On the Court
Manhattan YMCA
12.30 pm Thursday 9th November 2006
"Hey, Jack!"
Louis Bernikow gestured for a pass. McCoy made as if to respond and then as a tall cop from Narcotics moved to intercept, McCoy sent the ball left instead to Qiao Chen. Chen tried to dribble the ball forward but found himself boxed in. Regan Markham took a long stride forward and cleared herself to receive a pass but Chen tried instead to go around the police team's defence himself and a lanky woman cop from Traffic snared the ball.
Bernikow swore and raced to cover the officer from Narcotics, the police team's best player. The prosecutor's team scrambled to defend, but the police scored against them three times, evening the score and moving ahead, before McCoy got possession of the ball again and the game flowed back up the court.
Again, Chen took a pass. Regan dodged into clear space and called for the ball. Chen tried to take an ambitious shot and the ball circled the rim then bounced clear.
"Bad luck," Bernikow called, but as he turned away he shot a glance at McCoy, eyebrows raised. McCoy shrugged.
"I didn't invite him," he told the Rackets ADA. "He followed Regan."
Bernikow looked at Regan jogging back down the court, looking disgruntled. "And she must be thrilled about that."
"Ask her yourself," McCoy said, "She's not talking to me." In fact, he hadn't expected her to come to the game at all. Since Monday night she'd been stiffly professional with him, almost as if they'd never met before this week, let alone tried cases, certainly as if she'd never dragged him out of a bar in the small hours of the morning.
But she'd been on the court when he arrived, baggy T-shirt hanging loose from her broad, bony shoulders, bouncing the ball against the backboard with Qiao Chen watching her. Chen had hurried over to McCoy to tell him how much he loved basketball and how pleased he was to have the opportunity to play. Regan had gone on practicing her overheads, right-hand, left-hand then right-hand again, the ball coming back to her every time like it was on elastic.
Now, her T-shirt soaked with sweat, Regan took Chen's arm and leaned close to him. "You can let me have the ball occasionally," McCoy heard her say. "I won't drop it."
Chen shook his arm free and turned away.
On the next play Regan took the opportunity herself, stealing possession from the cop from Traffic and dribbling up the court to the three point line. She made a lay-up from there and the lawyers were back in the game.
"You brought in a ringer, McCoy?" the Narcotics cop asked as Regan cut and took possession again.
"She's an ADA," McCoy said. "Check her badge."
"College ball?" the cop asked Regan, and she shook her head, moving slowly backwards from him, dribbling the ball and looking for a pass.
"High school," she said, and grinned as he feinted for the ball, moving easily away from him. "What can I tell you? I'm just better than you are."
"There's a challenge," he said. " Ben Strickland. Narcotics."
" Regan Markham," Regan said, "Major felonies."
"Jack McCoy's new girl," Strickland said. "I've heard about you."
"If I can interrupt you two," McCoy said, "I believe there's a game in progress?"
Regan looked sharply towards Bernikow. Two of the police players moved to cover him and as they did Regan floated backwards into clear court and snapped the ball to Chen. He dribbled towards the basket as the Traffic cop and her team-mate – Jimmy Something from the 1-4, McCoy thought, trying to bring the surname to mind – hurried to cover him and Strickland screened Regan.
"We gotta start playing half-court when we don't have ten players," Bernikow wheezed, "I'm too old for all this running around."
"The running around is the point, isn't it?" McCoy said, jockeying for clear court with the fourth and last police player, a rookie patrolman from the 1-6 who fit the description of ring-in if anyone did – what is he, six foot eight? McCoy wondered.
A groan from Bernikow brought his attention back to the game. Chen had tried to score again, and the ball had gone wide. As Strickland retrieved it from the sidelines and passed it in to Jimmy-Something from the 1-4 McCoy saw Regan shaking her head. "I could have sunk that," he heard her say to Chen. "You gotta start passing to me, Qiao, or we're gonna have our asses handed to us."
"So you can get all the glory?" Chen hissed to her. "I don't think so."
The woman cop from Traffic sank the next basket, then two from Strickland before Bernikow got possession again. He passed to Regan, who got enough clear air to pass to McCoy, who had no choice but to send the ball to Chen.
Who tried to shoot from a ridiculously long distance, and sent the ball out of bounds again.
"Goddamn," McCoy said.
"Now, Jack, it's just a game," Bernikow said.
"Game or not, I hate to lose," McCoy said. "I hate to lose."
