19.
Red Land was the night’s opponent in a sparsely attended home game that the Generals, according to the Gettysburg Times sports staff, seemed unlikely to win. While the Generals had a close loss to Chambersburg, their good efforts were not rewarded with good attendance when they returned to home court.
Jay repeatedly bugged Kayla during his free moments at work to do anything she could to boost the numbers in the stands, even if it meant calling parents to gently persuade them to show up. Other Gettysburg teams had their boosters, so did the band. Why not girls’ basketball? Jay helped by posting the girls’ schedule as well as the boys’. He talked up the girls with any customer who asked and took a moment to listen.
Adults, presumably parents, seated in the stands, typed text messages or chatted amongst themselves while they paid little to no attention to the game, Stan Reynolds and his friends being an exception, so were Alben Baker and the Blounts. But less than one parent per player had come to cheer on their daughters. The loudest cheers came from fellow students; they were not for Bonita, the best player, or Stefani, but for Megan Reynolds and the other seniors, Ronni, Heather and Brittany. Popularity won out over ability among the more attractive young men and women in the crowd.
Champagne Ralston, Red Land's muscular six-four center, another highly recruited prospect, was a very serious test for Megan. Four minutes into the game, she was failing badly. Champagne clogged the middle and held her to no points or rebounds. So, hope apparently lost, Coach Hughes sent Stefani into the fray.
Late second quarter, Stefani’s nose connected with Champagne’s elbows in a battle for a rebound. The bloody nose knocked her concentration off kilter. Stefani got the call but went only one for two from the line. After she missed the second free throw, Stefani tried to wipe the blood with no success; a trickle rolled down her upper lip. She turned to the bench and silently begged Coach Hughes to take her out. Under state athletic rules, Stefani had to leave, tend to her injuries, and put on a new uniform.
Hughes called time out. He pointed Stefani to the end of the bench and told Megan to go in. He leaned towards Stefani and whispered something into her ear that only they could hear.
From the opposite end of the General's bench, Jay couldn’t read the words from the man’s lips. He’d heard harsh language in summer games, but derogatory words were never said openly during a game on school grounds where over-protective parents and teachers might be listening. A referee walked over to the Gettysburg bench. In Jay’s eyes he appeared to be asking Stefani if she was okay. Stefani appeared to be telling him that she was. Her face became a grotesque mix of crimson, black and blue, but the bleeding had stopped. The bloodied towel remained on the bench. Grossed out, Jay came over, picked it up and tossed it into the nearest garbage can. Hughes finished coaching the rest of the game, another loss in the books, though Bonita had given all she had: twenty-two points, ten rebounds and ten assists: another triple double.
Coach Hughes came over to Jay as Alben escorted his daughter to the locker room door. “Told you. That Baker girl is soft. Can’t play. Now will you believe me?”
Jay looked in the head coach’s eyes, then wrinkled his nose. He thought that he’d smelled beer on the man’s breath again. “No, you saw what Champagne did to Megan. If Megan was truly better, I would agree with you.”
“Megan’s my starter because I say so. Got it?”
Jay walked away and joined Alben, now waiting for Stefani to come out so that he could take her to the hospital. Bonita came over after she had dressed. "Can we go see Stefani?" she asked “She needs us. We're her family, too.”
Jay and Bonita said nothing to each other as they followed Alben on the way to the hospital. He didn’t rush, not knowing for sure what happened to Stefani. Jay worried that her mental scars wouldn’t heal, though the physical ones would eventually disappear. Stefani took some mean shots above and below the eye. But she left the gym able to walk a straight line, assisted by her dad. She played too timid under the boards for too long, Jay thought. Now he worried if she’d be willing to play at all. Concentrating on the poorly lit highway, Jay shifted the Mini’s transmission precisely. Bonita stared out the passenger side window, tapping her fingers lightly against the door panel. They arrived at Gettysburg General Hospital to find Alben pacing nervously outside the waiting room. His eyes struggling to stay open, he kept his head down and his hands in his pocket while he kicked stray pebbles off the grass.
“She’ll be fine,” he said. “They'll check her face and her eye again in the morning. Let's go home. There's nothing we can do now."
“Can we go see her?” Bonita asked. “It's not that late.”
