15.
After returning home, Jay watched coaching videos on his computer to gather ideas on how to help Stefani and possibly deal better with Barry Hughes. After tiring of computer-based lectures, he stumbled upon an idea. The next day, inspired, Jay went to a hardware store and a sporting goods store to gather the parts. He crafted an instructional aide, a "magic" surprise for Stefani, an excessively long wand, a retractable ruler with a cut tennis ball attached to one end.
“What’s that supposed to do? It looks like a cat’s training toy.” Stefani asked, after she saw the homemade contraption just before practice the next day.
“Watch.” Jay unfolded the ruler and raised it over the basket, placing the tennis ball six inches over the rim. “Now, touch the tennis ball.”
“You’re kidding. I can’t reach that.”
“Try. Please.”
Stefani leaped, but she did not flex her knees. So, as she jumped, her fingers merely grazed the net.
“Bend them deeper, then jump” Jay said.
“Why?”
"Humor me. Try it again." He leaned the tennis ball against the rim.
Stefani came just short of nicking it.
“You need a higher vertical jump. Report ten minutes before practice and keep trying to reach for that ball.”
“What if I don’t show?”
Jay shrugged. “You’ll prove Hughes right. Amanda will be more disappointed. This scrimmage is her chance, too. So, how about it, Stef? If you won’t jump for me, will you jump for her?”
“Guess, I’ll see you before practice. Amanda earned her place. Only right to help her.”
“Thank you, Amanda will really appreciate it.”
She’s got a nice streak in her after all. Jay mumbled softly to himself as Stefani left the gym.
The anxiously anticipated scrimmage came two days later. Showing more in-game determination and less fear of contact under the basket, Stefani out-rebounded Megan seven to five during the scrimmage and lit her up for 20 points, with her father, and Megan’s, watching. She even hit two shots over Bonita, who would never let up on anyone. A more aggressive defender under the basket, but also a far less polished shooter away from it, Megan looked lost against the more skilled Stefani. Yet Coach Hughes didn’t yell at her during the scrimmage, nor did he walk over to Jay to praise Stefani’s best effort yet as a General after the scrimmage ended.
Amanda Buford’s talents also shined. She proved more effective at running the point than Heather Ward, the senior starter on varsity, and outscored her 12 to seven. Amanda had the eye for hitting a teammate with a perfect pass and showed a knack for steals. Danielle shined, too, out-scoring and out-rebounding Ronni Hancock, another senior, Coach Hughes’ choice for starting small forward. Coach Hughes did not congratulate Amanda or Danielle. Jay wondered if the head coach even knew their names.
Alben Baker trotted over to Jay from the bleachers after the scrimmage. “I can’t believe it. Wow, she’s playing a different game.” From a growing distance he watched Stefani jog happily into the locker room, lamely trying to hide a satisfied smile. “What did you do?”
Jay showed him the magic stick, still in his hand after working with Stefani before the scrimmage began. “She must grab more rebounds. Made this to help her along.”
Grinning, Alben grasped Jay’s hand with gusto. “Did that thing really work? Make her jump higher?”
“Sort of. It gave her something to aim for. Forced her to concentrate around the basket.”
“You gave her a fighting chance. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Coach Hughes has the final word.”
Minutes before practice the next day, Coach Hughes posted an updated varsity roster. He didn’t bother to congratulate the players who made varsity and earned starting roles or console those who didn’t. There was one major change—Amanda Buford and Heather Ward would share the job as starting point guard. One might be the first player off the bench, depending on the game situation,
Jay’s mouth dropped. Hughes noticed Amanda, but not Stefani. Her shoulders were broad enough to block out the sun, let alone Megan’s trips to the basket. Danielle Gregory was also quite deserving of a promotion.
Stefani and Bonita walked over to check the roster. Bonita was smiling. She had no reason not to; her starting job was secure. Stefani walked over proudly; she had every right to feel good about her chances, but she checked the board since she’d been cheated before.
“Dammit,” Stefani murmured after she saw her name listed among the varsity subs. “I’m playing behind her again?” She threw a textbook against the bulletin board. Then Stefani tried to grab the roster sheet and tear it off before Bonita pulled her away.
