They walked up the two flights of stairs and down the hall to Coach Axelson’s classroom in silence.
When they walked inside, she took what was normally a student seat and turned it around so she could face the four of them, each sitting at a desk facing the whiteboard.
“So, before you ask your question and, in the interest of time”—she glanced at her watch—“let me answer it. You are all smart kids. You could see that Coach Josephson and I had some real differences in terms of the way we thought the team should be coached. I sat down with her on Friday after we got back to school to see if we could come to a meeting of the minds so we could continue to work together.” She paused. “It didn’t work out. She’s the coach. It’s her team. I honestly think you’ll be better off with an assistant Coach Josephson might be more willing to listen to—during practice and in games.”
When she finished, they all started talking at once. Coach Axelson put up a hand. “You gotta go one at a time or I can’t hear you.” She looked at Andi. “You were the one who had the guts to come into the faculty room, Andi, so you go first.”
The other three girls seemed to think that was a good idea.
“Okay,” Andi said. “Let me start by saying this: I think what I’m about to say goes for all four of us.” She looked at the others to see if anyone objected, then continued.
“Coach, we’re two games into a fourteen-game season and we’re emotionally exhausted. You know why, you’ve been there through it all. We don’t want to quit the team: We all love basketball and we love playing together.”
“Maybe the four of you,” Coach Axelson interjected. “Not so much with some of the other girls.”
“They don’t much want to play with us, either,” Maria said.
“Fair point,” Coach Axelson said. She looked at Andi to continue.
“Coach Josephson said herself on the first tryout day that she’d never coached before. I’m not sure why she wanted to become a coach now, but I think I know enough about sports to know you don’t learn to coach by reading a book.”
“Also a fair point,” Coach Axelson said.
“But it isn’t just that,” Andi said. “If she made X and O mistakes, that wouldn’t be that big a deal. But she’s been biased against me for some reason since day one and biased against Lisa for being my friend. Plus, she’s a racist. We heard that on Friday.”
Coach Axelson put up a hand. “She said some things I have a real problem with,” she admitted. “I think, like all of us, she’s a product of her environment. I don’t know exactly where she grew up, but my guess is that it wasn’t the most tolerant of communities.”
“Does that make it okay?” Eleanor asked.
“No, it doesn’t,” Coach Axelson answered. “All I’m saying is, I don’t think she’s evil. Just … misguided.”
“Misguided or not, she shouldn’t be coaching us,” Andi said. “You should be.”
The five-minute bell rang.
Coach Axelson stood up. “I hear you,” she said. “But I can’t pull a coup d’etat here. She is a colleague and it would definitely divide a lot of the faculty.”
Andi wasn’t exactly sure what a coup d’etat was. She wasn’t alone.
“What’s a coup d’etat?” Lisa asked.
“It’s when you overthrow someone who’s in power,” Maria said.
“Right,” Coach Axelson said. “A tyrannical leader, not a sixth-grade basketball coach.”
“But she is a tyrant,” Andi said. “And we’re the ones who are suffering because of it.”
Kids were starting to come into the classroom. The girls had to get to their own fifth-period classes.
“Let me give it some more thought,” Coach Axelson said. “No promises. But I do understand why you’re all so frustrated.”
The four of them began heading upstream against the tide of kids coming into the room.
“What do you think?” Eleanor said when they reached the hallway.
The late bell was ringing.
“I think if we don’t get moving, we’re all going to be late and in trouble,” Maria said.
As usual, she was right. They all started running.
After the girls left the lunch table, Jeff pulled out his phone. He knew that Coach Crist would not be in the faculty room because he never ate lunch there. Instead, he and a couple of the other teachers walked two blocks to a diner that had very good food. Jeff had eaten there with his parents on weekends a couple of times, so he knew it was good.
They had run into Coach C and his family there once, and he’d later told Jeff it was where he ate lunch every school day. “Menu’s big enough you can eat something different every day,” he said. “But most of the time, I’m happy with a burger, fries, and a milkshake.”
Jeff wasn’t about to interrupt Coach C’s lunch with a phone call—even if he thought he’d pick up. Instead, he sent a text. Coach, need to talk to you ASAP about problem I brought up to you Friday. It’s gotten worse.
He was pleasantly surprised when he received an almost instant answer. Understand. Heard what happened at Chester Heights Friday. Still not sure I can do anything. We have late practice today. Come to my classroom after last period.
Jeff knew that might already be too late, but he didn’t have a lot of options. He sent back a thumbs-up emoji and then headed to his fifth-period class, which was math. He hardly heard a word anyone said the rest of the afternoon and was lucky he didn’t get called on because he would have been clueless, since he hadn’t been paying any attention.
