“I’m not sure I’d be up for the challenge of six. I think I’d be content with two or three.” Pointing toward the court, I add, “They’re a lot of work.”
“Yeah, Ican see that.”
“How about you? How many kids do you want?”
The air feels like it’s just dropped ten degrees. “I’m not sure I want kids,” Allie answers.
“Really?” I suppose I’m inclined to think men are usually the ones on the fence about having a family, so that surprises me. Also, Allie seems like the ideal candidate for motherhood. Both sweet and nurturing with a touch of no-nonsense.
“Like you said, kids seem like a lot of work.” Allie takes a step away from me and blows her whistle. “Timeout!”
The girls run across the court toward her while the boys saunter over in my direction. “I can’t believe you’re letting them practice with us,” Kenny James moans. “It’s humiliating.”
“Why?” I ask. “Because they’re better than you?”
“Yes!” comes his unexpectedly honest reply. “Not only that but most of them are taller than me.”
I feel for him, so I say, “You’ve made some big improvements in the last week, Kenny.”
“Really?” He seems shocked. For as tough of a coach as I am, I have always prided myself on being generous with encouragement. I may tell a kid that my grandmother plays better ball than he does, but in the next breath I do my best to build him up. I’ve found that a balance of tough love and encouragement is a sure-fire recipe for success when trying to bring out the best in someone.
“Thanks, Coach,” Kenny says. “I’ve been practicing a lot at the park when I’m not here.”
Jake Fenton, my best shooting guard, jeers, “Peyton can still shoot rings around you.”
“Yeah,” Kenny groans. “She’s usually at the park at the same time I am.”
“Listen,” I tell the guys, “I don’t want you to see this as a boy against girl thing. I want you to view it as a competition among who the best players are. And honestly, in some cases that’s the girls.”
“Coach Fielden would have never made us play with girls,” Ashton Clark grumbles.
“Too bad Coach Fielden quit then,” I tell him. “Look, if you guys want to be the best you can be, the only way to do that is to play hard and learn from anyone you can. Even girls.”
“Leah Flynn thinks she’s better than us,” Jackson Harmon complains.
“If you don’t agree with her,” I tell him, “it’s up to you to prove her wrong.”
“Are you saying you think she’s better than me?” Oh yeah, his dander is good and up.
I shrug nonchalantly. “She’s good, and I don’t think you’ve shown you’re any better.”
The fire in Jackson’s eyes is enough to spark an inferno.
I blow my whistle to signal the end of the timeout and watch as the boys run back onto the court. Half look ready to rumble, and the other half are dragging like they’ve just run a mile in the sand against gale force winds. Conditioning is definitely something we’re going to need to work on.
I turn toward the players on the bench and pull five of them up to the line. “You’re in on the next foul,” I tell them.
Walking back to me, Allie announces, “The girls are getting frustrated.”
“How so?”
“They say the boys are playing dirty out there.”
“Do they want to practice separately?” I hope not, because I honestly think we need them.
Allie shakes her head. “No. They just wanted permission to fight back.” A slow grin takes over as she adds, “I gave it to them.”
“Good! They should give as good as they get.”
