“Oh, that sounds like tackling, so no, count me out for that one.”
“Cornerback might actually work for you.” Alex said, ignoring Memphis. “You’ll have to work on catching the ball. It’s not the major thing you have to do, but you do have to be able to do it ’cause cornerbacks and safeties can and do make interceptions. I’ll be there Monday. This is the point in the camp when Z brings a few of the players from the Ballerz to help with the drills. It’s another coaching opportunity for me.”
Memphis smiled. “Did I tell you how proud I am of you?”
“All the time,” Alex said, smiling too. “So how about we turn your book to chapter one.” Alex would not allow her sister to change the subject.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be as into this as you are or as you want me to be,” Memphis said, taking a sip from her glass.
“I know,” Alex said, but Memphis listened as Alex began.
#
Monday
“Where do you want these?” Aubrey asked, walking up to Z. He and the other coaches were in the middle of the field, setting up for today’s session of camp. She was here early today, helping too; partly the result of change in circumstances—her appointment had canceled on her—and partly calculated.
“Near the end zone,” he said, and smiled.
“Thanks,” she said, moving away from him, hands filled with ladders to use for the drill later. Such a good idea, she thought, this coming over early to help out. All part of a much larger plan she had in mind for him and her, becoming a them. She’d felt a connection with him from the first introduction, really, on the phone when she’d called him inquiring about the Ballerz. She wasn’t sure if it was mutual, but she was determined to find out.
He was a good catch. He had this property, didn’t mind working, really all he was missing was a woman with goals and dreams, someone to help steer him in the right direction. She’d done her homework, consulted with a few contacts within the art world that knew of his work and its potential—an artist on the rise. She could live with that, she thought, smiling. She could do worse.
“She’s early again,” Aubrey heard Coach D say. He was walking towards Z, wearing this huge grin. Aubrey stopped, searching out the she of Coach D’s comment. She was standing behind them, so they apparently weren’t talking about her. So who then? She and Memphis were the only two women participating in camp that she was aware of and no way it could be Memphis, whose Xterra had just driven past on its way to the back parking area. Not late again today was her friend, and good for her at escaping her final strike, Aubrey thought. She looked over at the men again, who were staring in the direction of the parking lot. Could it be in fact, Memphis they were discussing? she wondered, a niggling thought knocking at the door of her brain. “No way,” she said, aloud, totally flummoxed by that line of thinking.
She decided to stay put and observe the men for answers, stealthily of course. Coach Harris and Coach Beryl had joined Z and Damian now. A group of four men, with their heads turned in the direction of the parking lot. There was silence as they stood, watching as the Xterra came to a full stop. And yes, it was in fact Memphis who had captured everyone’s attention. What the hell was this, Aubrey thought, followed by who should she watch, as this… whatever this was, unfolded before her. She settled on the men, on one man in particular. He wore those shades of his, and she had a better understanding of why now. They were more than protection from the sun.
“I think you should go over and talk to her again, give her more of that positive reinforcement. Two times in a row she’s on time. That deserves something,” Coach D said, chuckling.
“I would if I was in charge,” Coach Beryl said.
“You can never give too much praise or encouragement,” Coach Harris said, smiling.
Z didn’t say a word in response, letting all their sly comments roll over him. He continued to look his fill of Jones today, who was currently bent over, removing her bag from the back seat of her car.
“Better hurry or you’ll miss her,” Coach D said, giving Z a small shove.
“Yep,” Coach Harris said as the three of them stood there along with Aubrey watching Z make his way over to Jones. The men eventually moved out of Aubrey’s hearing range, but Aubrey stayed put, and in between setting up the ladders, she continued to watch Z and her friend. It was Z’s reaction that surprised her; not worried her, no, only surprised.
She understood the allure of Jones, knew that some men were enamored of things that were different, or maybe it was something as simple as he liked that body style, maybe even was curious about it. She understood many of her kind were—curious only in passing is what she’d heard—and nothing to worry about, although Memphis as a threat was new; hadn’t happened before outside of the insurance business. That was the only thing Memphis did better than her. Anyway, it was good to know. It was always better to know who was a threat and who was not.
#
Memphis was the same distance to the restroom as was Z. She looked in his direction, met his eyes, and smiled, maybe even slowed her pace a little. She liked him, he knew, and wanted more from him. He knew that too. His buddies thought it was all him wanting to see Jones up close, dressed today in the tight skirt and the buttoned-up-to-the-neck blouse that transferred her into the schoolteacher of his fantasies and yes, that was true. However, more than anything he wanted to apologize to her again, for not only thinking the worst of her, but giving voice to those thoughts. He was sure he’d hurt her feelings the other day, read it in her eyes and it had bothered him.
“It’s you again? I know, I know, you want to talk insurance with me for real today,” Memphis said, coming to a stop in front of the door. “I’m on time so I know it can’t be that.”
“No, it’s not that. I wanted to apologize to you,” he said. He was serious she thought.
“For…?” she asked. Puzzlement was the expression he read on her face.
“My comments to you the other day, about you wanting to get kicked out. I misread you. I don’t care for people who play games. That’s all it was. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” she said.
