“Right,” I say, snapping my attention back to the conversation. “Thanks. And I’ll make sure to keep up with training so I’m ready for when scouts are prowling practices next year.”
“Awesome. Sounds like a plan.”
We sign off, and I flop back onto my pillow, staring at the ceiling and contemplating my life.
This is the single best chance I have at doing what I want, and it’s one I have to take.
With a groan, I heave my reluctant body out of bed and plod to the kitchen, greeting a sweaty Jeremy right as he walks back in from a run.
God, he’s out here running while I’m lazing around in bed, meanwhile, I’m the one who wants to go prothis year.
I envy the juniors who still have all the time in the world to figure their shit out.
It isn’t like Ihaven’tbeen training or anything. It’s just that I know I could be doing a lot more—the baseball team at WMU is trialing independent conditioning in the off-season, maybe to weed out some of the less-motivated players, and I don’t want to get lumped in with that group.
Besides, my next realistic step is joining a minor league team, hopefully triple-A, and they’re a huge step up from college ball. What I want to avoid is getting my shot and then screwing it up by being a lazy piece of shit.
Grumbling to myself, I grab a protein bar and head back into my room to text Ian.
sup
wanna hit legs later?
Ian
For sure
Let’s check out the new gym
it’s open??
Yup they finally installed the equipment
Fucking finally. WMU dragged their feet on opening a new athletics facility for far too long, and the old one was falling apart.With newfound excitement, I change out of my PJs and pack my workout bag, heading out and speed-walking to the gym.
Man, this new place isswanky. It smells like construction materials and industrial air freshener, not stale BO, and the lights actually work. Too bad WMU only finished building it in time for my last year here, and not even for when the yearstarted.
On my way to the varsity athlete locker room, I pass by a glass wall overlooking the basketball courts on a lower floor, and I peer down to see what it’s like.
Right as none other than Dean Shen himself scores a sick three-pointer.
Wait, does he play varsity basketball? How did I not know that? And why didn’t he mention it?
I glance at the scoreboard, which saysEconomics vs. Health Sciences.
Right. I forgot intramurals were a thing. Without thinking, I whip my phone out to text Dean.
nice basket
surprised you aren’t on the varsity team
My brain stutters as soon as I hit send. Dean’s gonna be creeped out for sure—why did I have to go and do that?
Shaking my head, I go to get changed. The new facilities are lush as hell with dim lighting and empty, unused lockers, but I don’t stand around admiring anything too much. I’m already late, and I’m not trying to leave before I blast my fucking legs into a pulp.
Dean texts me back right as I’m putting shorts on, and I reach for my phone with the fabric bunching around my left ankle.
Dean Shen
