Bouncing Back
You know you should feel uplifted at Coach's speech, and part of you does. But... you still feel that there is what you call a "justified reason" to blame yourself. After all, even Coach sounded dejected when he came into the room. Coach Barnes! You know that if you've disappointed Coach Barnes, you can't begin to think how Sam feels. And it's all your fault. When everybody eventually heads back to their hotel rooms, you look back at the stadium and go back in there. The basketball hoops are still out there and the large scoreboard, but everything is all dark and it's disturbingly quiet. After all, you're the only one in such a large stadium. It makes you feel worse than you did when you lost the game, because you're standing right at the exact spot where you missed your shot with a basketball in your hand.
Even though that shot happened so quickly, you can still recall everything that happened, picture perfect in your head. While hours have gone by, what happened at that game still feels like it happened seconds ago. You go by each play in your head: from the moment you screwed up that pass and went to call a timeout. You begin to pinpoint the game there. That pass you made: you knew you could have made a better pass, but you were being guarded so heavily! You knew passing wasn't one of the things you worked on much in your game even though you were a point guard because you felt that it was something you had down. Apparently it wasn't.
Deciding to move from the three point spot, you walk over to the spot where you had to inbound the ball. Basketball in your hands, eyes closed, you imagine yourself in the exact position you were that moment. With your arms held high and the basketball in between your two hands, you see the Huskies guard that was there. You see his eyes watching you like a hawk, his movements easily copy your movements, and you can see one of your teammates in front of you. You don't let go of the ball yet, because you want to see how you screwed up there.
When you did release the ball at that time of the game, you realize the error in your mistake. You didn't study his footwork close enough, because he was clearly prepared. He copied your every move, and he even saw where you were going to go! His feet were already about to land on the direction to the player you were going to pass. That was something you should have spotted. It didn't matter that you were a third string point guard. You were supposed to know that. You were a point guard of the team, third string or not. Unbelievably frustrated with yourself, you move your arms down and heave the ball at the wall.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! If only there was some way to put the hands in a more capable player, then your team would have won the game!
"You know, I don't recall things happening like that," you hear a distinctive and deep chuckle from across the room. That startles you and causes you turn around to find none other than Coach Mark Barnes walking in your direction.
He sighs when he sees the look in your face.
"It was a joke."
"I don't mean to be rude, sir, but I'm not really in the joking mood right now."
"That much I can tell."
Coach waits for you to walk over and pick up the basketball you just threw at the poor wall as he motions for the two of you to take a seat by the bottom stands. You're not sure if it's irony or not, but the two of you are staring right at the place where you took your shot.
"Since we're doing some reinactments, why don't you bring your ball over there?" he asked, pointing at a spot you were at a while ago.
Wondering what he's up to, you walk over there. He walks in front of you as you begin to get what he's about to do.
"I know that with that 4.0 GPA of yours that you have a pretty good memory, so I don't think I have to even tell you to imagine me as the Huskies guard and tell you the directions I'm going."
You don't bother asking how he knows your GPA, or why he's sighing. You think he's sighing because he's so disappointed in you, but unbeknownst to you, he's sighing at your stubbornness.
"We'll imagine the clock at exactly where it was, and I'll come at you again."
You nod, as he does exactly what the Huskies guard does, and you manage to elude him. You know that you released the ball at 2 seconds, so you do so again. You and Coach look up at the ball, and you wince when you see the ball do exactly what it did when you let go at that time: hit the rim and bounce off.
Coach walks over to pick the basketball and passes it back at you.
"Now replay it again."
Okay, you didn't expect it a second time.
The second time you do it, the same result happens.
And surprisingly, he even makes you do it a third time with the same result happening. Of course, this does nothing except make you feel lousier in that the third time wasn't the charm, and you've only shown how much of a loser to the coach you really are.
After the third time, he gives you back the ball.
"Coach, I don't get a thing you're trying to do. If you wanted to prove to me how worthless I am on the team and that I won't get a shot next year, then that point's already been clearly shown the first, second and the third time."
You see a strange glint in his eyes as he grins. He walks away this time, so that he can't be seen. When you're staring at the basket.
"This time I know it's hard, but don't imagine anybody coming at you. Don't imagine the guard, the score, anything like that."
You still have no idea where he's going with all of this about to shoot before he stops you.
"I know you're still imagining even the smallest detail, Jack. Close your eyes and listen to me."
You do so, and it takes a while to not imagine anything from the game, but you're able to once you shoot with no distractions in your head. With a clear mind, you let go of the basketball and you hear a swish.
