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“Be there tomorrow afternoon. Coach’s assistant, Kayla, will send you the details.”
He nods and then closes the door in my face.
Coach
For close to two months, I have had more free time without Alex around to fill the void. Waiting on Alex to satisfy Mickey’s requirements has been painful, especially when I have to see him in the hallway or ride next to him on the elevator. Being around him is too much for me to bear without having all the perks. So, when we do see each other, very little talking is involved, and there is certainly no touching. Neither of us would have made it this long if that had happened. But he’s worth the wait.
In Alex’s absence, I’ve gone back to my old routines of working myself to death and coaching my team. And, for the last two years, I have organized and hosted a youth basketball skills clinic to raise money for a charity that deals with the research and treatment of drug and alcohol addiction. This charity is near and dear to my heart, and so are my kids.
Even before I had the idea to partner with Philly Clean, I would always donate money, of course, but I also liked to check out t
heir website and read their newsletters in hopes that their research would help me find an answer for why my parents had ended up the way they did. I never found one.
I asked a few of the players on the Philadelphia 76ers to autograph balls and jerseys for the kids, and a few of them even volunteered to help with the event. Since I have a friend who works at Strickland University, she hooked us up for the day, and I rented the multipurpose event center on their campus.
Standing inside this building and looking up at the high ceilings and stadium seating reminds me of the days I played college ball. A surge of electricity prickles my skin as the excitement of playing ball on a court this size again gives me the chills. The first time I held a basketball in my hand was the day I found real love. I never felt more alive.
“Are you ready, Charlie?” Jamie snaps me out of my daze by hooking his arm around my back and pulling me against him. He gives me a squeeze and releases me. “I have everything all set up, and the kids are split up into groups.”
“Thank you, Assistant Coach. Yeah, I think we are all set. Did you take a total head count?”
I turn to face the lower-level seats. With over one hundred kids separated by age along the sidelines and seated in the first two rows at half-court, I walk over with Jamie to begin. Their parents are hanging out, chatting with each other midway up the row.
“Yep, all done.” Jamie hands the microphone in his hand to me and pats me on the back with a smile. “Go get ’em, Coach.”
I return his smile and clutch the microphone in my palm. “Good morning, parents and campers, and welcome to the Philly Clean Skills Clinic. I’m Charlotte Coachman, former shooting guard of the Villanova Wildcats and professional sports agent at Donoghue Media Group here in Philadelphia. Several years ago, I sustained a career-ending injury that changed my life. Athletes have to do more than train to stay in game-ready shape, and it’s important that you have a routine you stick with. Today, I’m going to kick off the guest lectures by talking to you about taking care of yourselves, both mentally and physically.”
After I finish my speech about mental and physical conditioning, I introduce Kyle Barker, center of the Philadelphia 76ers, and pass him the microphone. He gives a speech about good sportsmanship and being a team player.
Given the size of the clinic, it’s much harder to spend the whole day going over hands-on skills. We spend most of the morning listening to different players from the team give the children advice. Some of the parents chime in to ask questions at the end of each lecture, and overall, the camp is a success.
But I can tell the kids are eager to get on the court. Jamie kept the Gladiators in their own group with Rico and Tommy sitting in the front row, leading our team. Those two together crack me up as they go back and forth about who can score the most points by the end of the day. Ten rows back, I spot Rosario talking to some of the boys’ parents, wearing her light-blue nurse uniform with her dark hair pulled up into a ponytail. She must’ve come straight from her night shift at the hospital.
Jamie and the rest of the coaches and players who are helping with the event each take a group of boys and girls. A few of the local girls youth basketball teams have decided to join this year along with their coaches and parents.
After we spend the next two hours teaching the kids the fundamentals of shooting, passing, and dribbling, my boys still haven’t had their fill.
“Can we do some layups?” Rico asks, looking up at me with those big hazel eyes that I can never say no to.
“Yeah, can we, Coach?” Tommy chimes in.
Glancing around the court, I see the parents and their kids are making their way toward the sidelines while my team is still full of energy, amped up and ready to play more. I take a basketball from a rack at center court and dribble with my right hand as I walk toward my team.
“How about you play me in a game of Horse?” a deep voice that I know says from behind me.
I turn around and see Dante Fisher, all six foot eight of him, only a few yards away from me.
A few screams from parents and kids echo throughout the event center when they realize that Dante, the leading scorer in the NBA, is in the building. He’s wearing his red and black Chicago Bulls uniform, matching black socks that go midway up his muscular calves, and the latest pair of shoes Nike named for him. I helped get him that deal.
Speechless, my mouth falls open in shock. “What are you doing here?”
He leans into me, pulling me against his chest and into a hug. “I heard from a reliable source that you could use an assist. You drop everything for me. I thought I could come and give you a hand.”
I am so overcome with emotion, I have no idea how to process this show of support for my local charity event.
Dante releases me from his strong grip and takes the basketball from my hands. “So, you gonna play me or what, Coach?”
“Show us the Coach Crossover,” another voice says from behind Dante.
