Andi managed to get through the rest of the week without any more run-ins with her coach.
As she had expected, the team quickly divided into cliques. Hers was Eleanor, Maria, and Lisa. At the opposite end of the pole was Jamie Bronson’s fan club, which included Alayne, Jenny, and Hope. Stuck squarely in the middle were the other four players—Debbie Lee, Brooke Jensen, Randi Eisen, and Ronnie Bonilla—who didn’t really side with either group.
Over the summer Andi had watched the old movie West Side Story. It was a musical based on the story of Romeo and Juliet, who had fallen in love with each other even though their families were sworn enemies.
In West Side Story, Tony and Maria fell in love. It wasn’t their families who fought one another but rival gangs: Tony was white and a member of the Jets. Maria was Hispanic and her brother was the leader of the Sharks.
Eleanor, Maria, and Lisa had started sitting with Andi and Jeff at lunch, and Andi brought up the movie one day, explaining the basic plot.
“So what happens to me in the end?” Maria asked.
“Well,” Andi said, “Maria lives, but Tony dies.”
“Gee, not exactly a happy ending,” Jeff said.
“No,” Andi said. “The story is supposed to make a point about what hate can do to people.”
“Well,” Eleanor said after a long sip of lemonade, “I guess the good news is, no one’s going to die on our basketball team.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Andi said. “But it could kill our basketball season.”
“Not exactly tragic,” Jeff put in.
Andi smiled. “Easy for you to say.”
Jeff wasn’t exactly thrilled with the presence of Eleanor, Maria, and Lisa at lunch. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them—he did, although he did his best to avoid standing next to Eleanor when they all went through the line to pick up food. For some reason being towered over by a girl felt worse than being towered over by a boy.
What bothered him was losing his alone time with Andi. Lunch was always the part of the day when they caught up with each other and shared gossip and stories. Now it was a group conversation, and since the four girls were on the same team, there was a lot more talk about that team than about Jeff’s team or life.
Not surprisingly, it didn’t take Andi long to pick up on his discomfort.
Their one afternoon class together was earth science—last period. That usually gave them a couple minutes to talk before one of them had to head to practice.
“You were quiet at lunch today,” Andi said after class on Thursday.
Jeff smiled. “Not a lot of room for me to talk,” he said.
She nodded. “I get it. You’re used to just you and me going back and forth. This is different.”
“A lot different,” Jeff said, with more emphasis on lot than he had intended.
She shot him a look. “They’re really nice, you know,” she said.
“I know they are,” Jeff said. “But it’s just…”
“Different, l know,” she said after he paused.
“Yeah,” he said. “And since there are four of you and one of me, it isn’t like a lot of the conversation’s going to focus on me or on the boys’ team. I mean, I get it…”
She gave him her dazzling smile. “But you’d rather have me all to yourself.”
“Well, yeah,” Jeff admitted, feeling his cheeks heat up.
“Let’s see how it goes for a little while longer at least,” she said, glancing at the clock above the doorway they were passing through. “I have to get to study hall and you have to get to practice. Let’s talk later.”
Jeff didn’t really think there was much to talk about. He understood why she would want to have the other three girls join them at lunch. Suddenly, an idea flashed through his head, and before he had the time to lose his courage, he heard himself talking.
“Maybe we can find some other time to talk, you know, just us,” he said.
She patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s talk about it later.”
And she was gone.
Easy for you to say, Jeff thought.
Jeff and Andi texted periodically throughout the weekend, but there was no further discussion of finding another time to hang out together.
Jeff and his dad went to the Palestra on Saturday afternoon to see Temple play Penn. Jeff’s dad didn’t often go to games as a spectator—unless he was with Jeff. Sometimes his dad would get a media credential for Jeff so he could sit with him on press row. That didn’t happen often, though, and it wasn’t going to happen for a Big Five game where every seat on press row would be occupied.
Still, they had very good seats—actually, there were no bad seats in the Palestra—about ten rows up from the Penn bench.
“So how come you aren’t working today?” Jeff asked his dad as they sat down, each with a Philadelphia pretzel and a soda in hand.
“Have the Eagles tomorrow,” his dad reminded him. “Truth is, I’d rather work this game, but not working the Eagles isn’t an option.”
Jeff understood this. He knew that Philadelphia was pretty much like every NFL town—only more so. The Eagles weren’t so much a passion for people as an obsession. This had become even truer a few years back when they had finally won the Super Bowl for the first time.
Tom Michaels had worked at NBC Sports–Philadelphia for twelve years. That meant he’d been there Jeff’s entire life. Before that, he’d worked at the Philadelphia Daily News, but seeing the downward trend in the newspaper business, he’d accepted the offer to go work on television for the local sports station and had been their lead reporter on everything—but most important the Eagles—ever since.
Jeff had been in the press box at Lincoln Financial Field—aka “the Linc,” to everyone in Philadelphia—prior to Eagles games in the past. He couldn’t sit there during a game because NFL rules said you had to be at least eighteen to sit in the press box during a game.
But he’d always been amazed at the number of media members who showed up to cover the Eagles and how seriously they all seemed to take the idea of covering football.