Then you hear a clapping sound that reverberates through the walls of the arena once you open your eyes. You see Coach, smiling at you. Not sighing, not angry, disappointed, or anything negative at all.
"Do you get it now?" he asks.
"I... I think so."
"You can't continue beating yourself up over this. I'm not going to lie to you and say that nobody's going to blame you for missing the shot, because there will be people like that. Some always see what once happened and they are so blind that they can't see talent when there clearly is talent to be shown. And yes Jack, I am complimenting you."
You're confused as to why he's doing this and his reasons are making more sense, but you can't help but wonder why somebody would bother to take time out and tell you not to continue looking in the past. Even if it is Coach.
He points back to the stands and you two sit. He pats your back.
"Son, let me tell you a little story about a boy who was in a bit of a similar situation."
You look up, your shocked expression causing Coach to chuckle.
"Yes, I was in the same situation a long time ago when I was young. This was on my middle school team, and the situation was eerily similar to every last detail of the end of this game, except I was a shooting guard, not a point guard. I was always backup to the star of my team back then, who was an outstanding shooter, and an outstanding player. Like Sam, he got fouled out, and, well I think you can tell you where this is all going."
You nod, and you can see that same sad look that he showed when he was in the locker room, except this time he wasn't smiling. He let out a heavy sigh.
"That day caused me to doubt myself. I never played basketball again, and that decision eventually came to haunt me. My love of the game was too strong, so I had to come back in some sort of form, but when I decided to come back, it was as a coach. Gone were my chances to try to prove I had something to myself while playing basketball because by the time I came back to being a coach, I was too old to play at the pros. Some said I had talent and could still make it to the big leagues, some still blamed me, and you know what I did?"
You gulp.
"You let the negative advice get the best of you."
Coach nods.
"In some ways, it was the worst decision of my life, and some, the best. It was the worst decision in my life because I never got to prove something to myself as a basketball player, but it was good for me because it got me into coaching kids, and helping out kids who would be in similar situations, and eventually, of course, you guys. Now do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yeah."
"Good, because it's almost midnight and an old man like me needs my rest at this time of night."
This time the two of you laugh at this, as your mood is cheered up a bit.
As the two of you are walking, you decide to speak.
"Coach?"
"Hmm?"
"Thanks."
"No problem. Jack, you still have a good shot on this team, and I know a lot about you because I've had a lot of talks with Sam about you."
"Really?"
"How else would I have known about that 4.0 GPA of yours?"
"That's a good point..."
"You're a smart kid. Don't let what other people have to say affect your decisions in life."
"I won't. Oh, and Coach?"
"Hm?"
You grin at him.
"My name is Jake."
Even though that shot happened so quickly, you can still recall everything that happened, picture perfect in your head. While hours have gone by, what happened at that game still feels like it happened seconds ago. You go by each play in your head: from the moment you screwed up that pass and went to call a timeout. You begin to pinpoint the game there. That pass you made: you knew you could have made a better pass, but you were being guarded so heavily! You knew passing wasn't one of the things you worked on much in your game even though you were a point guard because you felt that it was something you had down. Apparently it wasn't.
Deciding to move from the three point spot, you walk over to the spot where you had to inbound the ball. Basketball in your hands, eyes closed, you imagine yourself in the exact position you were that moment. With your arms held high and the basketball in between your two hands, you see the Huskies guard that was there. You see his eyes watching you like a hawk, his movements easily copy your movements, and you can see one of your teammates in front of you. You don't let go of the ball yet, because you want to see how you screwed up there.
When you did release the ball at that time of the game, you realize the error in your mistake. You didn't study his footwork close enough, because he was clearly prepared. He copied your every move, and he even saw where you were going to go! His feet were already about to land on the direction to the player you were going to pass. That was something you should have spotted. It didn't matter that you were a third string point guard. You were supposed to know that. You were a point guard of the team, third string or not. Unbelievably frustrated with yourself, you move your arms down and heave the ball at the wall.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! If only there was some way to put the hands in a more capable player, then your team would have won the game!
"You know, I don't recall things happening like that," you hear a distinctive and deep chuckle from across the room. That startles you and causes you turn around to find none other than Coach Mark Barnes walking in your direction.
He sighs when he sees the look in your face.
"It was a joke."
"I don't mean to be rude, sir, but I'm not really in the joking mood right now."
"That much I can tell."
Coach waits for you to walk over and pick up the basketball you just threw at the poor wall as he motions for the two of you to take a seat by the bottom stands. You're not sure if it's irony or not, but the two of you are staring right at the place where you took your shot.
