "I’m Liz Chang, and I’m going to be the student manager this year. It’s my first year at this, so you might have to bear with me while I learn my job, but I’ll do my best for you all. First thing we have to do is some paperwork." She handed out multi-part forms to each player, and the team members compliantly dropped to the floor and began to fill in the forms with the pens Liz provided.
Only in school or the military can you give a group of people a form to fill out and have them drop to the floor to do it, Ryan grumbled, still feeling grumpy about being confined to a dorm for a week. Once they had written in their emergency contacts and listed food allergies and any other special needs, Liz gathered the forms and announced that the coaching staff would be along presently.
As predicted, the staff made their entrance, and the players stayed where they were when Rich Placer indicated they should remain in their relaxed positions. "Okay, everyone. Good to see you all. Let’s spend a few minutes getting to know one another, and then we’ll get started."
Everyone spent a moment or two introducing themselves, and Ryan concentrated intently, trying to associate the names with the faces. Coach then introduced assistant coaches Ken Nakajima and Erin Malloy, and launched into a detailed assessment of their potential as a team. He realistically admitted that they would have their hands full with UCLA, USC, Arizona, and Stanford in the PAC-10. Both UCLA and Stanford had beaten them handily the previous year, and both had their key players returning. Nonetheless, he claimed that this year’s te
am had the talent to do very well in their non-conference games, and if they played well he thought they could make the NCAA tournament for the first time in several years. Ryan and Jordan exchanged determined looks, each knowing that the other was thinking of aiming even higher than just a tournament appearance.
"I’d like to spend today getting an idea of where each of you is in terms of fitness and ability," he announced. "Now that we’re into our practice time, we won’t run as a team any longer. I think each of you will get enough of an aerobic workout that you can stop running, but if you still choose to do so, have at it. Just don’t leave all of your energy out on the road." He looked directly at Ryan and Jordan as he said this, well aware that his competitive seniors had a tendency to overdo their training. Ryan grinned slightly and nodded, showing that she had received the message. "So, since we’re not going to be running any longer, let’s celebrate by having a final blowout!" His proclamation was greeted with groans, even though no one knew exactly what he was proposing. These lifelong athletes had learned at an early age that whenever a coach tried to make an exercise sound like fun–they were in trouble. "Let’s head over to the track." His enthusiastic voice did not diminish the grumbling, but everyone dutifully followed him.
The well-maintained track was located right next to the gym, and Coach Placer explained his goal. "I’d like to gauge your physical condition and your stamina by having you run a series of 400-meter laps." Now the groaning increased among most of the players, but Jordan just sat down on the bleacher and pulled out a pair of shoes. While she was lacing them, Ryan sat next to her and casually asked, "Spikes?"
A quick nod of her head caused her long blonde hair to cascade down her shoulders. "It pays to be prepared," she announced.
"It also pays to have been on the team last year," Ryan reminded her, adding a sharp slap on the back.
Coach allowed them a few minutes to warm up, then had the players run in pairs until everyone had finished the first lap. He timed them with a stopwatch, with Erin keeping notes on everyone’s performance, and after all had finished the first heat, they switched partners and did another.
Ryan was paired first with Jordan and then with the tall woman named Jenny Fletcher, who was, as Ryan had predicted, the incumbent middle blocker. She was a pretty good runner, but Ryan beat her handily, even though the 400 was a little long for her. Ryan’s best track event was the 100, but she was no slouch in the 200 or the 50 for that matter. Speed had always been her greatest asset, and she was both surprised and pleased when she turned in a near personal best in the 400.
When she considered her time she acknowledged that her fast showing was probably due to the fact that she was down to just under 180 pounds, partly from the grueling workouts she and Jordan had been struggling with, and partly because she had never fully regained the weight she had lost during the AIDS Ride. She knew that she was running well this summer, and she had a feeling that her lighter weight gave her a burst of speed that she had not experienced in a few years. I guess I won’t try to put that weight back on, she thought wisely. I need it for the AIDS ride, but I think I’ll play volleyball better at the lighter weight. I’m as low as I was my freshman year in college, but I feel good, and my energy level is good, so I may as well stay here.
Erin posted the combined times on an erasable white-board she carried, and Ryan smiled with pleasure as she noticed that she had beaten Jordan by .05 seconds. This was clearly not a decisive victory, but she was inordinately pleased to beat her fleet-footed friend at any distance.
"Okay, now let’s make this a little competition," Coach suggested, causing both Ryan and Jordan to perk up. "Two more heats, ladies. Overall winner gets to lead warm-ups during training camp. This is not a small incentive, as you returning players know, since you can tailor the warm-ups to suit your personal preferences. Bob Nymoen, our fitness and strength trainer, has a preference for ab crunches, as you well know." Once again everyone groaned, the ab crunch always appearing at the bottom of the players’ list of favorite exercises. "As a little more incentive, the players with the four slowest times are in charge of bringing the equipment from the dorm to the gym every morning." Now the groans and grumbling increased, since the dorm was nearly a half-mile from the gym. "Okay, let’s get ready to fly!"
