Going the Distance Read online

  One by one they filed out of the locker room, Cody giving me a shoulder shrug in a way of saying “Sorry, you just got fucked” as he left.

  The coach turned around and opened the file cabinet in the corner. “If you want to cry or scream or lose it, now’s the time to do it.”

  “I’m not going to cry,” I said coldly.

  He stopped what he was doing and looked over at me. After a few seconds he admitted, “No, I don’t think you are.” He went back to digging through the cabinet as I tried to formulate my next words.

  “I don’t know if this is going to work,” I started with.

  “Then make it work,” he responded, not even looking up.

  “They don’t like me,” I said, standing.

  “So?” He slammed the top drawer and opened the next. “They aren’t here to like you. They’re here to listen to you.”

  “But they won’t!” I exclaimed.

  He pulled out a circular patch that had a capital C on it. “Then make them listen,” he said, tossing it at me. “You’re captain now, deal with it.”

  I looked at the patch, never in my life hating something as much as I did that little piece of cloth. The coach walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Danny, you have a gift. If you don’t learn to share it with others, it will do you no good in the long run. God gave you basketball. I’m about to give you leadership. If you are as good at one as you are the other, you have no idea how far you’ll go.” He continued walking out toward the gym and said over his shoulder, “You have five minutes, then I want you on the court.”

  And I was alone.

  The funny thing was that in no way was this a new feeling for me. I had wandered through most of my life with nothing but my dad’s support. I still had that, and this time there was Cody on my side as well. What the rest of the team didn’t know was that even though they had all shunned and ignored me, I had already effectively doubled the number of people I cared about in the past three weeks. I wasn’t afraid of them not liking me. I was afraid of them not liking me so much we’d lose. Being hated I could handle; being hated and losing I could not.

  My first thought was the same thought any male teenager would have in that situation—try to force my dominance on them. Nine-tenths of high school consisted of what my dad had called social evolution. Forcing your own self to be yourself in spite of the pressure around you to conform to someone else’s version of you constituted evolution. I didn’t want to be the stuck-up know-it-all who walked on to the team thinking he was better than everyone else. That guy was the person they thought I was and the person it looked like I needed to be at first glance. The only thing was that I had a voice in the back of my head telling me there was another way to get this done. A way to not only show these guys I was here to help them but to win games as well.

  When the five minutes were up, I knew what I had to do.

  I walked out into the gym changed. I wasn’t going to be hesitant or embarrassed into being timid anymore. The coach had effectively ended that mode of behavior for me. I knew I was going to be hated for acting like a captain and equally reviled if I didn’t act like one. I walked over to the coach and said, in the best estimation of my dad’s voice I could muster, “I have a few thoughts on the season and how we can win.”

  His mouth slowly spread into a grin as he grabbed his whistle and blew it twice. “Everyone, line up.” The guys stopped jogging and made their way over to the court line. I’m sure they were a little more pissed because I wasn’t sweating like them, but I couldn’t worry about that crap. “Listen up, your captain has a few words to say.”

  I saw the eye rolls from most, and Tommy elbowed the guy next to him as he muttered something under his breath. He knew I had seen him and was daring me to say something. He had a long way to go if he was going to actually piss me off. “Okay, let’s lay it down,” I said, pacing as I tried to formulate my thoughts. “Anyone here think they can outplay me?” No one moved. “One on one, anyone think they can beat me?” I looked at Tommy, who said nothing but glared. No one else dared speak up, so I went on. “Right, so you know I’m the best guy on the team. What we need is for everyone else to know it.”

  Tommy raised his hand, and I shook my head. “If you got something to add, say it. Don’t need my permission.”

  He lowered his hand as he said, “So let me guess, we’re going to build our whole game around you? The rest of us on the court are just going to be the guys who pass to you all game?” I saw almost everyone else nod and agree with him, happy someone else had voiced the sentiment.

  “You have a problem with that?” the coach roared, but I held up my hand.

