I chugged what was left in my water bottle and wiped the water from the sides of my mouth with my shoulder sleeve. In a couple minutes, we were running our end-of-practice up-and-backs. On my select team last year, we called them by a different name, but Coach Acevedo wasn’t a big fan of that word. No matter what you called them, they were brutal.
“Way to go, Rip,” Coach Acevedo said, walking up. “Above and beyond.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling.
“I’m serious, Rip. You far exceeded my expectations. Impressive.”
My smile grew. “You said you like to be dazzled.”
“And you sure did dazzle. Things are gelling.” He play-punched my shoulder. “Once we finalize our third-chaperone situation, we’ll be good to go.”
“We still don’t have someone?”
“Not yet.” He shook his head. “We have a few options. It’ll all work out.”
“Do you know anything about the other teams?” I asked.
“I know some of them have been playing together for years.”
I chucked my water bottle toward the corner. It landed against the rolled-up volleyball nets. “Have you seen them play?”
“Not in person.” Coach Acevedo tucked his hair behind his ears. “How we fare may depend on the luck of the draw. Some of these teams are supposed to be … impressive.”
“Like me.”
“Like you.” Coach Acevedo smiled. “Like Red. That was some pass he made to Elbows.”
“Amazing!”
Coach Acevedo laughed. “I got such a kick out of the play he suggested.”
“He didn’t tell me he sent you one.”
“You think he’s coming to the Showdown?”
“He’s coming. I know Red.”
“I know you do. You’re a good friend.”
“He’s a good friend.”
“The way you interact with him,” he said, poking my chest, “is impressive. Red makes such a difference. Everywhere he goes. You’re a big part of that.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I think … Coach Acevedo, I think you’d make a good dad.”
“Wow, Rip. Where’d that come from?”
“I don’t know … I just … I think you would. You listen to kids, and you … and you compliment people.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think you would.”
“That’s a kind thing to say, Rip.” He held out his fist. “Thanks.”
I gave him a pound.
“Aisha and I hope to start a family in the not-too-distant future,” he said. “She works with a number of foster agencies. That’s how we got involved with Maya and her sister and their situation.”
I didn’t know there was a situation. It helped explain why Maya was with him in the park the day he ran into Diego.
“For the moment,” Coach Acevedo went on, “we’re letting life happen as it happens.” He play-punched my shoulder again. “By the way, saying nice things to me isn’t getting you out of up-and-backs.”
“It was worth a shot,” I said.
A basketball rolled into the back of my leg. I turned. Diego chased it down.
“Thanks, Coach Acevedo,” Diego said.
“Thanks for what?”
“For everything. For basketball, for Clifton United, for everything. Thanks.”
Coach Acevedo looked at me. “Did you put him up to that? Did you tell him to say something—”
“No!” I held up my hands and smiled. “I swear I didn’t!”
“Tell me to say what?” Diego said.
“Rip’s been over here saying kind things to me, and then you show up and do the same.”
Diego bobbed his head. “Your backcourt duo is in perfect sync,” he said.
“Your unstoppable backcourt duo is in perfect sync,” I added.
“Well, just like I told Rip,” Coach Acevedo said, “sweet-talking me isn’t getting you out of your up-and-backs.”
“Yo, I want to run.” Diego rested his arm on Coach Acevedo’s shoulder. “Bring on the up-and-backs. I’ve wanted this for the longest time.”