“You heard her dad. Let her sleep,” Jay said.
“Bonita, I appreciate your concern, but please, go home,” Alben pleaded.
“Bonita, wait by my car,” Jay said. I have to speak to Mr. Baker for a minute.”
“What’s up?” Alben asked, as the door closed behind his daughter’s teammate.
“I thought I smelled beer on Hughes’ breath. Did Stefani say anything?”
“She was really shaken, didn’t say much.”
“He’s so insistent on playing Megan, and I can’t do anything about it. Stan Reynolds has Hughes in his back pocket. Heather and Ronni’s parents probably do, too. Do you have any idea why? You know this town.”
“Hughes works at the senior center over the summer. It’s a really easy job ordering movies and booking musical acts for the residents. Stan’s an old college buddy. He’s on their board. So’s Heather’s mom. She’s their accountant. Maybe that’s it. Those summer jobs are not easy for a teacher to get.”
Well, it’s not like the AAUs or summer leagues were knocking on his door, Jay told himself, “They can’t pay all that much.”
Alben smiled. “They pay well if you’re a teacher in a small town. Think about Gettysburg in the summertime, my friend. Lots of teachers work in the hotels, give tours, help with Reenactment Weekend. They’d love to avoid jobsthat a high school kid is more than qualified to do.”
“Good point. My high school coach waited tables at a seafood restaurant. He felt embarrassed every time he served dinner to me, my sister and my parents.”
“Jay, will you talk to Kayla, please? If he’s been drinking…”
“Not like anyone on the team has noticed. Why can’t you go and talk to her?”
“You smelled his breath, I didn’t. Now, please take Bonita home and get some sleep. You both look tired.”
Jay left and drove Bonita to her car parked in the lot at Gettysburg High. He remained silent driving as if he was the star’s chauffeur, not a coach.
“Amanda and I are the only ones who cared about Stef! Where was the rest of our team?” Bonita yelled. “Damn it, coach! What's with those girls?” She closed her eyes, leaned against the car door, and tried hard not to cry. “I'm the captain, but I don't know them off the court,” she said. “Except Stef.” Bonita leaned against the front fender and put her backpack atop the hood. She unzipped an outer pocket and found her keys. “There was lots of blood all over Stef’s face and Coach Hughes didn’t care?” Bonita put her keys down and started crying. “What kind of coach would do that?”
“I don’t know. It’s a first for me, too.” Jay’s high school coach had been aloof but not insensitive. Injured players didn’t play; they rehabilitated until they could play again. Even Vince McNally had not been so crass when any of his sister’s teammates were injured in a game. “Do you know exactly what Coach Hughes said to her?”
“No, I didn’t hear him. But I’ll ask Stef the next time I see her.”
“Please, we have to know. Just saying that she’s ‘soft and weak’ is not enough to get her riled up. She’s heard worse from you before. It had to be something much more hurtful.”
“Damn right, Doc, I mean Coach.”
Jay’s first impulse was to hug Bonita, comfort her in some small way, but he was afraid that someone might see the embrace and report it to a school authority other than Kayla. Although the game ended hours before, there were three other cars in the parking lot, probably those of the maintenance men, or security guards working the night shift. He got out of his car, opened the passenger door and walked beside Bonita to her Chevy.
“Keep the faith. Stef will be okay. You’ve got to help keep this team focused.” At one and four their season was slipping away though Bonita was still getting calls and mail from recruiters.
“I’ve got no say over who Coach Hughes puts on the court with me. We’ve got pretty good players, but Stef’s my only friend on the team. I was her only friend until Amanda came along. She’s grateful to Stef for helping her make varsity. She practices with us sometimes.”
“All of my teammates were my friends when I played.”
“Look at the obvious, Coach. I’m Black, they’re White. They’ve never invited me to hang out after school, after practice, since we were in middle school. I know they practice, work out on their own, just like Stef and I do. But they don’t ask us to join them. Basketball’s important to them for getting into college, but they don’t expect to play in college. Oh, maybe Megan does, because of her dad. But I never hear her talking about that like Stef talks about playing for Kentucky.”
“Well, you come off as intimidating during warn-ups. Do you think that scares them, a little?”
