Page 31 of Baller's Surprise Baby

“How’s your aunt doing?” I lower my voice and notice that Rachel tactfully steps away. Everly’s face clouds over, and I can see worry there as she turns toward me.

“Honestly, I don’t know Ryder. She’s so strong, and we’ve been through a lot…but this is such a blow.”

“No news, then?”

“She has some bloodwork and a sonogram scheduled for next week, so hopefully by Friday we’ll know if it’s cancer or not.”

I heave a sigh and lower my forehead to Everly’s when I tell her, “You two are not alone, okay? Let me know what I can do.”

She smiles and gives me a kiss before murmuring, “Thank you, Ryder.” I step back and let them head out to their seats, lingering for a moment to watch them as they walk away. I see Everly turning to look back just as they reach the curve in the hall, and I give her a wink before turning back to the locker room. I’ve got my own mess to sort out here, and the tension inside is high.

An hour later, we’re in the heat of the game and my ears are inundated with sneaker squeaks on the floor, the sound of the rebound, and the crowd roaring behind us. As starting point guard, I call the plays and set them up on the court, but tonight something is off.

Coach called me into his office earlier to tell me that Daryl and Bills are down with Covid. So, I’m working with Marvin as my other guard and Nichols playing forward in place of Bills. Wikoff and Brauer fill in the other two positions.

We’re one team and we all drill together, so technically we should be able to switch in and out like this, but tonight is different. Time after time our shots are stuffed, and we’ve had so many turnovers I can’t keep count. I don’t even recognize my team, and I can’t help the bitter sense that this sudden change is going to wreck our chances, that somehow, we have to play harder and faster and better to compensate for this last-minute shift to the roster. We’re dealing with two of the world’s best players down and out while we try to make do with their subs.

By halftime we’re feeling drained, and we’re down by forty points. It’s a ridiculous gap and a massive failure. We straggle off the court, grabbing water bottles and heading to the locker room. Coach is bellowing orders before we’re even off the court, but once I grab my squeeze bottle I guzzle a couple of gulps and then pause to search the seats courtside. A few seconds later I spot Everly and Rachel waving.

We may be playing the worst game of the season, but you wouldn’t know it from the looks of those two. They’re jumping and screaming and waving like they’re our biggest fans. I love it. I throw them a salute and smile to myself as I head to the locker room. Some changes are good.

I mull that thought over as I join the others. During halftime, we study our plays and Coach calls out the fixes: Step in here, block here, be quicker, don’t stutter, sink it, pass it, one, two, go.

I watch him and take it all in, but another loop is running in the back of my mind. I’ve known Everly all my life, and then suddenly something changed. My world flipped and she went from the periphery to front and center. I honestly think she may be the love of my life.

I stare at the players around me, and then it hits me. I know what to do.

23

Everly

Rachel and I share a look and grimace. I’ve seen the Mavs lose a game before, but I’ve never seen this kind of flop. It’s literally the worst they’ve played all season, and if I didn’t know that two of their starters had come down with Covid today, I’d say it was an unbelievable fall from grace.

A lot of the crowd here are Clippers fans, so there are plenty of happy people in the stands, but it’s obvious who the Mavs fans are because we all sit sober and dejected. We’re sitting at the funeral for our dreams, and if it’s this bad for us, I can’t imagine how Ryder and his team feel.

When the halftime show comes to an end and the teams come back onto the court for a brief warmup, we cheer like crazy again. If ever our team needed a little bit of support, it would be now, so we scream for all we’re worth.

I watch as Ryder and his coach talk and gesture for several minutes, and then I see Ryder calling the team together for a quick huddle before they break, only to grab at the shorter point guard I know is Marvin. Ryder pulls him back and speaks to him for several seconds. Whatever he says must have been unexpected based on the look of surprise on Marvin’s face, but Ryder nods multiple times and then they split.

I rub my hands together nervously as the game starts up again. At first, I don’t notice much change until a few minutes in I realize no one has scored. That’s new! In the first half, the Clippers seemed to score every time they touched the ball. I watch and sure enough the defensive formations for the Mavs are different. It’s still a zone defence, but it’s not the formation they were using in the first half.

And then suddenly Marvin shoots a three-pointer and scores!

I turn to Rachael with a shriek of victory, but we soon settle as the game moves quickly on. And before I know it, I’m watching Marvin plant another three-pointer, this time from further out.

“That’s amazing!” Rachel exclaims. “I’ve never seen someone take their shots so far back. He’s basically to the half court line.” I follow her line of sight as does each of the Clipper players, because they shift formation to compensate, and suddenly the game is on.

Over the course of the next forty minutes of play, the Mavs inch their way up, scoring so much more frequently than the Clippers that they manage to tie the game in the fourth quarter, and then everything goes into overdrive as the game takes on an energy akin to a battlefield with fouls being called left and right and free throws handed out like candy.

Rachel and I sit with bated breath counting every shot, every rebound, one eye on the clock and the other desperate not to miss a thing, praying for a win!

The players are exhausted. They’ve been sopping wet since the first half, and now they’re something else altogether. They’re still quicker than any of the fans lining the arena, but it’s clear we’re at the end. In a last-ditch effort, the ball falls back to Marvin with two seconds on the clock, and suddenly it’s in the net, and the buzzer goes off giving us the lead by 3 points.

We’ve won! The Mavs have won! Rachel and I scream with the rest of the crowd and spend the next ten minutes bouncing and waving and linking arms and singing, and we completely lose track of time as the players run onto the court and everyone around us is hugging and shouting.

I scan the crowd looking for Ryder, but I’m not the tallest, so I stay there wondering if I should stand on my chair when he suddenly appears in front of me, towering over the crowd, climbing over chairs. In one smooth motion he sweeps me up into a kiss, hoisting me into his arms and sinking his heart and soul right into the moment. Around us the noise goes on and players are running around the court like fools, but Ryder and I are locked in a world apart, our own little piece of heaven, lost in each other. When the kiss softens and we gently pull back, he tilts his forehead down to mine and we grin like children. “You did it.” I say low, just loud enough for him to hear me over the noise around us.

“Yeah...We did it,” and suddenly his eyes crinkle and all the adrenaline from the game comes shooting to the forefront as he hoists me up into the air. I throw up my fists in a gesture of victory, and we both whoop before he brings me back down and places me on my feet again. With one last kiss, he bends low to look me in the eyes.

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