Jimmy-Something took the ball back down the court until McCoy stole it from him and passed to Bernikow. The ball went back and forth between Bernikow and Regan for a few plays as both players tried to cut to clearer court. Regan found an opening and passed to Chen, who sent the ball to McCoy. McCoy saw Regan screen the Traffic cop and make room for Chen to cut, and when the young ADA did so McCoy passed to him and Chen put the ball neatly into the basket.
"Nice assist," Bernikow called to Regan.
McCoy raised his eyebrows. "Pouring gasoline on the bonfire, Louis?" he said quietly.
"I've always appreciated social experiments," Bernikow said equally softly. 'Which one of them will throw the first punch, do you think? Fifty bucks on the boy."
"I'll happily take your money," McCoy said.
"Oh-ho, if you're willing to wager you must have inside information," Bernikow said.
"Come on, Louis, you're the one who always says you should only bet when you know you're going to win," McCoy said. "Aren't we supposed to be playing basketball here?"
"Social experiments are more fun," Bernikow said, but he jogged away to open up the court.
Regan had the ball and Strickland was covering her. She turned her back to him, trying to edge him away and make a pass, but he was taller than she was and kept blocking her. They shoved at each other, barely the legal side of a foul.
"Here, Regan," Chen said. McCoy could see that the cop from Traffic was in too good a position to intercept any pass to Chen, and Regan must have been able to tell as well because she ignored Chen and kept trying to work around Strickland. "Regan!"
From the other end of the court, it was hard to tell what happened next, and McCoy would never be entirely clear on it. It looked to him as if Chen tried to steal the ball from his team-mate instead of waiting for the pass and Regan, her attention on fending off Strickland, fumbled the ball. It fell to the court at her feet, all three players bunched together and reaching for it, and then suddenly somehow it was under Chen's feet and Chen was off balance and falling, the ball rolling away – he hit the court hard and clutched at his ankle.
"Geez, Chen, be careful," Regan said, stepping back. "Somebody could get hurt with that kind of a stunt."
"She fouled me," Chen said. He rolled over and tried to get up, but sank back to the court when he tried to put his weight on his right foot. "I think my ankle's sprained!"
"Let me see," Jimmy-Something said. He knelt down beside Chen. "You're done for today, Counsellor. Come on." He and Strickland helped Chen up and to the bench.
"We don't have a substitute," Bernikow pointed out. "You going to take one of your players off?"
"I don't mind sitting down," Jimmy –Something said. "I'll get some ice for the wounded warrior here." He clapped Chen on the shoulder and strode towards the change rooms as Strickland came back onto the court.
"Three on three?" Strickland said. "We're still going to win, Ms Markham."
"Famous last words," Regan said, bouncing the ball across to McCoy. "Famous last words."
In the end, Strickland was nearly right. With only ten minutes left and quite a few points behind the prosecutors struggled to make up ground. Wheezing for breath, Bernikow dropped back to play a defensive game under the police basket while Regan and McCoy tried to score. They laboured against the three cops all playing defence until McCoy sent a couple of long passes back to Bernikow to get clear court and the Traffic cop broke away to cover him, leaving McCoy and Regan against Strickland and the rookie ring-in from the 1-6.
After spending the first half of the game calling for passes that never came, Regan played hard as the clock wound down, even recklessly, with long-odds passes and jostling just the right side of the rules. McCoy recognised the expression of determination on her face – it was similar to the one he'd seen in the mirror from time to time. Win, or die trying.
And they did win – McCoy sinking the final basket with seconds to spare.
"Dammit, you are better than me!" Strickland said to Regan.
She grinned at him, panting too hard to speak, and bent over with her hands on her knees. Seeing her flushed with exertion, her hair tied carelessly back and face glistening with sweat, McCoy thought she looked years younger than she did in the office, years younger and far happier.
"Nice win," he said to her as they both walked off the court.
"Thanks," Regan said, shoulders stiffening with tension and the easy grace she showed while playing vanishing as if McCoy's voice had magically transported her back to Hogan Place. She turned away from him to grab her bag and waterbottle from the benches.
"You know what they say, Regan," Chen said as she passed him. "It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game."
"I play the game to win, Qiao," Regan said. "How do you play it?" She turned on her heel and strode off. McCoy watched her stalk into the change room, chin up, back straight.
I should maybe make that call to Seattle.
.oOo.
A/N: I don't know if this chapter works, so any feedback greatfully recieved, especially from basketball experts - or anyone with suggestions on how to convey the character development differently here? Trying to do the whole sport-as-a-metaphor thing and am not sure it works - what do you think?