“I did.”
“Okay, fine, you did,” she said, chuckling softly.
“So, apology accepted?” he asked.
“I guess,” she said, and smiled.
He smiled and moved in closer, knew the exact moment she didn’t know what to do with him. “I also wanted to thank you for inviting your friend to join the team. Aubrey. She’s a good pick-up for the Ballerz.”
“Unlike me,” she said, smiling too. “And you’re welcome, although I can’t take credit for it. I didn’t really invite her, more just told her about the team.”
“It doesn’t matter really how she got here. We need her and don’t discount your attributes, Jones. You have plenty,” he said. “Anyway, you’d better get moving. It wouldn’t be good for me to be the reason you’re late.” Smiling, he walked away.
Memphis stood there for a bit, soaking in this Z, the one that had apologized and moved in close to her. This felt different, he felt different, sexy maybe. Was that what she read? No, that couldn’t be, could it? Was he flirting with her there at the end? She turned and headed inside to change, no clue to the answers to her questions, but feeling really good right then anyway.
#
It was about getting down to the nuts and bolts of learning the different skilled positions. That was what today’s camp was about, what this week was about. Alex had drilled that into her head during Saturday night’s study session, plus she’d called today to remind her, as if she’d forget. Memphis understood. This week was important.
The groups had separated immediately following the forty time trials, and now she and Aubrey stood beside each other, awaiting instructions from Coach Z. They along with twenty-five boys made up the skilled players’ group.
“I’d like to introduce you to three players from the Austin Ball
erz, who will be helping out for the next few sessions,” Coach Z said, pointing to the three women standing beside him. “For those of you who don’t know, Austin has its very own women’s tackle football team. The Austin Ballerz is their name. What? Women play football? And yes, they do,” he said in response to the murmurs. “Of course, I don’t need to tell you to be respectful. They will let you know if you get out of line. Now on to the introductions,” he said, moving closer to her sister. “Coach Alex is the starting quarterback for the Ballerz, and this week she’ll be in charge of running the quarterback drills. For those of you interested in that position, take this opportunity to pick her brain. She’s excellent at what she does.
“Coach Emma…” he said, pointing to another African American woman, shorter than Alex and of a stockier build, “is in charge of teaching you the basics of running the ball, for those of you who are considering the running back position. She’s your woman.
“Addison,” he said, pointing to an Asian woman of average height, “is an excellent receiver for the Ballerz team and as I’m sure you’ve guessed, will be leading the receiver drills. Finally, Coach Damian, who is not an Austin Ballerz, nor a woman, but was an excellent cornerback in his day, will introduce you to the fundamentals of the cornerback and safety positions. Those two positions represent the defensive part of the skilled players’ group.
“Expect to learn plenty as you complete the drills and get acquainted with the positions, both on the offensive and defensive sides of the ball. You only have a week, so take advantage of it. Any questions?” he asked, looking around the group. Seeing no hands raised, he continued.
“Okay then. I’m going to divide you into groups of four, and then we’ll rotate around the stations. Let’s go, count off, one to four. Ones, you’re with Alex. Twos with Emma, threes, you’re with Coach D, fours, you’re with Addison. When you hear my whistle, move on to the next station. Any questions?” he asked, scanning the group. “Okay then, let’s go.”
#
Memphis was the lone woman in her group of kids at the first station. She and Aubrey had been separated, which she didn’t mind at all. Her worst looked so much worse next to her friend.
How to catch a pass was the topic of her group and in the back of the line was she. Actually, she preferred being in the back. As a kid, it’s where she’d spent most of her time. She’d learned to use that time wisely, to process and to try and figure things out.
She stood listening to Addison explain what was expected of the receivers in general, and specifically for this drill. Basically, it was run right five yards, then run left five yards, catch the ball. Nope, it was run right five yards, then run left five yards, catch the pass, she thought, correcting herself. All this running this way and that was called a route. Addison’s explanation was, of course, followed by a demonstration, also performed by Addison, who was very quick and light on her feet. Memphis had started watching everyone’s feet, hoping to learn something to help her remain on hers. As Addison demonstrated the drill now, it was a quick take off to the right, then a quick pivot to the left, hands lifted in front of her chest to catch a perfect pass thrown by none other than Coach Z.
Memphis had missed his arrival. She’d been too busy listening to Addison and taking all things camp seriously. She was going to give her best effort from now on, she decided, regardless of what that looked like to others. She was all-in and why the hell not. She could overcome as good as the next person.
The first boy from their group took his place at the start, ran his mini-route, headed right first, then left, mirroring Addison’s footsteps to a T, including catching the ball at the end. She was happy for the kid, but did he have to be so perfect? Where was Luke when she needed him, a fellow struggler like herself? She looked around the field and found him over with Aubrey’s group, currently working with Alex.
Memphis turned back to watch the second kid’s attempt. Not as perfect as the first, as the ball bounced off his hands and hit the ground, but otherwise good. Only one kid remained between her turn and it was now time for her to get ready. It’s easy, Jones, she thought, falling into her self-coaching mode. You are improving. Her self-talk continued throughout the third kid’s run. She looked up in time to see him drop the ball at the end.
