More Than 44
FOURTEEN
The season started and Dave’s vision of the new number 44, Matt Phillips, became even clearer. He had talked to Tony D about his boy, although it was obvious that Matt would not only make the team but be a starter. The future would be on hold at least at the varsity level, as Dave tried to improve on his team’s up-and-down season the previous year.
The driving force of Dave’s basketball career had always been his father. Walter Abrahams was doing about as well as expected following his heart surgery, but a slightly-irregular heartbeat had him scheduled to receive a pacemaker. This proved to be an obvious distraction for Dave, who still hadn’t fully recovered mentally from the trauma of the initial heart attack. It was bad enough that Walter had the heart attack, but the visuals of Walter falling limply to the court had haunted Dave in his conscious and unconscious dreams.
Luckily, the two things that Dave could do in his sleep – play basketball and talk about business – were the two things he had to do every day.
“You Ok with all of this?” Sarah asked Dave.
He took a bite of his pasta and coldly replied, “About what? The food?”
She had unlimited patience for Dave, “About your dad and his procedure.”
“What do you think?” he said in an indignant tone.
She had a twist of pasta on her fork and set it back down in her bowl. Dave looked up to see his girlfriend looking sad, with her head down and her eyes closed.
He quickly realized he was being a dick and said, “Are you meditating? So you won’t reach over the table and kill me.”
“I don’t want to kill you,” she replied as she opened her eyes following her rebalancing.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snap at you. Here, let me feed you,” he said as he picked up a fork-full of pasta and messily shoved it in her mouth.
She then flicked a bunch of pasta at him and soon the pasta and water were flying everywhere. They came together as two bodies fused together as one on the kitchen floor and then steamed up the vanity mirror near the shower as they got clean. Their arguments were usually brief and invariably ended with smoldering make-up sex, immediately followed by extensive clean-up.
Walter’s procedure went smoothly and soon he was out of the deathly-smelling hospital and resting at home comfortably. Dave breathed a huge sigh of relief that night and slept like a baby for the first time in months.
Walter’s improving health also came in time for the coming season and the Central High championship game rematch. The guys kept playing together and continued to terrorize the varsity team in scrimmages. Dave admittedly was much more focused on the preparedness of his team, rather than playing in a game that had little or no significance.
The night game in January was more about celebrating the town’s history than playing a game for all of the marbles. Besides, Dave and Tony’s focus on that day was squarely aligned with winning the varsity and junior varsity games that preceded the “big game” at Dolphin gymnasium.
Once January rolled around, many things in the lives of Sarah and Dave transformed into amazing clarity. One of his classes was in first place in the Newsday Stock Market Challenge, his basketball team sprinted out to a 5-2 record, and Haley’s squad was an improved 5-3.
Dave set the tone before the first practice of the year. No one had talked about the summer league game when his dad collapsed. Dave strolled back and forth with a serious look in his face and then stopped and said, “So, what happened at the end of the game?”
Twelve huge exhales later, team ham/entertainer and point guard, Greg Morales, jumped on the opportunity.
“Check this out, Coach Abe. We were ready to walk off the floor but the coach of Choral Stream insisted that we finish the game.” He stood up and continued his animated description. Coach D looked over at the other coach and we thought he’s send the guy through the fence. But he gathered us around him and said, “Fuck these guys! We’re gonna’ win this thing!”
The team collectively started laughing, including Dave who was fascinated by the positive twist to the emotionally-scarring event.
“So, this dude from Fairy Streams makes both free throws, and Coach D called time out. Two seconds left, with the ball under their basket. Jimmy took the ball out and threw it to T-Man, who was on the move at the foul line. Let’s do this y’all!”
The starting five got up and reenacted the event. Carl Tedesco caught the ball and took two dribbles before hoisting the ball toward the basket in the distance. Dave and the other seven players watched as the ball floated toward the basket. He extended his arms in the air as the bull thudded off the glass and through the net. The team went crazy, like they had just won the world championship. Once the excitement waned, Dave turned to Morales and excitedly asked, “So, you guys won?”
Morales looked around at his teammates and smiled, “No, we lost. The ball hit the back rim, but it looked like it was going in.”
Dave looked at his players and stated, “We’re gonna’ get those guys this year! Next time, the shot will go in!”
The team rallied behind their coach ad then he said, “All right. Let’s stretch it out and then hit the lay-up line.”