As he watched Stefani’s drama unfold, Jay walked over, picked up the textbook, and handed it back to Stefani. “I’m really sorry, Stef. You earned the job. Don’t know what else you could have done.” Maybe it was too much to expect Hughes to replace two of his starters. Amanda might have been a "gimmee" to concede that Jay could actually develop talent, some of the time.
“C’mon, you really balled in that scrimmage,” Bonita said. “And you, Doc, thanks. You really came through.”
“No, Stefani did. If she keeps rebounding in practice, she’ll get more time,” Jay said. “I’ll make sure of that.”
“I’ve been telling her that for months, Coach, but she had to get the memo.” Bonita offered a high five, but Jay passed, not wanting Stefani to feel more depressed.
“Keep working in practice, you’ll get your chance,” Jay said.
“I’m not the starter,” argued Stefani.
“Step up and take the job. Who’s stopping you?” Jay asked. Besides a blind idiot coach, he wanted to say but couldn't.
Bonita nodded and gently squeezed Stefani’s shoulder. “You deserve the job and we both know it.”
Stan Reynolds was waiting at the gym door. He waved to Jay to come over.
“I’ll see you guys at practice. Someone wants to speak to me,” Jay said.
Bonita and Stefani noticed the banker, too.
“I know that guy. My dad knows, him, too,” Bonita whispered. “He came to most of our practices last season, all the games, too.”
“I know him, too, for different reasons," Jay said.
“He’s Megan’s dad," said Stefani. “He’s always got his nose up Coach’s ass. My dad knows him, too.”
“C’mon, Stef, chill,” said Jay, who now saw the real reason for Stefani's problem and possibly new problems for his work life off the court.
"Gotta warn you, Doc. He’s nice—most of the time—but watch out,” said Bonita.
“Why?”
“He’s slimy with his handshake, if you know what I mean."
“I’ll remember. Thanks.”
As Bonita and Stefani headed to the locker room, Jay walked over to Stan and accepted his Bill Clinton-esq handshake. Only this time, Stan pulled Jay in closer than he had with the board members at the last Main Street meeting
“That Baker girl played the game of her life,” Stan whispered, as he gripped Jay’s hand tighter. “And you know it. She won’t be so consistent day-in day-out.”
“We’ll see. Have to admit she’s got talent.” Jay answered as he released his grip.
“That’s what I want to discuss. Barry’s team is so good; he expects to go all the way.”
Jay bit his lip. A parent could call the head coach by his first name, but his assistant could not?
“My daughter, Megan, expects to have a starting job. She’s a senior. I’m sure you know how tough it is to get into a good college.” He squeezed Jay’s elbow and looked directly into his eyes. "Barry gave the Baker girl a chance. Be happy. She’s back on the team."
"Her name's Stefani. She’s a senior, too.”
"Who?"
"The 'Baker girl'. Her name's Stefani."
“Uh, okay, but Barry and I have this mutual understanding. Megan’s the starter.”
“I’m just the assistant. I do what Coach Hughes asks."
Stan smiled and playfully slapped Jay on his left arm, probably as he did in his football days. “Smart boy. Keep doing what you’re doing, and we’ll be fine.” He winked. “Those girls will be fine. You’ll be fine, too.”
“What do you mean, ‘I’ll be fine?’”
“I know why you’re here, Jay. It’s no surprise you’re trying to get in good with folks in Gettysburg. You’re lucky. Just happened our girls needed an assistant coach, so Alben Baker and Herman Blount talked you up. Well, play nice, watch our girls win, and it’s all good. Get too high and mighty and…well, you’ve been around.” Stan shook Jay’s hand once again in the Clinton-esq style, then left the gym.
Jay jogged to the basketball cart, shook out the wetness from his hand and sighed with relief. He brought the cart to center court, snatched a ball and spun it on his fingers, trying to kill the remaining minutes before the girls hit the court so he could expel Stan Reynolds from his mind. The locker room door opened to the giggles and sneaker scuffs of Generals as they took the court for practice.
