Chapter II: Living (and Dying) for the Moment
Having been granted leave to visit coach Shaver personally in his office, Sofia followed the steward, who was carrying a special lamp down a secret, dimly lit passage for what seemed length of days. On the walls sat memorabilia of league titles, of promotions secured, of local, regional and national cups won (and the occasional runner-up finish as well). There were engravings with all-league, all-province and, ultimately, all-Enchancia honours achieved by the team, especially under their current coach, plus a special individual trophy or two here and there awarded to various Ploughmen in display cases throughout the underground hallways. The last two decades or so had been most impressive, but this was a part of the club's campus that few fans might see.
Yet that is how coach Shaver liked it, for he didn't believe in vain repetitions of history. In the interests of staying young, he always was one to emphasise the need to live in the present, not the past. He might allow a fifteen-year display window to show off more recent accomplishments, both individual and team, to motivate his players to reach his standards every year. Then, those plaques, trophies and cups would be relegated to the catacombs beneath the Cyber Warlock Forum and its environs. At that rate, Dunwiddie's trophy commemorating their promotion to the Ever Realm Second Division back in 1999 would be relegated (no pun intended) to storage after the 2013-14 season, if not earlier.
Finally, Sofia and the steward leading her arrived at coach Shaver's office. The steward knocked and yelled: "Coach, Sofia Balthazar is here to talk with you." Coach Shaver beckoned them in, and the steward grabbed a chair for Sofia. The steward bade coach Shaver's special guest to sit down, saying: "Coach Shaver will be right with you, young lady." And then he left.
This was the outer sanctum of coach Shaver's office-suite. There were three doors before Sofia from where she sat. Two of them, which featured less décor than the one in the middle, must be where coach Shaver's assistants worked when not leading practice or coaching during games. The suite was more brightly lit than other parts of the catacombs of the Dunwiddie basketball complex. There were file cabinets along the walls as well, which Sofia assumed must contain past records such as game logs, box scores and other such data. She was tempted to peruse the records but held back, for her mother had advised her to be on her best behaviour through it all. But just as her resistance was about to drop, she heard an ageing voice say: "Hello, Sofia!"
"You said you were willing to discuss something with me, Coach," Sofia replied.
Coach Shaver popped an aspirin and said: "Of course. Since you are one of this town's most passionate young female fans—or young fans, period—I would like to apprise you of a curious meeting that took place last night. You see, Sofia, at my age coaches like me are expected to take interest in building community among our peers across the Ever Realm and perhaps beyond. To that end, I was holding a coaches' clinic the other night, a few days after you and your mother got the tickets from me. The bulk of the coaches were from various clubs, both professional and amateur, based here in Enchancia. However, some came from other parts of the Ever Realm, and a few even were from elsewhere in the multiverse. One of the last kind of those in attendance was a guy named Bradley Buzzcut, who coaches various sports and teaches physical education at a high school on a dimension called Earth.
"See, I've been doing such a clinic for several years now. Ever since we got promoted to the Enchancian Second Division in 1999—our fourth promotion in twelve years—my peers have wondered how I manage to keep the promotions and other honours coming despite not only my age, but also competing job offers from other, bigger clubs. I always remind them to respect history and tradition but embrace evolution. You may have noticed various prizes and honours displayed or engraved on the halls and walls in our subterranean compound, which I fondly call 'the Burrow.' All those glories are nice, but lest our players, our fans and, above all, my successors rest on the laurels of past glory, I proposed an amendment at the Ploughmen's 1994 AGM that stipulated storage for any honours achieved more than fifteen years before. That's why that year's trophy for promotion to the fifth tier of the Ever Realm hoops pyramid isn't visible to the public." Coach Shaver showed Sofia a copy of the amendment before continuing: "The proposal was unanimously adopted, but—in keeping with my rule—you are one of the few fans to have seen it the last couple years.
