Airball

players who would get on the team on build alone, not on skill. I suspected I could beat at least one or two of the taller ones in a one-on-one. At least, I could have in my prime. My ”prime ”. This was getting sad—I really needed to get back to where I was.

Fweet!

A whistle blew and I grinned. I couldn help myself, that sound was music to my ears. A man I knew to be the head coach stepped forward and everyone fell back along the baseline, forming a clumsy looking horizontal line.

”Okay, welcome to the 2019 and 2020 mens basketball season tryouts, ” the head coach said. ”My name is Eric Hendrix and, for those of you that don already know, Ill explain how this works. Here at South Miami High, we
e known for having a decently-strong basketball team. We
e planning on expanding that reputation this season. But as you might guess, some of the players that have carried the team the past couple of years will soon be moving on to new chapters, and well need players to take their place. ”

The older players looked sideways, examining new faces they saw. They looked out around the team as if they were a parent, trying to chose which child would receive their belongings.

”Behind me is the assistant coach, Coach Myers, ” the head coach continued, gesturing to a man standing to his side. ”We will both be expecting your upmost respect. Our goal is to teach you, and therefore, you must be teachable. Today is merely tryouts, but I plan to go about it like its a real-deal practice, and I expect you to treat it as such. Remember, no one is guaranteed a place on the team. I don want to see any fooling around. Your overconfidence could cause you your spot on this years team. Now, as always, Im going to be dividing the players that make the team into three categories. Junior varsity, varsity, and a little bit of both. Varsity will be the best of the best on the team and will hardly consist of any of the younger players here. But younger players, I need you to prove yourselves to me, and I might just put you in for a varsity game and see how you fare. I expect the best out of all of you today, hear? ”

There were nods among the crowd, along with some loud cries.

”I said, hear?! ” Coach Hendrix roared, making me flinch a little. Everyone else seemed to have the same reaction.

”Yessir! ” everyone shouted at once.

”Alright! ” Hendrix yelled. ”We
e going to start this off the same way we
e going to start everything off. Suicides, go! ”

Everyone groaned and starting off running down the court.

”How many? ” someone asked.

”Until I say stop, ” the coach replied.

I didn mind suicides. I actually enjoyed them, regardless of the fact that they were made to destroy the human body. The idea was you would run from the baseline of the court to the free throw line, smack the free throw line, and then go back to the baseline, smacking that line too. Then youd go further and further down the court until you go baseline all the way down to the other baseline, smack it, and come back. Then repeat. It felt like exactly what it sounded like. Torture. But it depended on how youd look at it. I had done suicides too many times to count, and it still took its toll on me. But the pain made me stronger, so I embraced it.

A couple minutes of running later, the coach blew his whistle, an indication that we could stop. I finished the lap I was on and headed back to the baseline. I put a hand on the gym wall and panted. I noticed that only me and two other younger-looking kids were standing. Everyone else was sprawled on the floor.

”What do you think you
e doing! ”

I closed my eyes. Without even looking, I knew what had happened. Someone had stopped in the middle of the court when the coach had blown his whistle. I turned to look. Four kids—freshmen, Im assuming—were sitting down in the middle of the court, looking innocent and wondering what they did wrong. I took some time to feel bad for them. I knew what came next.

”We just… stopped, ” one of the freshmen said softly.

”First lesson! ” the coach shouted. ”When the whistle blows, always finish what you
e doing. I will have nobody, ever, giving up on my court without getting the job done. If you miss a shot, shoot it until the thing goes in. If you
e running suicides, finish them before resting. Always finish what you start! You four, give me three more suicides. ”

I winced. Imagining running two more suicides even made me hurt, and I was probably among the fittest on the court, at least in my age group. I watched as the four freshmen painfully ran another three suicides. I made a mental note to give them some pointers about basketball practice if they did make the team.

In the middle of his second suicide, one of the chubbier freshman fell on his knees to the floor, clutching his stomach.

”What are you doing? ” the coach asked. ”Get back up and run! ”

Instead of getting back up, the kid rolled over flat on the court. Sweat was dripping from his forehead.

”I said, get up and run! ” the coach yelled again. But the kid wasn moving. ”I will wait here until you get back up and run your two more suicides. ”

I could tell that Coach Hendrix was really going to wait until the kid did his suicides. I felt bad for the kid. I understood what the coach was doing, pressuring the freshman into doing his best, but I still felt bad for the guy.

”Get up and run! ” the coach yelled again.

”Hey, coach! ” I heard myself call out.

Coach Hendrix looked over at me.

”Let me do it, ” I said. ”Ill run the suicides for him. ”