  “Actually, Coach, I have a problem with that,” I said, cutting him off. I never took my eyes off of Tommy’s as I kept talking. “See, that’s what we want people to think. We want as many people as possible to think that I’m going to be our secret weapon.”

  Cody cocked his head and asked, “If it’s not you, what is our secret weapon?”

  I smiled as I silently thanked him for the setup. “You guys are. See, I don’t want the ball at all.”

  Everyone looked confused except the coach. “You want to force the other team to play to you.”

  I nodded as I explained. “Look, if I was our secret weapon, it’d take them five minutes to figure out that double- or even triple-teaming me is the key to locking the team down. We don’t do that; we use me as a decoy.”

  “Decoy?” Tommy asked, skeptical.

  I nodded. “We force them to go man-to-man with me. No matter how good they are, that’s going to leave at least one person unguarded.”

  “And if they don’t take the bait?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Then I blow past my defender, score, and teach them the error of their ways. A couple of those, and they’ll put a guy back on me.” The guys all just stared at me, not sure if they were truly understanding what I was suggesting. “All we have to do is practice layups that look like we’re trying to move me into position to score. What we’ll actually be doing is setting the rest of you up for me to pass it off to. Either they watch me and risk you guys scoring or let me go and watch me school them. Which one would you choose?” I asked Tommy.

  “Lock you down,” he answered instantly, and I saw he was getting it. Once the word got out that I had experience on the court and actually knew what I was doing, any team facing us would gang up on me in seconds. High school basketball isn’t big on sacrifice and teamwork. It’s a place for guys to hone their talent and get seen by college scouts “Why would you give up points just to pass it off?”

  “To win,” I said without hesitation. “And if anyone else isn’t here to win, I suggest finding another sport, because we’re going to win a lot this year.” I gave them my best confident smile. “Count on it.”

  Cody pumped his arm, cheering, and a couple of other guys followed, caught up in the moment. I saw Tommy’s expression soften a little. It wasn’t a lot, but I was going to take what I could get right now. I glanced at the coach. “We used to practice keep-away drills in Germany…,” I began.

  He nodded and handed me his playbook. “Way ahead of you”—and with emphasis he added—“Captain.” I thumbed through the plays, and all of them were based on the principle I’d just outlined. I looked over at him while the rest of the guys talked among themselves. “Why didn’t you just tell me this was your plan?”

  He took the book back and put his arm around my shoulder. “Because they needed it to be yours.”

  That was how the season started.

  We built a zone defense principle that became what we jokingly referred to as zone offensive. In a sense, we were practicing reverse basketball. Instead of people moving to positions to get the ball to their best player, our team scrambled to get into place for me to ditch the ball to whoever was standing there. At first we sucked at it pretty bad, since we were relearning the way we played the game. It took about three days of constant practice before we stoppe
d looking like we were doing a bad impersonation of the Washington Generals and began to ease into the new rhythm of play. By that weekend we almost looked like we knew what we were doing.

  That first week nothing changed with the team at all.

  I wasn’t sure what I thought was going to happen, but besides the minimum communication needed to run plays, no one said one extra word to me. Cody tried to convince me they’d come around, but I wasn’t holding out hope for it. My dad took me out to dinner as congratulations on making captain. When I told him about the guys’ reactions, he just nodded and said, “Yeah, that figures.” He kept on eating while I stared at him in disbelief. When he saw my reaction, he asked, “What?”

  “It figures they hate me?” I asked.

  He shook his head as he speared another piece of steak with his fork. “They don’t hate you; they just resent your talent.” He popped the meat into his mouth. “That or they’ve seen you dress out and are jealous of something else.”

  I felt my face burst into flames as I threw a hushed “Dad!” at him and he just burst out laughing.