The team’s positive momentum brought them to their last non-league game of the regular season, versus Central High, which had started the season with an impressive 6-1 record. Dave’s body might have been ready for the big rematch, but his mind was set as a coach, not player.
Tony D’s junior varsity team had struggled early on, posting only a 3-4 record. Dave was more interested in the development of his team, rather than their overall record. They had lost two games in a row, largely because Matt Phillips was suffering from a lingering virus that wouldn’t seem to go away. Dave walked up to Matt in the locker room before the Saturday 2:00 p.m. game.
Matt’s head was down as he sat on a long, wood bench. Dave extended his left arm and put his hand gently on the top of Matt’s head.
“How you doing, son?”
“Matt slowly lifted his head, “I’ve felt better, coach. I just have no strength.”
Matt was still in street clothes and had arrived a few minutes before his teammates. His gym bag rested on the floor between his legs, and his body language suggested “bag of bones.”
“You gonna’ play today?” Dave asked.
“Coach D said it’s up to me.”
Dave bent over so his mouth was close to Matt’s left ear, “Can you breathe?”
Matt answered, “Yes.”
Dave asked, “Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
“Would I ever miss a game?” Dave asked.
“No.”
“All I would ever ask from you is that you do your best and leave everything you have out there on the floor. Your teammates will never follow you if you take the night off. Nobody will ever remember the score of this game today, but they will remember that you fought through adversity and that you are a true warrior.”
Matt nodded, “Yes, coach.
Dave patted Matt on the back and started walking out of the locker room.
“Hey coach!” Matt called.
Dave turned around, “Yeah, Matt.”
“You gonna’ break Central’s heart again tonight?”
Dave smiled and replied, “We’ll see,” as he walked out into the gym.
The crowd was sparse at the start of the Central-Bailey Woods junior varsity game, with family members and a few locals scattered throughout the bleachers.
Dave sat with Sarah in the stands as Matt took off his warm-up jersey and nodded at Dave. He nodded back as Sarah said, “Wow! He looks really pale. Should he be out there?” she said channeling her inner mother.
Dave turned his head and looked at Sarah. “You ever miss a game?”
She instantly replied, “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I just couldn’t… oh, I get it,” she said.
“It really do
esn’t matter how he plays today. What matters is that he did play. I bet he scores only a few points, but he’s gonna’ be pissed every time he plays Central for now on.”
“Are you talking from experience?” she asked.
“What do you think? You ever been shut out in a game?”
She searched through her mind, “There was this one time in seventh grade when the coach played me only a few minutes…”
“I mean, when you started a game.”
She quickly replied, “No, never.”
“That’s what I thought,” Dave said as he smiled at his girlfriend. He wanted desperately to hold her hand, but they were role models and that wasn’t the time or the place for a public display of affection.
It didn’t matter that everyone and their grandmothers knew that Sarah and Dave were dating, it wasn’t proper to flaunt their relationship in front of impressionable teenagers. Kisses and hugs in celebration were more spontaneous expressions of affection and were more suitable examples of love.
It was a dismal half of basketball for the Bailey Woods junior varsity. Central started the game by pressing Tony D’s charges, and never seemed to take a step back in the first 16 minutes of the game. Matt looked like a zombie, scoring three points and doing little else than look like a pinball bouncing off bumpers and point-scoring bells. He slinked into the locker room, walked straight to the toilet, and then proceeded to throw up. A teammate walked up to the stall and said, “Dude, are you all right in there?”
Matt threw up a little more and said, “Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.
The guy said, “You should be in bed, at home.”
Matt emerged from the toilet and stopped to wash his face. Tony and the entire team were watching him and waiting for him to join them. He shook the remaining cob webs and started walking toward the team.
“You want to sit this one out, Matt?” Tony D asked.
Matt smiled and replied, “That’s Ok coach. I’m actually feeling better.”
The team still lost by the 16-point deficit they trailed by at halftime, but that also meant they played Central even during the second half. Matt finished the game with 10 points, but he also had eight rebounds and four assists. The impact he had on the game transcended the stat sheet and established his leadership role amongst his teammates.
Dave sat in the stands watching until the middle of the third quarter, when he marched into the locker room with his team to prepare for the game. The few second-half minutes he saw told him everything he needed to know… Bailey Woods Basketball was on the road back to the top.