Coach Hughes had not come out of the boy’s locker room, where his office was, so Bonita led calisthenics, barking orders like a drill instructor. The girls followed her instructions without question, their cadence near perfect, though Jay wished that the team clapped in unison as they began each series of exercises. To him it appeared that they were treating basketball like a mandatory gym class as they went through the motions under their captain’s instruction. Jay was left to wonder why Coach Hughes didn’t come out to encourage them during their warm-ups, instead of waiting to make a grand entrance? Why didn’t he do the warmups, too? Was he afraid that he couldn’t keep up with a bunch of high school girls?
After calisthenics, Bonita ordered the varsity and jayvee players to set up chairs and cones for drills. Jay helped out, quietly placing things where they needed to be placed. Bonita helped, too. As the last cone was placed down, Coach Hughes made his grand entrance. He came over to Jay first as the teams lined up for the cone drill.
“What were you doing?” the head coach asked.
“Helping the girls set up for drills.”
“You don’t need to do that. They know where everything goes.” Coach Hughes signaled for Stefani to come out of drills. “Hey, Baker, why don’t you work with Coach Siler and the jayvees today?”
Jay’s mouth dropped. He had shared nothing about his magic stick with Coach Hughes.
“Why, Coach?” Stefani asked, also surprised.
“I want to see your true game, Baker,” he said, offering a high-five that Stefani accepted. “I need to know if you were for real in that scrimmage. We’ll need to give Megan a rest now and then. Best way to get you ready is to keep you working with the jayvees. Coach Siler must’ve have given you good advice,” he said as his eyes shifted from Stefani to Jay.
Stefani growled, but she agreed to go along.
“Stef, I have no idea why he did this. But you’ll learn more from me than you’ll ever learn from him,” Jay said as they walked over to join the jayvees.
“I know,” she whispered softly.
Jay walked with Stefani to the basket farthest from her drilling teammates. He unfolded his magic stick, placing the tennis ball just above the basket.
“I gotta do that again?”
“This is part of your practice. I want you to jump so high that you push that little ball against the rim.”
“What will that do? Make them laugh at me?”
“You want to take that starting job, don’t you Stef?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, show Megan that you’re stronger, and that you can jump higher than she ever could on a good day. Make her shake in her sneakers.” Jay raised his hand up for a high-five.
“Oh yeah. I wanna do that.”
Stefani made ten jumps, touching the tennis ball eight times. No one but Jay paid attention, so no one laughed. After Stefani jumped her last jump, Coach Hughes blew his whistle.
“You got a choice, Stef. Walk over there and trust yourself with Hughes, or stay here and help me.”
Stefani opted to stay put. As Jay watched with curiosity and awe. Stefani did more than dominate the jayvee game; she actually pointed to where her teammates needed to be to get their own chances to score, just like Caitlin Clark.
16.
As he parked at Gettysburg High for his first game as assistant coach, Jay felt a flutter beneath his ribs, the same as he had felt moments before his own high school and college games. The folded copy of the Gettysburg Times on the passenger seat should have given him less reason to worry, but it didn’t. Adam Michael, their basketball writer, believedthe Generals would romp. New Oxford, the night’s opponent, lost their best players from the previous season to graduation. Forced to experiment with a freshman and sophomore line-up, their team more closely resembled Jay’s jayvees than the General’s varsity.
Jay considered taking the paper into the locker room. But he recalled what his high school coach once said: never put the clippings on the wall, they’ll make you overconfident. The jayvee and varsity girls had already started calisthenics under Bonita’s over-exuberant guidance before Jay arrived. Seeing no reason to distract them, he strode over to the Gettysburg bench where Coach Hughes chatted with the referees.
“Glad you decided to join us," said the head coach. "Your jayvees ready to play?”
“Yeah, and ready to win.” Jay answered as he and his players joined him and clapped in agreement.
Coach Hughes climbed up the bleachers and sat by Stan Reynolds and Bobby Hancock. The nerve to be a kiss-ass while his assistant was at work. Disappointed to see the rest of Barry Hughes’s players, except Bonita, Stefani and Amanda, chatting in the bleachers with parents and friends. Jay hoped they’d be cheering his jayvees closer to tip off. Not that Hughes’ absence, or the lack of cheer support, mattered. The jayvees walked to center court, won the tip off, and never looked back as they coasted to a 47-29 victory. Led by Danielle Gregory, their best player, they showed good camaraderie as a team, low-fiving as players entered and exited the game, and placing hands and arms on shoulders in their circle during time outs.