  Our first Saturday practice after I was named captain was when things began to thaw. We were three hours into what was sure to be at least an eight-hour day, and we were sitting on the sidelines drenched in sweat as the coach went over the moves with a few of the slower players on their own. Tommy came over and tossed me a towel and sat next to me. “Thanks,” I said, wiping my face off and wondering if he had put something on the towel when I wasn’t looking.

  “This is a good idea,” he said, looking across the court as the second squad tried a few layups. I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for me to answer, but since we’d never once had a conversation, I just assumed he was talking to talk. “Took a lot of balls to bring up a plan that basically ensures you’re probably never going to score.” He looked over at me, and we stared at each other for a few seconds. “I don’t think I would have thought of that.” Before I could respond, he stood up and watched the squad run up and down the court for a moment. “Nice call,” he said, walking away, and then added a quieter, “Captain.”

  Practice ended up lasting over nine hours, and I was almost ready to drop at the end, but I had a smile on my face the entire day.

  That next week we began fine-tuning our game as, one by one, guys began asking me questions about specific things they were lagging behind in on the court. At one point I looked over at Cody as I was showing a guy how to pivot on the fly, and he just nodded and smiled. He’d been right; they were coming around.

  By the time Friday rolled around, the school was abuzz with excitement.

  The coach had a rule of dressing up on game days. Button-up shirt, tie, and khakis made us easily recognizable in the halls, which was a new thing for me. Cody and I walked to class before the bell rang, and more than a few girls smiled at us as we walked by, which made our day. “Dude, we so need to win tonight,” he announced after the girls had passed.

  “I want to win for more reasons than just girls,” I said, trying to ignore how much more attractive Cody got when he smiled.

  “Fine, fine,” he said, waving me off. “You play for the love of the game, and I’ll play for the love of them,” he said, nodding to a group of girls who were standing by their lockers watching us walk by.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re skeeving me out.”

  He shot me an evil grin and said, “You have no idea.”

  I wished my body didn’t react to his innuendo, but it did.

  During lunch most of the team sat together and talked about the game that night, while we tried not to freak out. To me it was a huge accomplishment just being asked to sit with them, so I tried to stay quiet as Tommy told us about the team that was coming to play and what he knew about the guys who were playing. Everyone was excited to see how our tactic would work tonight. We were all of the same thought that this was going to be really, really good or really, really bad. Tommy was in the middle of describing a game he’d played in last year when a cheerleader walked up to us and looked at me. “Are you Danny?”

  My mouth full of sandwich, I looked up and almost choked. Cody leaned over me and said with a huge grin, “He is, but I’m Cody.”

  “I know who you are, Cody,” she replied, rolling her eyes. She handed me a small bundle of something wrapped in cellophane tied with a blue and black ribbon, our school colors. “This is for you,” she said shyly. “Good luck tonight.”

  I nodded thanks to her retreating back; she did a little wave over her shoulder and kept on going. The other guys began to howl and nudge me as I turned redder and redder from the attention. “What did she give you?” Cody asked. I opened the plastic wrap, and I saw about a dozen homemade chocolate-chip cookies. I looked back at her as Cody sneaked a cookie from my hand. “Oh snap. She likes you.”

  I pushed him back with my elbow and told him to shut up as I began to eat one of the cookies. They were fucking good! “Who was that?” I asked.

  “Carol Liventry,” Tommy answered, reaching for a cookie. “She’s the sister of Susan Liventry.” When I gave him a look that indicated I had no idea who that was either, he added, “Head cheerleader? Hottest girl in school?”

  I looked at Cody, and he added, “The hot redhead with the huge tits that’s in our geography class.”

  “Oh, her!” I said, nodding as someone else grabbed a cookie. “That’s her sister?”

  Cody took a second cookie and shook his head. “If she grows up to be half as hot as her sister….”

  “She’s cute all by herself,” I said, looking over the quad at her and the other cheerleaders sitting at their own table. Not as cute as Cody, I thought silently, but cute enough.

  That was the day I found out about our boosters.

