Chapter 105: Whitey Durham Memorial Field House
Wednesday, January 4th, Afternoon
Lucas walked out of his office and onto the gym floor of the Whitey Durham Memorial Field House. On this occasion, it brought his thoughts back to his first conversation with the man whose name is on the gym. He mentioned how he liked his gyms quiet, like a church. In a lot of respects, he was right, Lucas thought, and upon years of reflection on the matter. Gyms were like churches, they were quiet, loud, reverent, and there was always praying going on inside them. Well, today ay this meeting of the congregation as he will call the girls' varsity basketball team, there will be a fire and brimstone sermon, and most certainly penance.
Lucas took his place next to his two assistants, Kiera Sinclair, his long-term assistant, his "work wife", the mother hen, and whose been him since year one, and his number two, turned and looked at him. "They're all here," Coach Sinclair said.
"Thank you," Coach Scott said, and he looked at the twelve girls toeing the baseline, "We had a good game, didn't we? Boy did they put a scare into us, but we clawed ahead and won it. Any win is a good win, right?"
There was no answer from the girls. Many of them knew better at this point. Coach Scott looked them over and saw Coach Pierce-Scott wince. His assistant knew what was coming, she had been on the receiving end when she once toed this very baseline.
"It's said, it's a test of the metal of a team on how well they can handle themselves in a close game. Could they dig down and pull up that last bit to get them ahead.
"This is true, to some extent, but not when you put yourselves there. It's also a mark of a championship team on how well they perform against a weaker opponent. Guess what, Y'all failed that test," Coach Scott said.
He waited and no one chimed in. At least they learned that Coach Scott thought. Coach Scott then made eye contact with each girl. None of them turned away, good another less they've learned.
"Last night, we failed, as a team, as a coaching staff, and as a program. We played sloppily, we argued, and we played down to the opponent's level. We were ill-disciplined, which was topped off by one of my captains arguing with one of my coaches in front of my team," Coach Scott added, "That's my fault, all of it is my fault, as coach the buck stops here. Which meant I failed, and I don't like to fail," Coach Scott added.
"So, it's time to remind y'all of discipline. Turn around!" Coach Scott said, and all twelve girls turned around, "pyramids, push-ups, and sit-ups, up to ten and down again," he called out, put his whistle in his mouth and blew it.
He watched all twelve girls drop down and did a push-up. The next thing they did, was roll onto their backs and do a sit up. Next, they rolled over again and did two push-ups, followed by two sit-ups. This kept going until they reached sets of ten. After that, they started counting down to one again.
Coach Scott stood there and watched. Every so often he would peek at his assistants. Coach Sinclair was there stoned faced, being used to this. Coach Pierce-Scott was having issues, was it bad memories, or her being a mom of one of the players. Once the team returned to one, they all stood up.
Coach Scott blew the whistle. "On the sideline," he called out and watched as the girls lined up on the sideline. Once the last one was lined up, he looked them over, "You know what to do," Coach Scott said, and blew the whistle and watched the girls start running across the court, and back again.
For the next ten or fifteen minutes, the basketball team kept up with the "extra" work out. Once the last player finished the most recent set, he sent most of them to work with the assistant coaches and kept just one of them.
Coach Scott stood on the sideline with one of his captains. His starting power forward, Brett Pierce-Burke. She stood on the sideline, covered in sweat, as he kept working her out. To Brett's credit, she was accepting it all without a word.
Finally, he blew his whistle. Brett finished what she was doing. Brett looked at Coach Scott.
"Did you talk to Angela?" Coach Scott asked.
Bret nodded, "I talked to Auntie Tall," she said.
"She warned you about today?" Coach Scott asked.
"No, she said I deserved it though," Brett said.
"Well, what do you think?" Coach Scott asked.
"I do," Brett said.
Coach Scott nodded, "Go work on your drills, and see me after practice," Coach Scott said.
"Yes Coach," Brett said and ran out to where the forecourt players were working.
Coach Scott walked over to a place where he could watch. They were tired, that was what the first half of practice affecting them, but they were playing tighter. After a bit, they were called together to start a scrimmage.
Following the players, Coach Scott nodded and saw they understood what he was trying to teach them. He looked down at his watch, it was time. Standing up he blew the whistle.
"Okay, go get a shower," Coach Scott yelled, and watched as the girls put away the basketballs and went to the locker room.
Coach Pierce-Scott came over to Coach Scott. "Weren't you being a little harsh on them?" she asked.
"They needed a reminder," Coach Scott said.
"Still, weren't you being a bit harsh?" Coach Pierce-Scott asked.
Coach Scott shook his head, "No, I've been worse," he said, "If I remember it was to your team too."
"We deserved it," Coach Pierce-Scott said.
"So, is the punishment deserved?" Coach Scott asked.
"I guess," Coach Pierce-Scott said.
"Anyway, I have a meeting with a player," Coach Scott said.
"Which one?" Coach Pierce-Scott asked.
"Brett," Coach Scott said.
"About?" Coach Pierce-Scott asked.
"Your argument," Coach Scott said and walked into his office. On instinct, Coach Sinclair joined him.
"Lucas, what are you trying to accomplish here?" Coach Sinclair asked.
"I just want to make sure we're on the same page," Coach Scott said.
"Hopefully," Coach Sinclair said.
Coach Scott nodded, "Hopefully," he said, and sat there holding his head in his hands, "You would think this would get easier."
"You said once, it's never easy, it's never clean," Coach Sinclair said.
"I was quoting Glen Danzig's Tired of Being Alive," Coach Scott said.
"Got that from Peyton?" Coach Sinclair asked.
"Yeah," he said, just as there was a knock on the door, he sat up, "Come in," he called to the door.
Brett walked in, "Coach, you wanted to speak to me?" she asked.
"Yes, Brett, have a seat," Coach Scott said.
Brett took a seat in front of the desk, "Coach let me explain what happened at the last game," she said.
Coach Scott held up his left hand, "I don't care what the argument is about," he said.
"Then what s this meeting about?" Brett asked.
"Responsibility," Coach Scott said.
"Okay," Brett said.
"One, I can't have my players arguing with the coaches. Two, you're one of my captains, you're a leader on this team," Coach Scott said.
"I think I show leadership," Brett said.
"There's more to leadership than your play. I can't have one of my Captain's arguing with one of my coaches, especially in front of the team," Coach Scott said.
"Yes Coach," Brett said.
"This is your last season with me," Coach Scott said.
"Yes, it is," Brett said.
"Let's make it a good one the rest of the time we're together," Coach Scott said.
Brett nodded, "Yes Coach," she said.
"Well, for the rest of the season Coach Sinclair will handle you," Coach Scott said.
"Yes Coach," Brett said.
"I also don't want what happened last game to happen again," Coach Scott said.
"Yes Coach," Brett said.
"Get out of here, you have better things to do than talk with me," Coach Scott said.
"Yes Coach," Brett said and left the office.
"She is so her Mom's daughter," Coach Sinclair said.
"There's also a lot of her dad in her too," Coach Scott said.
"I can see that, too," Coach Sinclair said, sighed, stood up and left the office. Coach Scott sat there and cupped his head in his hands, again, and thought, it used to be easier.
