The energy in the room stills, lowering a few notches. I breathe a little easier.
“You all give me one hundred percent every night on this court,” I continue. “Some of you have done that now for four years. And I resigned and didn’t respect you enough to give you a heads-up. I was wrong to do that.”
Holding out my hands, Jason passes me a ball. I flip him a smile and he returns it.
“I love basketball,” I say, passing the ball between my hands. “It’s good competition, a fun way to pass some time. But you know what else it is, what it teaches?”
“Teamwork,” Jason says quietly, unsure if it was a rhetorical question.
“Exactly. It teaches us to rely on the guys around you. So when James has a bad night and can’t hit the broad side of a barn—”
“Hey!” he interjects to the laughs of his friends.
“When that happens,” I smile, “we have Dustin or Pauly or Matt that can pick up the slack. It’s not just you, individually, out there, taking on the opponent. It’s all of you.”
I bounce the ball a few times, trying to get my thoughts together, when the silence is broken by Jason.
“You know, Coach,” he says, clearing his throat, “There aren’t just fifteen of us. There’s seventeen. There’s Reynolds and you too.”
I smile at my starting forward.
“Whatever happened to you, we would’ve been there for you too. Just like on the court. If you were missing your shots, we would’ve had your back,” Jason says.
“But you stopped playing,” Dustin challenges, clearly the most affected by my departure. “You just walked off the team.”
“And I was wrong,” I say, turning to face him. “I got all caught up in myself and forgot about my team. I forgot a lot of things. Sometimes . . .” I pull my gaze to the floor. “Sometimes it’s easier to run off and try to deal with things on your own because you don’t want people to see you struggle. But all that does is—”
“It lets your team down,” Dustin chimes in.
“Yeah,” I shrug, looking at him pointedly. “It lets your team down and I let a lot of people down on the notion that I was doing them a favor. Guys,” I say, looking across the line of them, “I let you down. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
“Of course,” Jason says immediately.
Looking down the row of teenaged faces, they all nod their heads.
“Teams only work when we respect each other, when we are open with each other when we struggle. This team doesn’t stop being a team when the whistle blows. I forgot that. Let’s all learn from my mistake.”
I glance at Dustin out of the corner of my eye. He toes the black line on the floor with his sneaker before looking up at Reynolds. “Hey, man. I’m sorry.”
Reynolds grabs his shoulder and shakes it. “It’s okay. It’s been a rough week around here.”
“Are you back, Coach?” Jason asks.
Looking at Reynolds, he waits for me to respond. I shrug and he laughs.
“Let’s hope he’s back,” Reynolds sighs, sticking his whistle in his mouth. “I’m too old for this shit. You boys are killing me.”
A series of laughs fills the gym and I sigh in relief. This. This is what I do, who I am and it feels fucking amazing to be back and remembering it.
“Looks like you have been turned over to me. Get a drink and let’s see what kind of shape you’re in,” I tell them.
They all take off to the coolers, except Dustin. His brows pulled together, he takes the ball from my hands.
“You good, Coach?”
“Getting there,” I wink. “Feels better being back here though, I’ll tell ya that.”
He nods and chews his bottom lip. “I saw Mrs. Whitt today.”
“Did you?” I ask, trying not to let the fact that the mention of her threw me a little.
“She said she hoped you’d be here tonight.”
“Yeah, well, here I am.”
The ball goes between his hands, his nervous tell that something’s the matter.
“What’s wrong, Dustin?”
“I . . . um . . .” He takes a deep breath. “I got into some trouble last week, Coach.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, I didn’t do anything. I was accused of sending a few emails to a teacher that I didn’t send. I wouldn’t do that,” he says, shaking his head. “The principal wouldn’t even look into it, even when I told him that teacher has it in for me. Just suspended me for three days.”
“What?” I say, my jaw tensing. “Are you still suspended? When was this?”
I curse myself for not being there for him. Dustin wouldn’t do that; it’s not the kind of kid he is. And if he gets suspended, it will ruin his scholarship chances, which means his entire future will be gone. He’ll end up . . . like me.