  Boosters were cheerleaders who were assigned a player to… well, obsess over, I suppose. Sometimes they’d decorate our locker. Other times they made these posters for the games, cheering just their player on. Also I found out they rarely gave them gifts like homemade cookies. When I say rarely, I mean once. The guys would not stop giving me shit about it for the rest of the day.

  It might have been embarrassing or annoying if I wasn’t completely thrilled that the guys were giving me shit. I felt like I’d been accepted as we dressed out that evening, the gym packed for our first game. While we waited for the game to begin, we sat in the locker room, my foot tapping in nervousness as I began to doubt my plan.

  Cody sat down next to me. He put a hand on my knee and stopped my foot. “Dude, you need to calm down,” he whispered. I tried not to react outwardly to him touching me like that, but inside my mind was awash in thoughts of what the gesture meant. “You’re the captain, dude. They take their cues from you. You look like you’re about to throw up, and this is your plan. How do you think they feel?”

  I looked around, and I could see the humming thread of nervousness running through all of us. We were freaked, not just because there were hundreds of people out there in case we failed, but because our entire plan hinged on what might be the worst idea ever suggested. Cody was right, they did need some reassurance, and I supposed it had to come from me. I know I wanted reassurance, but I’m not sure where mine was supposed to come from.

  “Thanks,” I said, putting my hand over his and squeezing. He cocked his head for a moment and then smiled as he pulled his hand back and joked, “Fag!”

  I nudged him back. “You were the one who was feeling me up, Tinker Bell!”

  We laughed together as I stood to address the team. I had a feeling he was laughing more than I was.

  “Okay, so I guess I should say something,” I said, getting everyone’s attention. Everyone’s eyes fell on me, and it struck me as funny that a week ago I would have internally shrunk away from this attention, and now here I was basking in it. “We’re good,” I said, not having any idea how to handle an inspirational speech. “I don’t say that because I’m on the team. I say that because it’s true. If we lose tonight, it’s going to be because
my plan sucked and no other reason. You guys rock, and I hope we can go out there and show them….”

  Tommy stood up, clapping. “Okay, Danny, thanks for that speech. Any more and I think we’re going to start crying.” The guys laughed as I felt myself blush slightly. He came up and put his arm around my shoulders. “We suck,” he said flatly. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t win. I know for a fact the other team sucks more, and we have something they don’t.” He grabbed my wrist and raised my arm over my head. “We have this freak!!” he called out, and the other guys cheered with him. “If we win tonight,” he said, looking at me, “it’s going to be because of you, buddy, so don’t kid yourself.”

  Cody began to softly chant “Danny, Danny, Danny.” A few other guys picked up on it and joined in. By the fifth time, everyone was yelling my name, and I felt a rush of emotion as I heard Tommy chanting my name as well. Before I could say something, the coach walked in and called out, “Do you guys plan on forfeiting the damn game because you’re not on the court?” We all froze in place. “Get out there!” he screamed, and we all moved as one.

  I felt someone slap me on the butt as we headed out. “Let’s kick some ass, Captain.”

  The crowd exploded in cheers as we galloped onto the court.

  I felt Cody pushing me from behind as I paused at the wall of sound that reverberated in front of me. “Keep moving, Jolly Green!” he screamed behind me. I saw my dad in the stands cheering with everyone else. He was on his feet, and I tried not to feel even more nervous that he was there watching. It was different than in Germany because this wasn’t just for fun, this was for a school.

  We headed to our side of the court as the coach huddled us together. “Okay, we have this.” He looked at me. “I need you to go out there and ham it up.” I gave him a confused look, and he explained. “You’re the ringer, Danny. I need you to go out there and sell it.” I nodded, and he looked around at the rest of the guys. “Take your cues from him. He is going to have to decide on the fly if he’s taking the shot or passing it off. Keep on your toes and be ready for the ball at any time.” He put his hand in the middle. “Tigers on three.” We put our hands in and counted to three and called out “Tigers” as loud as we could.