Homecourt Advantage (40 page)

“But he’s done—”

Trina interrupted Casey. “You either commit yourself to be his wife and put all of your love and faith into it or maybe you should leave. Three years is a long time to be in a holding pattern. That was a fourteen-year lesson for me firsthand. And I’m not saying that I won’t take Rick back, but a decision had to be made. It had reached that point. I may let him come back, but only if he comes back right. Brent’s a good man. And I think in your heart of hearts, you know that better than anyone.”

“Is that enough?”

“Only you can decide, but I think you already know. You’re right, Casey. What he did three years ago was wrong, but he’s tried to make amends—you’ve said so yourself. Forgiving is hard, but it’s worth it.”

“Yeah, I found out he’s been seeing his daughter after promising he’d cut off all contact except financial support. The disgusting part is, it was Alexis who told me.”

“Yeah, good ‘ol Alexis. Come on, how could you expect a man like

Brent not to want to have a relationship with his own flesh and blood? Would you rather he be like Rick—able to jet out when blood ties aren’t convenient? No matter how she came into the world, I don’t see Brent turning his back on that responsibility.” Trina got up from the table. “Lucky you.”

Suddenly Casey felt ashamed looking at Trina, pregnant, alone, with two other young children to care for. “Any sign of him softening up about the baby?” Casey asked.

“Well, it’s not like he’s overjoyed now, but since he heard it was another boy, he seemed to get a little excited. But what if the doctor made a mistake and it’s really a girl? Then what? I don’t know, Casey. I’d have to be sure he’s grown before I open that door back up for him.”

Trina shook her head and walked toward the cordless phone as it started to ring. She looked a bit weary as she lifted the receiver.

Casey wanted to be sure about her marriage with Brent too, but she wondered if that was possible … if certainty in a relationship was ever truly attainable. Should she simply be grateful for the loving bond they shared and enjoy it, or constantly rehash his wrongs?

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Trina excitedly said as she hung up the phone.

Casey watched as Trina did a little dance, pushing her hands against the sky and wiggling her wide-set hips.

“They approved it, Casey! They approved my application for a small-business loan!”

“Congratulations!” Casey said, mustering up as much enthusiasm as possible under the circumstances.

“I got to call my aunt Thelma and tell her,” Trina said, picking up the phone again and quickly punching in the numbers.

Casey smiled. Trina was right; Casey did have to stop riding the fence. Her relationship could not bear the strain of it much longer.

After three years of holding a silent grudge against Brent, was she finally ready to remove the scab over her heart?

“Damn, Coach, what are you trying to do, kill us? Rick
gasped as Coach headed off the court.

That’s exactly what he’s trying to do, Brent thought, watching all of his teammates heaving. The excruciating practice was unheard-of for a game day, doubly so considering it was the morning of the last game in the championship series. Tonight was it.

Coach walked quickly toward the locker-room area. Most of the other guys were still panting. The Flyers and Lakers were tied at three games apiece and the title was on the line. It was all or nothing, but the way Coach just had them playing, Brent felt as if he might not have enough energy to last through the actual game tonight.

Coach had had the team racing through unnecessary drills and playing one scrimmage after the next. None of the guys had been prepared for such an intense practice, and many had not even bothered to tape their ankles to protect against injuries. Brent hadassumed they would just be shooting around, which was the team’s normal practice routine for game days. He should have known better after everything that had been going on. It defied logic for Coach to have them practicing so hard the day of the final game. No matter how Brent looked at it, Coach’s actions did not add up.

Now Brent had a good idea of what was really going on and he was determined to get to the bottom of it before tonight’s game. Shaking his head, he still couldn’t get Steve’s words out of his mind. It was so hard to believe—impossible to believe. But as Brent replayed the reel of the last few weeks with Coach and Jake, as much as he hated to admit it to himself, Kelly had probably been telling the truth to Steve. There was too much at stake to delay confronting Coach.

Paul slowly dribbled the ball over to Brent with a look of exhaustion on his face. He began to shake his head in disgust. “We gotta make Coach talk to us, Brent. He still hasn’t given Steve the game plays and he obviously has no intention of doing it.”