"That was an example I've used to drive home my point about learning new things and embracing the here and now. Of course, I change the examples from clinic to clinic, and this particular clinic saw a 68-year-old man breakdancing as an icebreaker. Apparently, this aroused coach Buzzcut's ire. It turns out that he had served in his country's Marines in a far-off land called Vietnam. Upon returning home, the young Marine expected a hero's welcome for his valour. Instead, he was, by his account, treated like a criminal for embracing old-fashioned values. Whether that was the case or not, he betrayed no hints. But I could tell he didn't like my game tactics. As I was discussing some plays in what I call the 'Hexblade' attack, Buzzcut stood up, clenched his teeth and raised his hand so high that it might've breached the plaza outside the arena where you just saw us win. Fortunately, per my principles, I am always willing to take input, so I took it. What I didn't expect was for him to say: 'How can you call it basketball when you don't have defence?'
"I felt obligated to answer: 'With all due respect, coach Buzzcut, our games consist of ten-minute quarters. In your introductory questionnaire, you stated that local university teams play twenty-minute halves, which tends to be quite taxing on teams.'
"This seemed not to satisfy the Earthling, who retorted: 'Softies, the lot of you! No wonder you peasants score so many points against each other.'
"I pointed out that his planet's NBA, with its twelve-minute quarters and eight more minutes per game, actually has less scoring than the typical Ever Realm basketball game. Then I asked him: 'If it's the case that quarters, as opposed to halves, make teams soft, how come teams score more points here than on your planet?'
"His face turned red, and he left the room without speaking any longer. But that night, I had a bad dream that I was in the local churchyard."
Sofia was disturbed and spoke: "That's troubling. What would you be doing there?"
"Well, I saw a burial procession. The pallbearers had a promotion banner atop the casket, and my wife Pamela and a few select fans were following behind. Just as I was about to ask Pam about the nature of the funeral, I recognized the burial-plot we bought a few years ago. As they laid down the casket at our plot, I hoped against all hope that they were just setting down their corpse to readjust the burden. Alas, Pam ordered that it be opened one last time, and the worst was realized when I saw myself lying there dead, pale and with what looked like poison traces on my lips!"
Sofia screamed, her hands on her head and about to slide over her eyes. But coach Shaver, being a spiritual father figure such as Sofia had never known in her own family, comforted her, saying: "If it had been anyone else, I might have screamed like you did. But that wasn't the coup de grâce. That was the appearance of a guy in cutoff denim wearing sunglasses. He had long blonde hair and a mustache that matched, as well as tight jeans. And he whispered in my ear: 'My name is Todd, and I am the reason this funeral is taking place. Bye-bye, coach Shaver!' He then slapped the back of the headstone, and before he could be arrested, the flesh melted off both my corpse and that of my mourners. I woke up at 2:30am that morning in a cold sweat."
By the time coach Shaver had finished his foreboding account, Sofia was sprawled on the floor. She had fainted from horror and the graphic details of what coach Shaver had confided to her. Coach Shaver was greatly saddened and started to weep. He stooped down as best as his 68-year-old body would permit and whispered to Sofia: "I'm sorry that I scared you. Perhaps an eight-year-old girl ought not hear such horrors, but I had to get it off my chest. Please wake up."
Sofia revived, and coach Shaver summoned the steward who had led her from the Cyber Warlock Forum club room to his office. In the meantime, coach Shaver remarked to Sofia: "I have one more thing for you, miss. I will allow you to observe my coaching clinics as long as you keep your grades and attendance up in school."
"That shouldn't be too hard for me to do," Sofia responded. "I love to read, you know."
The steward finally arrived, and coach Shaver bade him to give Sofia a copy of the Ploughmen's historical stats. "Know this, young Sofia," the coach said, "that mathematics will also get you far. The mages of Enchancia deal with both mundane and arcane figuring all the time."
"I've heard of them, Coach. I'm sure my mother is wondering where I've been. Until next time, farewell."
"I'm sure we'll see each other again," said coach Shaver with a smile. He turned back into his office as the steward led Sofia back to her mother.