The Odd Ballerz (13 page)

“Okay then. I’m going to divide you into groups of four, and then we’ll rotate around the stations. Let’s go, count off, one to four. Ones, you’re with Alex. Twos with Emma, threes, you’re with Coach D, fours, you’re with Addison. When you hear my whistle, move on to the next station. Any questions?” he asked, scanning the group. “Okay then, let’s go.”

# # #

Memphis was the lone woman in her group of kids at the first station. She and Aubrey had been separated, which she didn’t mind at all. Her worst looked so much worse next to her friend.

How to catch a pass was the topic of her group and in the back of the line was she. Actually, she preferred being in the back. As a kid, it’s where she’d spent most of her time. She’d learned to use that time wisely, to process and to try and figure things out.

She stood listening to Addison explain what was expected of the receivers in general, and specifically for this drill. Basically, it was run right five yards, then run left five yards, catch the ball. Nope, it was run right five yards, then run left five yards, catch the
pass
, she thought, correcting herself. All this running this way and that was called a route. Addison’s explanation was, of course, followed by a demonstration, also performed by Addison, who was very quick and light on her feet. Memphis had started watching everyone’s feet, hoping to learn something to help her remain on hers. As Addison demonstrated the drill now, it was a quick take off to the right, then a quick pivot to the left, hands lifted in front of her chest to catch a perfect pass thrown by none other than Coach Z.

Memphis had missed his arrival. She’d been too busy listening to Addison and taking all things camp seriously. She was going to give her best effort from now on, she decided, regardless of what that looked like to others. She was all-in and why the hell not. She could overcome as good as the next person.

The first boy from their group took his place at the start, ran his mini-route, headed right first, then left, mirroring Addison’s footsteps to a T, including catching the ball at the end. She was happy for the kid, but did he have to be so perfect? Where was Luke when she needed him, a fellow struggler like herself? She looked around the field and found him over with Aubrey’s group, currently working with Alex.

Memphis turned back to watch the second kid’s attempt. Not as perfect as the first, as the ball bounced off his hands and hit the ground, but otherwise good. Only one kid remained between her turn and it was now time for her to get ready. It’s easy, Jones, she thought, falling into her self-coaching mode. You are improving. Her self-talk continued throughout the third kid’s run. She looked up in time to see him drop the ball at the end.

She waited for Addison to give her the okay to start, before she took off, nervous, stumbled a little, almost fell, tilted forward for a second or two before she managed to reel herself in. She did, though, managed to keep her feet, but by then it was too late to pivot. She looked up in time to see her ball hit the ground in front and to the left of her, and it was back to the end of the line. Going all-in was not going to be easy. Her second attempt was better. She took off, nervous again but determined, and thankfully there was no falling. She made the left zag when she was supposed to and raised her hands in anticipation of receiving the ball. It arrived hard, hitting her in her hands before bouncing to the ground.

“Ouch,” she said before coming to a stop. She met Z’s eyes and it was nothing-but-shades-to-see-here.

“Relax, Jones,” he said.

“Watch the ball into your hands,” Addison added.

“Yep,” Memphis said. ’Cause that was her problem, she thought, taking her place at the back of the line again and feeling more than a little proud of that run. “You go, girl,” she said aloud, and one of the boys in front of her smiled. She looked back at Z, whose attention was on the boy currently running his route. Where did she think it would be?

She looked over the fields, watching the other boys, not only in her group but the other groups as well, performing their drills, moving about, running, catching or following some other coach’s instructions. This football playing was tough work, she thought. She caught sight of Aubrey, looking nice and athletic, playing the part of the quarterback, standing behind her sister, in the process of learning to take a snap. Memphis believed that’s what it was called. Aubrey was all grace; moving back, three-step drop—she believed she’d heard Alex call that moving back—and looking around for a receiver.

“Wake up, Jones. You’re up next,” Coach Z said, getting her attention. He’d been watching her stare into space or at the others on the field, including her friend Aubrey, when her gaze hadn’t been turned to him, filled to the brim with interest in him. He was not going near it and he appreciated that neither was she. Loved that she hadn’t acted on her interest. It was nothing improper with Jones.