“I know. He’s still not gonna put Steve back in the lineup.”

“And what the hell was he trying to prove with this marathon practice? We’re all gonna be dead tonight. There was no reason for us to practice that hard—unless it’s really true, but it’s … it’s so …”

“I know, I know. This has gone too far. I wish we had lit into his ass before practice,” Brent said, throwing down his towel and storming off the court.

He was fuming as he made his way through the tunnel to Coach’s office. This might be his only opportunity to ever win a championship, and he wasn’t going to let anyone jeopardize it, especially his own coach.

Paul caught up with Brent. “What if he won’t talk to us?”

“He’s gonna have to. I’m not giving him a choice,” Brent said, opening the door to Coach’s office without knocking. Brent took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder at Paul. “You ready?”

Paul nodded his head and followed Brent into the office. Brent and Paul walked right up to Coach’s desk and sat down, waiting for him to turn around. Coach appeared to be inspecting the aerial-view painting of the Mecca Arena hanging behind his desk.

Coach cleared his throat but remained standing with his back turned. “Since when don’t we knock before entering my office?”

“Ever since you stopped acting like our head coach,” Brent quickly shot back.

“I see.” Coach turned around toward Brent and Paul.

“That’s all you have to say?” Paul asked.

“Why would I have anything else to say to either of you about anything I do?” Coach smugly began as he took a seat behind his desk. “I’ve already explained my reasons for the new rotations, which was more than I was obligated to do in the first place. If you think—”

Brent interrupted, “We’re not only talking about that. Why do you have us practicing this hard the day of the final game? You know that doesn’t make any sense. Most of the guys are gonna be too exhausted to play tonight.”

“Look, I don’t have to answer to either of you. But let me remind you of something for the record. I’ve never followed anyone’s coaching rules except my own, and if I happen to decide on a new tactic on the morning of the NBA championship, that’s my prerogative. That’s what I get paid to do. I’m the coach, and you two get paid to play by my rules.”

“You got me pegged wrong, Coach,” Paul began as he sat forward, meeting Coach head-on. “I get paid to win, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s supposed to be your objective too.”

“Winning has always been my objective in this game. One look at my coaching record and anyone can see that. How do you think we made it to the finals in the first place?”

“We didn’t make it this far with what we’re doing now, that’s for damn sure. With Steve and Collin on the bench, we’re lucky to still be alive in this series,” said Brent angrily.

“Steve and Collin put themselves in their predicaments, not me.”

“Whatever predicament you may think they put themselves in is irrelevant now because it’s affecting the whole team,” Brent said.

“Well, they should have thought about that before they acted. Shouldn’t they?”

“Come on, Coach, we all know that’s bullshit. The charges against Steve have been dropped. They were bogus from the beginning. Youshould know that, of all people. You have no objective reason not to play him tonight,” Brent insisted.

“Well, the damage has been done now. Everyone thinks that Steve beat the woman anyway and that he just paid her off to be quiet,” Coach said matter-of-factly.

It was astounding to Brent that a man he had respected so much as a coach could transform before his eyes.

“You’re not making any sense,” Paul said. “Kelly didn’t simply drop the charges against Steve for money. She admitted to the press that she had lied about the whole thing. Come on, Coach, I know you’ve got to realize how preposterous you sound. There’s no reason in the world why Steve should not be back in the lineup. Or is there? He’s been exonerated and he shouldn’t have been taken out in the first place.” Paul threw his hands up in the air.

“Look, the two of you have no place questioning me. I already told you how hard Commissioner McDeavitt and the sponsors are coming down on me trying to protect the image and integrity of the league. It’s out of my jurisdiction.”

Brent looked skeptically at Coach and wondered if he even realized how much he had contradicted himself just in this short conversation and the previous one in the sauna. It was obvious that Coach was lying, but as Brent thought about it, he realized two could play at this game.

“So it’s out of your hands, huh?” Brent asked.

“Out of my hands,” Coach said, wiping his hands together in the air.

“Hmmm. So what’s the reason behind you benching Collin, then?” Brent said.