As soon as eighth-period earth science—a class where he wouldn’t have been listening much on any day—finally ended, he set out to find Mr. Crist’s history class, which was one floor up.
The last couple of kids were on their way out of the classroom when he arrived. Coach C was standing at the whiteboard talking to two kids about a homework assignment. Jeff stood back and waited for them to finish.
Coach C saw him and signaled him to pull up a seat next to his desk.
“So, I hear Joan quit this morning,” he said.
Jeff nodded.
“Do you think it was because of what happened on Friday?”
“You know about that?”
“Everyone knows about it. I haven’t talked to Amy or Joan directly, but I heard from one of the other geology teachers that the two of them had it out Friday night.”
Jeff didn’t know that. Neither did Andi and her teammates. But that would explain a lot.
“Do you know what ‘had it out,’ means, exactly?’
Coach C shook his head.
“All I know is Joan was upset about what had happened in the locker room before the game Friday and tried to have a talk with Amy about it and it didn’t go well.”
That made sense to Jeff.
“Coach, if Coach Axelson is gone, the girls who didn’t play the first half Friday have no chance to be treated fairly.”
“Especially Andi Carillo, right?” Coach C said with a smile.
Jeff flushed a little. “Look, she’s my friend, you know that. But really, in this case I’m talking about all of them. Isn’t there something you can do?”
Coach C shrugged. “Like what?” he said.
“Talk to Coach Josephson? I mean, didn’t it help when you talked to Coach Johnston during soccer season?”
“Maybe a little,” Coach C said. “But that was different. I was his assistant coach and we were friends. If Amy Josephson isn’t going to listen to her assistant, why would she listen to me?”
Sadly, he had a point. “What about the girls’ varsity coaches?” Jeff said. “Hasn’t Ms. Hanks been coaching the varsity for about a hundred years?”
Mary Ann Hanks was also a gym teacher and Jeff had heard the seventh- and eighth-grade girls loved playing for her. In fact, he’d heard it from Andi at one point when she was lamenting having to play for Coach Josephson. “If I make it to next year, it’ll be nice playing for a coach who knows what she’s doing,” she had said.
Coach C smiled. “It’s not a bad idea, but Mary Ann is Amy’s close friend. In fact, I think she was the one who encouraged Amy to give coaching a whirl.”
“She’s her close friend?”
“So I’m told.”
“Then who better to talk to her? She might be the one person Coach Josephson will listen to.”
Coach C thought about that one for a minute. “Well,” he finally said. “It might be worth a shot. In fact, it may be the only shot.”
When Andi walked into practice that day, she found Coach Josephson standing at the jump circle with Bonnie Tuller, who taught sixth-grade English. Andi was in her class and liked her. But she wondered exactly what she knew about basketball.
Coach Josephson got right to the point after whistling everyone to the circle.
“I know you all received Coach Axelson’s e-mail today saying she is stepping down as my assistant coach,” she said. “Frankly, I was disappointed by Joan’s decision—mostly for her sake because I don’t think quitting is ever a good thing.” She turned to Ms. Tuller and, with a rare smile, said, “Fortunately, Bonnie Tuller has volunteered to step in for her. Like me, she hasn’t coached before—except in the backyard with her kids, which to me is excellent preparation to coach at this level. Coach, would you like to say a few words?”
Coach Tuller stepped forward and looked around. “I know none of you wanted to start the season oh and two,” she said. “How about we wipe the slate clean starting today? We’re playing Haverford tomorrow and conference play starts soon after that…”
Eleanor put her hand up and said, “Um, Coach, Haverford’s a conference game.”
“Don’t interrupt, Dove,” Coach Josephson said.
“No, it’s okay, Amy,” Coach Tuller said. “My mistake. I’m learning as I go here. Thanks, Eleanor.”
Learning as she goes, Andi thought. Just what the team needed. Coach Tuller was clearly a nice person, but she didn’t seem likely to stand up to Coach Josephson the way Coach Axelson had at least tried to do.
“Okay,” Coach Josephson said. “Like Coach Tuller said, we start conference play tomorrow. Let’s get stretched and do some drills, then we’ll scrimmage.”
Everyone looked at Coach Tuller. It had always been Coach Axelson who had led stretching and drill work. She clearly had no idea about that.
It took Coach Josephson a second or two to figure that out. She looked at Jamie Bronson. “Tell you what, Jamie, you lead the stretching today. Give Coach Tuller a chance to see what it’s about.”
The good news, Andi thought, was that she was so preoccupied convincing everyone that Bonnie Tuller was the next Pat Summitt that she’d forgotten her promise (threat?) not to forget what had happened on Friday.
The bad news? Everything else.