Stefani, Bonita, and Amanda cheered the jayvees for the full 32 minutes; no one else on varsity appeared to be watching their game, let alone cheering. Jay felt disappointed, not for himself, but his players, who won together in game action for their very first time. Alben Baker clapped whenever Jay’s players scored and smiled brightly as he watched his daughter cheer loudly with her friends.
Smiling slyly, Coach Hughes shook Jay’s hand after the jayvee game ended. “Good job,” he said. “Now relax and watch a real coach go to work.”
Coach Hughes did not provide an extra seat for an assistant. Jayvee players sat by their coach in the row behind the varsity bench after they returned from the showers. They were tonight’s cheerleaders. Less than fifty people, besides players and coaches, sat in the stands. Two women dressed in college colors, one from Rutgers, another from Pitt, sat separately, probably there to watch Bonita. More than half of the night’s audience had arrived during the closing minutes of the jayvee game.
As the clock approached game time, Bonita gathered her teammates into a circle at mid-court. Coach Hughes said nothing; he left it to Bonita to get her teammates psyched. That was a captain’s job, but a good coach was supposed to motivate players, too.
“Okay ladies, opening game," Bonita said loud enough for anyone in the stands to hear. “Are we ready?”
“Hell yeah!” they shouted, except for Stefani, who stayed silent.
The Generals won the jump ball and pulled away quickly. Bonita scored six of the first ten points. After her third basket, she pointed to Stefani on the bench. Hughes noticed and shouted for Bonita to pay attention to the game. Megan Reynolds played the rest of the half while Stefani sulked.
Up 30-16 at the half, the varsity scored eight unanswered points after tip-off to pull away. New Oxford had not put up much of a threat, but Megan, who had ten points and eight rebounds, was tiring.
Jay got up and walked behind the bench and whispered to Hughes to send Stefani in.
“Why should I?” Hughes asked. “We’re winning.”
Beads of sweat rolling down her shoulders, Megan barely kept pace with her teammates. She scored another two points off a pass but drew a foul. Fortunately, she made the first shot.
“C’mon, Coach. Pull her out after the free throw. She’s done. Let Stefani play.”
Megan missed the second shot. Coach Hughes signaled for her to come out, giving her a low-five before she took her seat. Her friends, Ronni, Heather and Brittany were the first to low-five her, before the rest of the varsity and jayvees joined in.
With three minutes to play, and the outcome long decided, Stefani entered the game. She grabbed two rebounds—the magic stick and Jay’s prodding had added almost half an inch to her vertical jump—but she scored no points.
“You happy?” he asked Jay after the losing coach headed to the visitor’s locker room, his face looking down at the court in disgust. “I put your girl in.”
“Yeah, while you wore Megan down. No coach would let her play 30 minutes.”
Megan actually played more than Bonita, who got four minutes to take a breather with victory safe at hand. There was as much as ten minutes time for mop-up duty in this thirty-two-minute game. But Hughes gave no concern to the risk of injury to Megan, or the egos of his bench players, including a dejected Stefani.
Coach Hughes stepped so close after shaking hands with the opposing players and coaches, Jay could feel the man breathing on his chest. He also thought that he could smell beer on the head coach’s breath.
“Megan’s my starter unless she gets hit by a bus. Got it?”
The gym emptied except for parents and friends chatting in the bleachers. Even Stan Reynolds left, likely happy that his daughter played so much.
Hughes clamped Jay’s elbow like a vice grip. “Franz says I have to keep you.” The coach practically spat in Jay’s ear “and I need you to coach the jayvees. But I don’t need to listen to you or give you anything to do with my varsity. Coach the jayvees and shut your mouth.” He released his grasp and left the gym.
Alben Baker came down from the bleachers after Coach Hughes left the gym. “You can’t help that Hughes is an asshole. We know that Stef should play more.”
“Yeah, but I’m having a good time coaching the jayvees. They’re nice girls. They want to learn the game. Stefani’s doing better, too.”
“She’s stopped snapping at me when I ask about her game. Alben gently touched Jay’s shoulder. “Next time Hughes grabs you like that let me know. Herman Blount will knock him on his ass.”