“I want to win, Coach. I’m afraid that I’ll keep losing options if this team keeps losing. Pitt just told me they’re recruiting me and someone else for my position who’s about to sign. Pitt? They weren’t on my short list. I’m lucky Penn State’s still interested. So’s UVA, Virginia Tech, because my dad’s got some connections in Virginia. Rutgers is interested, too, and they’ve produced good pros. I really want to be in a real power conference, like the Big Ten or the ACC, just like Angel Reese and Alyssa Thomas, a place to prep for the pros.”
“Angel and Alyssa played at Maryland. My sister watched Alyssa on TV all the time.”
“Yeah, I know. Angel was a Terp, but it was a wise move to transfer to LSU. She was the heart and soul of a championship team. She’s aggressive and scrappy, but she drives with authority, just like me. I don’t have her fashion sense. Clothes are not my thing. But I’ve got her heart and court sense. I’d go to Maryland, if they offered, but they haven’t called.”
“Is that really why you push Stef so much? So, you can get a better offer?”
“No, I push her because I really believe she can get better and maybe play at Kentucky. But that’s looking like a pipe dream with Hughes as our coach. He’s shot her confidence all to hell.”
“There’s a team besides you and Stef.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what they’re thinking or why they keep playing, Megan’s pretty good. She could play for a small D-1 if her head was into it, but she gets sidetracked with parties and boys. She was nominated for homecoming queen. So were Ronni and Heather, but Megan’s the queen bee who holds her friends together.”
“Don’t you have a social life?”
“So much is at stake for me. I know I’ll go D-1, but I’m out for more than basketball. My dad’s my role model, not because he got a shot at the pros, but because he knew life didn’t end with basketball, and mine won’t either. Besides it’s not like a Black girl has many choices among her own kind at Gettysburg High, But I’m not like Megan. I don’t need someone to send me love bombs during the most important season of my life. You know what, Coach? I get along better with the nerdy types. They’re respectful, walk their talk in class, back it up, too. Megan, Ronni, Heather, Brittany, we all played together in middle school, and got along fine, but now it’s just me and Stef. Stef moved here and kept complaining, only she talked like she was the queen bee from the place she left. That really turned people off. The senior “gang of four” steered clear, but I’ve helped her try to keep her dream.”
“It’s going to take a lot more than you to get her to play to her potential. My sister played for a coach like Hughes. He blew up any chance she had at a scholarship, and she was the heartbeat of her team. Dana was captain, just like you, but a true leader. She looked out for her teammates, tried to deal with the coach. But all he did was take the captaincy away from her, demoralize the team, and prevent her from going to a D-1 school.”
“Wow, that really sucks. Wish I could talk to her. I’d learn a lot.”
“Well, Bonita, that coach cost Dana her life. I don’t want Stef to give up, but she needs and keep improving and be realistic. Hughes robbed her, true, but she didn’t help herself last season or at the start of this one. Imagine if we didn’t have that scrimmage where Stef really showed her stuff.”
Bonita scratched her head for a moment. “You know something coach? She could be the best player on this team, after me, of course.” She smiled. “Stef can shoot from anywhere and she’s got good court vision. But now, I’m worried that’s she too scared of contact after taking those shots from Champagne, who’s a really good center, probably better than Kelsey under the basket.”
“Bonita, you’ve got to be her friend and be the heartbeat of this team. Tone down the drill sergeant act. Your teammates need encouragement more than anything. If they didn’t care they would’ve quit playing a while ago.”
“Ok, I’ll remember that. You take care, coach.” Bonita quickly grabbed her things and got into her car. The engine sounded rough, but Bonita was unflustered as she waited for the valve noise to disappear.
Jay knocked on the window. It squeaked and moaned against the door’s rubber seals as Bonita rolled it down. “That car okay?” he asked, afraid that the Chevy might leave her stranded.
“Don’t worry, Coach. Two hundred thousand miles and it’s hanging in there.”
Jay looked at the spaces on the doors where decals had once been. The outline suggested that the Chevy had been property of some delivery business that did not want to take care of the car as the miles piled up. He waited until Bonita drove away, got in the Mini, and turned on the radio after he buckled up. He hoped the music would be an adequate substitute for companionship on the ride home.