"Since we're doing some reinactments, why don't you bring your ball over there?" he asked, pointing at a spot you were at a while ago.
Wondering what he's up to, you walk over there. He walks in front of you as you begin to get what he's about to do.
"I know that with that 4.0 GPA of yours that you have a pretty good memory, so I don't think I have to even tell you to imagine me as the Huskies guard and tell you the directions I'm going."
You don't bother asking how he knows your GPA, or why he's sighing. You think he's sighing because he's so disappointed in you, but unbeknownst to you, he's sighing at your stubbornness.
"We'll imagine the clock at exactly where it was, and I'll come at you again."
You nod, as he does exactly what the Huskies guard does, and you manage to elude him. You know that you released the ball at 2 seconds, so you do so again. You and Coach look up at the ball, and you wince when you see the ball do exactly what it did when you let go at that time: hit the rim and bounce off.
Coach walks over to pick the basketball and passes it back at you.
"Now replay it again."
Okay, you didn't expect it a second time.
The second time you do it, the same result happens.
And surprisingly, he even makes you do it a third time with the same result happening. Of course, this does nothing except make you feel lousier in that the third time wasn't the charm, and you've only shown how much of a loser to the coach you really are.
After the third time, he gives you back the ball.
"Coach, I don't get a thing you're trying to do. If you wanted to prove to me how worthless I am on the team and that I won't get a shot next year, then that point's already been clearly shown the first, second and the third time."
You see a strange glint in his eyes as he grins. He walks away this time, so that he can't be seen. When you're staring at the basket.
"This time I know it's hard, but don't imagine anybody coming at you. Don't imagine the guard, the score, anything like that."
You still have no idea where he's going with all of this about to shoot before he stops you.
"I know you're still imagining even the smallest detail, Jack. Close your eyes and listen to me."
You do so, and it takes a while to not imagine anything from the game, but you're able to once you shoot with no distractions in your head. With a clear mind, you let go of the basketball and you hear a swish.
Then you hear a clapping sound that reverberates through the walls of the arena once you open your eyes. You see Coach, smiling at you. Not sighing, not angry, disappointed, or anything negative at all.
"Do you get it now?" he asks.
"I... I think so."
"You can't continue beating yourself up over this. I'm not going to lie to you and say that nobody's going to blame you for missing the shot, because there will be people like that. Some always see what once happened and they are so blind that they can't see talent when there clearly is talent to be shown. And yes Jack, I am complimenting you."
You're confused as to why he's doing this and his reasons are making more sense, but you can't help but wonder why somebody would bother to take time out and tell you not to continue looking in the past. Even if it is Coach.
He points back to the stands and you two sit. He pats your back.
"Son, let me tell you a little story about a boy who was in a bit of a similar situation."
You look up, your shocked expression causing Coach to chuckle.
"Yes, I was in the same situation a long time ago when I was young. This was on my middle school team, and the situation was eerily similar to every last detail of the end of this game, except I was a shooting guard, not a point guard. I was always backup to the star of my team back then, who was an outstanding shooter, and an outstanding player. Like Sam, he got fouled out, and, well I think you can tell you where this is all going."
You nod, and you can see that same sad look that he showed when he was in the locker room, except this time he wasn't smiling. He let out a heavy sigh.
"That day caused me to doubt myself. I never played basketball again, and that decision eventually came to haunt me. My love of the game was too strong, so I had to come back in some sort of form, but when I decided to come back, it was as a coach. Gone were my chances to try to prove I had something to myself while playing basketball because by the time I came back to being a coach, I was too old to play at the pros. Some said I had talent and could still make it to the big leagues, some still blamed me, and you know what I did?"
You gulp.
"You let the negative advice get the best of you."
Coach nods.
"In some ways, it was the worst decision of my life, and some, the best. It was the worst decision in my life because I never got to prove something to myself as a basketball player, but it was good for me because it got me into coaching kids, and helping out kids who would be in similar situations, and eventually, of course, you guys. Now do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yeah."
"Good, because it's almost midnight and an old man like me needs my rest at this time of night."
This time the two of you laugh at this, as your mood is cheered up a bit.
As the two of you are walking, you decide to speak.
"Coach?"
"Hmm?"
"Thanks."
"No problem. Jack, you still have a good shot on this team, and I know a lot about you because I've had a lot of talks with Sam about you."
"Really?"
"How else would I have known about that 4.0 GPA of yours?"
"That's a good point..."
"You're a smart kid. Don't let what other people have to say affect your decisions in life."
"I won't. Oh, and Coach?"
"Hm?"
You grin at him.
"My name is Jake."