at school, but I hadn’t even reached the campus when it started. “Hey, there’s my Superhero,” Jay Massine called out from a passing car.
Just about every player on the team said something, and kids who weren’t on the team got in shots, too. “Yankees call yet?” . . . “How much for an autograph?” . . . “If you need an agent . . .” I felt like a boxer being worn down by jabs.
Even Hadley got in his dig. I saw him at lunch at our regular table. “Next game, let’s try that Satchel Page thing. You know, have all the infielders and outfielders sit on the bench and then strike out the side with nobody playing defense. What do you say?”
“L-lay off,” I said.
He snorted. “I’m guessing everybody has been giving you crap?”
“You g-got it.”
He shrugged. “You kind of deserve it.”
“I d-didn’t say it the way it c-came out.”
“It didn’t sound much like you.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was serious. “I got to warn you. Vereen is big on that ‘There’s no I in TEAM’ stuff.”
I leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “What about the p-press conference for Ian when he s-signed with Arizona State?”
Hadley rolled his eyes. “Come on. The Thurmans are different. You should know that by now. So are the Comettes and the Morans and a few others. Their parents fund the Booster Club. That’s uniforms, equipment, buses, field maintenance—everything that makes the Laurelhurst program one of the best in the state. Tell Vereen you’re sorry and flow with whatever he decides.”
“He won’t k-kick me off the t-team, will he?”
Hadley shook his head. “Not as long as he thinks you might be his ticket to the state championship.”
Coach Vereen didn’t speak to me during gym class, and he didn’t say anything at practice. But once practice ended, he had me stay behind and then made me wait five long minutes before he finally came over.
“Kevin will start the next game, and the twins will relieve. You’re going to sit. While you’re sitting, watch the effort your teammates put out. Maybe then you’ll appreciate their part in your success.”
My knees had turned to Jell-O. “Coach, I’m s-sorry. I d-didn’t m-mean it t-to c-c-c-c . . .” The word stuck, but it didn’t matter. I was talking to his back.