Nope, Jones was just her usual non-athletic person, going about the business of falling over her feet, but trying, and today he’d noticed that she was focused in a way he’d not seen before. He was considering allowing her to make his team. Her determination today had made an impression on him and the other coaches. It was an effort that required a reward, he thought, and if she stuck it out this week, continued to try, and showed up for tryouts, he’d find a place for her on the team. Third or fourth string, with no chance of ever entering a game, but she would make the team.

It was her turn again. She had taken off, and so far so good. She stayed on her feet, which was great for Jones, he thought in his internal commentary as he watched her. He threw the ball to her, and what followed was more of what he’d come to expect. It hit her in the shoulder
and
she almost fell.

“You okay there, Jones?” he asked, lowering his shades, catching her on her way to the end of the line, fighting against his desire to smile.

“Yep,” she said, walking past him, not meeting his eyes, and more than a little bit disgruntled, he thought of her posture. He allowed himself a smile this time, at Jones who was always entertaining.

# # #

Aubrey was a little bit bummed at not having Coach Z as the quarterback in charge of their group. Instead it was M’s little sister who was telling them what to do. She had nothing against M’s sisters; they’d just never meshed well.

Z should be here, instead of helping out the receivers group, throwing passes to the kids and Jones, who had dropped all but one of the balls thrown to her
and
who had also almost fallen twice. Did that mean he was seriously interested in her friend? Yes, she thought, and more so than he let on. She’d watched him as he’d watched Memphis today, since that arrival thing with his fellow coaches that had taken her by surprise. It wasn’t the only reason she kept track of him. He was easy to look at, moving about the field—really as he did just about anything. A tall drink of water was this one, smooth and in excellent shape, she thought, returning her gaze to Alex, who was explaining again how receive the snap of the ball,
again
.

Yeah, yeah, she understood it the first time she’d heard it. Stand close to the back of the center’s lower body, as they squatted in front of you. Next, bend forward, until the center’s legs were shoulder width to you, the quarterback. Tall centers meant you had to stand more upright. Place your hands under the center’s butt; the QB’s passing hand is tight into the crotch of the center, palm down; the back of the hand provides the pressure on the center’s crouch, which could be interesting. She imagined guys that played regularly probably didn’t give it much thought. It was just some of the younger boys that thought it a little bit funny. They had broken out into pairs and had spent the last ten minutes practicing. She and Alex were partners and had practiced in between Alex helping the other boys.

“You want to take a few more snaps?” Alex asked, back from working with a pair of boys.

“Sure,” Aubrey said. Alex turned to face the front, before falling into the center’s squat. Aubrey took her place behind Alex, and positioned her hands underneath Alex’s butt.

“That’s good,” Alex said, looking back at Aubrey through her legs. “You’re a natural,” she added, before passing the ball between her legs to Aubrey.

“Is he single?” Aubrey asked, taking the ball from Alex’s hands, while nodding her head toward Z. Memphis had passed on all the Z related info she’d learned from her sister, but it wasn’t enough and Aubrey was still curious enough to ask for herself, especially giving what she’d seen today.

Alex looked up, following Aubrey’s gaze to where Z stood on the field across from them.

“Yes,” Alex said.

“Memphis told me that you and Z are good friends.”

“Coach Z, you mean?” Alex asked.

“Coach Z,” Aubrey said, smiling, wanting to avoid antagonizing her only source of Z information.

“We are,” Alex said, glancing in Z’s direction again. “Did Memphis tell you about the rule we have that discourages relationships between coaches and players?” Alex asked.

“Discourages or forbids?” Aubrey asked, gazing across the field at Z still. He was throwing the ball to Memphis, and in and out of her hands it went. Terrible in everything, except insurance, it seemed, and sad for that to be one’s life, Aubrey thought. She watched for Z’s reaction, surprised to find a smile on his face. It wasn’t huge, small by smile size standards, or maybe not. It was gone so quickly.

“They will drop him as coach, so he won’t risk it. He loves coaching the team too much, and more than that, he’s good at it,” Alex said.

“We’ll see,” Aubrey said.