Two more laps, and Ryan was declared the winner, nipping Jordan for the title by a full two seconds. As they walked back to the gym, Jordan caught up to her and complained, "I have cramps and a really bad headache. I think I broke one of my toes, and I might have appendicitis."
Ryan laughed heartily as she tossed her arm around her friend’s shoulders. "It’s only a couple of seconds, pal. Don’t take it so hard. I’m sure you’ll beat me next time."
"Next time I’m going to remember to take the lead weights out of my pockets," she promised, shaking her head as she tried to suppress a smile.
The next exercise was the vertical leap, the best gauge of the athletes' ability to jump high and often--one of the prime skills they would need as volleyball players. Ryan hadn’t tested her vertical leap for two years--since she had played for USF--but she recalled exactly what her personal best had been, and she was determined to beat that number.
She watched as the first player rubbed the colored chalk on her fingers and walked to the white painted cinderblock wall. The middle blocker stood tall, keeping her feet fully on the floor, and lifted her fingers as high as she could-- making a small mark with her chalked hands. Her comparison mark made, Jenny backed up about 15 feet from the wall, which would allow her to take a four-step approach, taking off about six feet from the wall, extending as high as possible for the touch that would measure her vertical leap.
Ryan was concentrating so hard on her mental preparation that when Jordan gave her a firm push to indicate it was her turn, she nearly fell flat on her face. She shot her a menacing look, but quickly gathered herself for her attempt, determined not to let Jordan distract her.
She moved to the wall and made her first mark. Jamie would love this, she smirked as her extension caused a rippling in her abdominal muscles. Ryan backed up farther than the other women had, and took four very big running steps. She shifted her momentum on the last two steps and propelled herself upward, straining to get as high as possible. Standing right next to Ken as he measured her effort, she did a little hop and let out a whoop when he announced that her vertical leap was two inches higher than it had been at USF. Maybe I’m not getting older–I’m getting better, she thought happily. Or maybe Jamie’s breathing new life into me. She thought about that for a moment, then had to admit, More likely she’s sucking all the life out of me with her insatiable demands! She sobered as she thought, I’d give anything to have that sweet face with me here right now. She realized that she was staring dreamily into space and she reminded herself, Focus Ryan, focus! You’ve got a job to do here.
When Jordan took her turn, she bettered Ryan by 1_ inches, so her pride and her good humor were fully restored. She stood next to Ryan and teased, "Leave it all on the track, did you?"
"Uh-huh," Ryan muttered, "Just keep telling yourself that, Jordan."
Coach was not overly pleased with the overall group performance on the leap, so he decided they would spend the rest of the session working on jumping ability. Ken and Erin brought out a big basket filled with ankle weights and everyone strapped on a set. The weights they wore were only 2 _ pounds each, but that extra five pounds of weight would make an appreciable difference in their ability to elevate.
He had them practice their jumping technique before starting the exercise, using Jordan as his model since she had excellent form. She demonstrated the proper technique several times and then got into line behind Ryan for the drill. "Learn anything, Lead Butt?" she whispered.
"Yeah, I learned that you’re overly impressed with yourself," she said thoughtfully. "Oh wait, I already knew that. So, no, I didn’t learn a thing," she said sweetly, patting her cheek.
As the seniors, Ryan and Jorda
n started off the jumping exercise, which required them to take off from a line three meters away from the net and try to leap as high as possible while extending their hands up over the net. Determined to lead by example, they gave each jump everything they had. By the time each of the team members had taken 20 turns, they were all sweating and breathing heavily. Even though they were obviously tiring, Coach only let them pause enough to drink some sports drink or water. As soon as they were hydrated, he introduced the next little torture.
Ryan and Jordan exchanged challenging looks as the coach described the sequencing. This one had them stand at the net and try to jump straight up, as they would to block a ball. Once again the senior duo led the way, joined by the two middle blockers. Four players did this drill simultaneously, so the rotation went quickly, but the speedy rotation also meant that they had to take their next turn quickly. They flew up to the line and leapt as high as they could, ran to the back of the line and got ready to jump again. Since they were already winded, this drill was a killer, and Coach loudly pointed out each time a player seemed to be dogging it. The torture went on for 15 full minutes, and the other women were bent over at the waist as soon as a halt was called, but Ryan and Jordan both tried to act like they were fine, even though Ryan felt like she was getting a stitch in her side.
Ken and Erin collected the ankle weights and passed out two-foot lengths of surgical tubing. Each woman tied an end to each leg and spent the next ten minutes running sideways up and down the length of the floor. The tubing was fairly stiff to force the player to stretch as far as possible, and really extend. After a few laps, Ryan cast a glance down to see her quads bulging under the pressure, and she thought with a grimace that from a purely sexual perspective, it was lucky Jamie wasn’t with her, because she would be too sore to wrap her legs around that beloved body any time in the near future.
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