Coach began to shuffle the papers in front of him. “Same reason.”

“You can’t not play a guy because he’s gay,” Paul blurted.

Brent looked at Paul to quiet him. Coach needed to be strung along just enough to hang himself.

“Pressures from the powers that be? Commissioner McDeavitt and sponsors again?” Brent pressed.

“Precisely,” Coach said, placing the papers on top of his desk in the drawer. “So I think that should cover it. Now, if the two of you will excuse me, please.”

“You know, Coach, I find it a little strange that not five minutes ago, you were damn self-righteous about how much control you have as the coach of this team. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that you could play exactly who you chose to play if that were the case?”

“I … My control is of this team … not of the whole NBA. I can’t do anything to contradict the NBA’s overriding standards.”

“Those standards and rules have been met as far as Steve and Collin are concerned. And anyway, I thought you followed your own coaching tactics. Why such deference all of a sudden?”

“It’s not all of a sudden. Like I said, I told you guys this when they handed me the orders.”

“Coach? You’re taking orders from Commissioner McDeavitt? Brent, have you ever known Coach to take orders from the commissioner?” Paul said, turning toward Brent.

“Never. I didn’t know he took orders, not even from Hal,” Brent responded sarcastically. “Coach, please tell me something. How stupid do we look to you? Just tell me that. Your whole story is so full of holes you’re getting us wet with your slop.”

“What story? I’m just following orders. Now, why don’t you get out of here and rest up for the game. You’re wasting my time.”

“I’m disappointed in you, Coach. You never follow orders,” Paul said as if on cue.

Brent sat staring at Coach, trying to figure out his best angle of attack. Paul had already planted the seed. “Especially since you never got any orders in the first place. At least not from who you say you got them from. Isn’t that right?” Brent said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Coach said.

“Don’t you?” Brent began as he rose from his seat and began walking around to Coach’s side of the desk. “You see, Coach, I’ve been making some calls of my own … talking to people … to companies … specifically to Flyers sponsors, and I even had some business partners conduct a little due diligence on the whole team’s behalf. I also had a few calls put in to good old Commissioner McDeavitt. And you know what I found out? You’ve been feeding us a crock of shit. Guess what. The commissioner doesn’t have a problem with a gay player; he just wants the most competitive series possible. In fact, the commissioneris a little gun-shy of being targeted by gay activists. The last thing he wants is for the NBA to be labeled as homophobic. They’d break all kinds of equal protection laws by not allowing Collin to play.”

Coach’s face was turning whiter by the second. Brent could see Paul’s look of surprise, but he didn’t want to lose the momentum of his story.

“And you know what else I found out? Not one sponsor planned on pulling their advertisements after the story in the
Post
about Collin. In fact, according to a friend of mine at NBC, the ratings for the finals skyrocketed to an all-time high after that piece ran.” Brent leaned against the desk inches from where Coach was sitting.

“I … I didn’t … I said it was the powers that be … not the …” Coach stammered.

“Save it. You’ve obviously got your own agenda,” Brent said.

“Yeah, and the powers that be are somebody else or—” Paul chimed in.

“Some other corporate entity,” Brent interrupted.

“You guys are talking nonsense.”

“Are we? I don’t think so. How bout you, Brent?”

“I know we’re not. In fact, we’re right on the money. Aren’t we … Coach? I know we are. And you know what sealed it for me?” Brent began, but caught himself. He had assured Steve he wouldn’t use Kelly’s name in this. Steve was afraid for her safety if it came out that she was the leak. Apparently Hightower’s henchman had contacted a number of people associated with the Flyers. Steve didn’t want it coming back on Kelly, even though it would probably serve her right.

“What sealed it for me was when I received a phone call confirming everything about your—how should I put it—'subversive activities’ maybe. You’ve been trying to make us lose. It’s only been by sheer will and a little luck that we won the three we’ve won so far in this series. You sabotaged us. I know you, Coach; well, at least I thought I did. Even if I hadn’t gotten confirmation of my hunch, I know what the team winning means … meant to you. But now I know something else means a hell of a lot more to you.”