“Sure,” Alex said, not even going to respond, ’cause really what could she say to someone who was clearly determined to have their way as was always the case with Aubrey. “Handing the ball off, and pitching the ball is next,” Alex said, moving away, leaving Aubrey alone.

A
lex entered the storage room with the ladders from today’s drill piled high in her arms. It was her turn to help Z with the after camp clean-up. She dropped them in the designated spot on the floor and started in with rinsing out the coolers while she waited for Z to return. He’d gone back out for the last of the equipment and she wanted to talk to him about Aubrey, but more importantly she wanted to talk about her sister.

She’d seen Memphis out on the fields for the first time today and, wow, how had she not known? She’d heard tales and she’d heard stories from the other coaches and before today had thought it was more than a little embellishing. But nope, it was all true. Her sister had serious issues with her feet. She’d known people that had struggled with athletics but nothing near Memphis’s level of non-athletic ability and that was sad, because she’d really looked forward to playing with her sister in the fall.

Aubrey was good enough, which was a bummer and totally unfair. She still couldn’t believe she’d tried to warn her about Z, when she should have just stepped aside like one of those bull fighters and let her get burned like the others that had come before.

“I had no idea,” Alex said, when Z finally reappeared, his hands filled with bags.

“About what?” he asked, setting the smaller of his two bags on the table near her.

“My sister.”

“What? That she has trouble with anything football related, or anything sports related for that matter? Running, throwing or catching,” he said, chuckling. “You didn’t know?”

“No.”

“So you wouldn’t know what causes it?”

“What do you mean what causes it? Like a condition or something?”

“Yes, like a condition or something. Maybe. I don’t know. The first day, Monday, I thought either she was awful or that all her falling was done intentionally, to get out of your bet. But nope, I’ve since ruled that out. That’s all her that you see. So maybe it’s something else and I thought you might know what,” he said.

“No, sorry, I don’t have any answers,” she said, pausing in her washing. “How do you explain her time in the forty then, when she’s not falling, that is? She’s fast. Would that be possible if she had an issue?”

“My point exactly. Usually one is not outstanding in only one thing and then sucks in the rest. She’s improving, though. Small improvements, hard to see, but even if you can’t, you can see that she’s trying. Something is getting in her way, I think. She gets nervous too, anxious is more of what I think she does. How about anxiety? Does she have trouble with that?” he asked, placing the balls in the corner of the room. He’d blow them up tomorrow or Wednesday afternoon.

“Memphis? Are you kidding?” Alex said, and made a noise. His expression told her he was not. “She’s a rock. Had to be, so no, I don’t think so.”

“Well, again, she is trying and more focused than I’ve seen before, so that’s something,” he added, looking around the room, hands on hips.

“She won’t quit. I don’t know anyone beside me that’s more stubborn or hardheaded. So you’ll need to let her go gently if you decide to let her go. Are you thinking of letting her go?” Alex said.

He smiled. “If you’d asked me that last week, the answer would have been ‘hell yes,’ and you know what that means, given how badly we need women,” he said, chuckling. “She is trying. I can see that. So, no, I’m not going to let her go. If she continues to try, I’ll find a place for her on the team,” he said.

“She’ll be happy to learn that,” Alex said, smiling, pleased.

“Let’s not tell her yet. Let her keep trying,” he said.

“Aubrey asked about you,” she said, satisfied with Memphis and his impression of her.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Wants to know the usual; are you single and available.”

“We have that rule and she’s a nice pick-up for the team. I wouldn’t want to lose that.”

“I don’t know if that will suffice with that one,” Alex said, chuckling now.

“It will have to,” he said, and that was the end of that, Alex knew, had seen him shut down many a woman looking for it to be more. Last year they’d all learned the hard way to keep things strictly business.

# # #

Tuesday

From her perch at the bar, Memphis looked around the restaurant. It was a nice one: French’s, new and expensive, all-white-table elegant. It was a large square-shaped building with two smaller square shaped side rooms to the left and right of it. She was seated in the room to the right, waiting for her date to appear: blind date number four, courtesy of Aubrey’s matchmaking service. Drew Stanford was his name and he was late, and, oh god, who did she remind herself of with that late bit?