She waited for Addison to give her the okay to start, before she took off, nervous, stumbled a little, almost fell, tilted forward for a second or two before she managed to reel herself in. She did, though, managed to keep her feet, but by then it was too late to pivot. She looked up in time to see her ball hit the ground in front and to the left of her, and it was back to the end of the line. Going all-in was not going to be easy. Her second attempt was better. She took off, nervous again but determined, and thankfully there was no falling. She made the left zag when she was supposed to and raised her hands in anticipation of receiving the ball. It arrived hard, hitting her in her hands before bouncing to the ground.
“Ouch,” she said before coming to a stop. She met Z’s eyes and it was nothing-but-shades-to-see-here.
“Relax, Jones,” he said.
“Watch the ball into your hands,” Addison added.
“Yep,” Memphis said. ’Cause that was her problem, she thought, taking her place at the back of the line again and feeling more than a little proud of that run. “You go, girl,” she said aloud, and one of the boys in front of her smiled. She looked back at Z, whose attention was on the boy currently running his route. Where did she think it would be?
She looked over the fields, watching the other boys, not only in her group but the other groups as well, performing their drills, moving about, running, catching or following some other coach’s instructions. This football playing was tough work, she thought. She caught sight of Aubrey, looking nice and athletic, playing the part of the quarterback, standing behind her sister, in the process of learning to take a snap. Memphis believed that’s what it was called. Aubrey was all grace; moving back, three-step drop—she believed she’d heard Alex call that moving back—and looking around for a receiver.
“Wake up, Jones. You’re up next,” Coach Z said, getting her attention. He’d been watching her stare into space or at the others on the field, including her friend Aubrey, when her gaze hadn’t been turned to him, filled to the brim with interest in him. He was not going near it and he appreciated that neither was she. Loved that she hadn’t acted on her interest. It was nothing improper with Jones.
Nope, Jones was just her usual non-athletic person, going about the business of falling over her feet, but trying, and today he’d noticed that she was focused in a way he’d not seen before. He was considering allowing her to make his team. Her determination today had made an impression on him and the other coaches. It was an effort that required a reward, he thought, and if she stuck it out this week, continued to try, and showed up for tryouts, he’d find a place for her on the team. Third or fourth string, with no chance of ever entering a game, but she would make the team.
It was her turn again. She had taken off, and so far so good. She stayed on her feet, which was great for Jones, he thought in his internal commentary as he watched her. He threw the ball to her, and what followed was more of what he’d come to expect. It hit her in the shoulder and she almost fell.
“You okay there, Jones?” he asked, lowering his shades, catching her on her way to the end of the line, fighting against his desire to smile.
“Yep,” she said, walking past him, not meeting his eyes, and more than a little bit disgruntled, he thought of her posture. He allowed himself a smile this time, at Jones who was always entertaining.
#
Aubrey was a little bit bummed at not having Coach Z as the quarterback in charge of their group. Instead it was M’s little sister who was telling them what to do. She had nothing against M’s sisters; they’d just never meshed well.
Z should be here, instead of helping out the receivers group, throwing passes to the kids and Jones, who had dropped all but one of the balls thr
own to her and who had also almost fallen twice. Did that mean he was seriously interested in her friend? Yes, she thought, and more so than he let on. She’d watched him as he’d watched Memphis today, since that arrival thing with his fellow coaches that had taken her by surprise. It wasn’t the only reason she kept track of him. He was easy to look at, moving about the field—really as he did just about anything. A tall drink of water was this one, smooth and in excellent shape, she thought, returning her gaze to Alex, who was explaining again how receive the snap of the ball, again.
Yeah, yeah, she understood it the first time she’d heard it. Stand close to the back of the center’s lower body, as they squatted in front of you. Next, bend forward, until the center’s legs were shoulder width to you, the quarterback. Tall centers meant you had to stand more upright. Place your hands under the center’s butt; the QB’s passing hand is tight into the crotch of the center, palm down; the back of the hand provides the pressure on the center’s crouch, which could be interesting. She imagined guys that played regularly probably didn’t give it much thought. It was just some of the younger boys that thought it a little bit funny. They had broken out into pairs and had spent the last ten minutes practicing. She and Alex were partners and had practiced in between Alex helping the other boys.
“You want to take a few more snaps?” Alex asked, back from working with a pair of boys.
“Sure,” Aubrey said. Alex turned to face the front, before falling into the center’s squat. Aubrey took her place behind Alex, and positioned her hands underneath Alex’s butt.
“That’s good,” Alex said, looking back at Aubrey through her legs. “You’re a natural,” she added, before passing the ball between her legs to Aubrey.
“Is he single?” Aubrey asked, taking the ball from Alex’s hands, while nodding her head toward Z. Memphis had passed on all the Z related info she’d learned from her sister, but it wasn’t enough and Aubrey was still curious enough to ask for herself, especially giving what she’d seen today.
The Odd Ballerz Page 10