Jeff knew his dad didn’t take it nearly as seriously. He’d often said he enjoyed stories that most people didn’t want to cover more than those that everyone was covering. That was why Jeff had been able to convince him to do a story on Andi when she was being denied a spot on the soccer team. His father’s story had led to something of a media frenzy. When Andi got a chance to play—and play well—he and several other reporters had returned to follow up.
“So, we haven’t had much time to talk this week,” his dad said. “How’s your team shaping up?”
“Hard to tell,” Jeff answered, “since we’re playing against each other right now. We’ll learn a lot, I think, playing against Camden. Their high school teams are always really good, so I’d guess their middle school teams are good too.”
“Nationally ranked good,” his dad said. “Of course, who knows about a sixth-grade team?”
The game tipped off and they talked less, both focused on the court.
During the first TV time-out, his dad asked, “You think you’ll start?”
“I think so,” Jeff answered. “I should. The only issue is, Ron Arlow wants to be the point guard, too. I’m guessing Coach C will start both of us, but I hope he doesn’t play me off the ball. I’m better at point than Arlow is.”
“Arlow behaving any better than he did in the fall?” his dad asked.
“Not really,” Jeff said. “But this is different. In soccer he was the best player, so we had to put up with him. He’s good in basketball, but not the best player. So I don’t feel intimidated by him the way I did in soccer.”
“He was the second-best player,” his dad said. “Andi was the best player. And you know what? By the end of the season, I’m not sure he was the second-best player. Might have been you, the way you improved.”
Jeff smiled. “Dad, I thought reporters were supposed to be unbiased.”
His dad smiled back. “Not when their son’s involved. Or his best friend.” He paused and then added, “And I’m not that biased.”
Jeff just smiled. He wanted another pretzel.
Before Monday’s practice began, Coach C told the players he and Coach B had decided on the starters for the Camden game.
“This is all subject to change,” he said. “It could change for the game Friday or it could change in January. Or, it might not change at all—though that’s unlikely. We’re going to judge you from game to game, at least for right now. We think we have twelve guys on this team who can play and play well, so we’re going to make sure everybody plays—certainly tomorrow afternoon.
“So, for now, here are the starters: James, Tayler, Matthew, Arlow, and Michaels.”
To Jeff, there were no surprises in that group, except for Tavon Washington not being the starter at center. He was a better shooter than Camden James, but James was the tallest player on the team at six-two. Tate Matthew and Crew Tayler would be the forwards. Crew was about five-eight and had the skills to play guard. Arlow and Jeff were clearly the two best guards.
Jeff glanced at Danny Diskin, whose look of disappointment was easy to see. Danny’s problem was that he was what coaches called a tweener. He wasn’t a good enough ball handler or shooter to play outside, but he also wasn’t tall enough to be really effective inside, although his strength certainly helped him as a rebounder.
Arlow had his hand up. “Coach, which of us has the point?” he asked.
“To start the game, Michaels,” Coach C said. “But you’ll both see time there.”
Clearly that wasn’t the answer Arlow wanted to hear. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the ceiling. Coach C looked at him for a second, then moved on.
“Al, you’re up,” he said, turning to Coach B.
From the clipboard he was carrying, the assistant coach took out slips of paper. He walked around the circle, handing one to each player.
“Go sit for a minute and use the bleachers to back up your voting slips. Write one name down for captain and hand the slips back to me.”
They all did as instructed.
“We’ll let you know at the end of practice who’s going to be captain,” Coach C said. “Okay, let’s stretch.”
The next fifty-five minutes took about four hours to pass. Jeff thought he had a decent chance to be elected captain. He was glad the coaches weren’t simply going to appoint Arlow—or anyone else—the captain. However it worked out, Jeff was comfortable with it being decided by a fair vote.
The only thing noteworthy about the practice was how evenly matched the starters and subs seemed to be. Tavon Washington, clearly unhappy about not starting, outplayed Cam James most of the day. Danny Diskin could also compete with the starters. Mike Roth, who played the off-guard spot for the second team, could shoot, although he usually needed a good screen or pass to get his shot off.
At 4:13 p.m., with the girls ringing the court for their practice, Coach C blew his whistle—which he didn’t do very often—and brought them all to the center jump circle.
“Gentlemen, we have a tie in the vote for captain,” he said. “No need to break it. We’ll just have cocaptains.”
He paused for a second and smiled while everyone waited in suspense.
“Congratulations,” he finally said, “to Jeff Michaels and Ron Arlow.”
Jeff’s heart leaped and fell with a thud, all in about two seconds. Everyone was clapping. Arlow was clearly just as unhappy as he was.
“Captains,” Coach C said. “Bring ’em in. Let’s hear ‘one and oh,’ on three.”
Jeff and Arlow moved to the middle of the circle, looking more like wrestlers circling each other than newly named cocaptains.
“Ready?” Jeff asked Arlow as he raised his hand in the air and everyone moved in around them.
Arlow didn’t answer. Instead, he threw his hand up and said, “On three, one and oh!” Everyone responded with, “One, two, three, one and oh!”
Everyone except Jeff. His arm still in the air, he was glaring at Arlow. Their cocaptaincy was off to a great start.
As everyone headed for the locker room, Jeff had one thought: Who the heck had voted for Arlow?