Page 1 of Love Game

Chapter 1

With her feet spread wide and her lucky clipboard clutched tight to her chest, Coach Kate Snyder tipped her head back and gazed at the scoreboard suspended over center court. She didn’t need to check the display to know they were up a mere three points in these final seconds, but superstition kept her chin up and her eyes locked on the garish display.

She never watched the last play of the game.

The LED display exhorted the crowd to “MAKE SOME NOISE.” The timer switched over from minutes and seconds to seconds split down to hundredths. Her heart beat as hard as the sneakers pounding hardwood.

Without looking, she knew the opposing team’s point guard was driving the ball down court with little impediment. Kate’s players wouldn’t risk a foul at this point. The Wolcott University Women Warriors played smart. They weren’t about to give up any free shots. She’d made it clear she’d prefer to play it out in overtime rather than witness her Warriors exhibiting any self-defeating behavior.

Guard the perimeter. Make them shoot for the tie. Keep it out of the hot hands of the other team’s lethal power forward. These were the key points she’d driven home in their final time-out. Now, she had to trust her team to execute. The increase in noise level told her their defensive strategy was working.

A collective gasp signaled the Huskies had finally succeeded in getting the ball to their shooter. The roar of blood in her ears muffled the mixture of cheers and groans. Two and three-tenths seconds left on the clock.

Then, a sharp slap shattered the preternatural calm. Cheers erupted into unchecked screams. Kate heard the lazy thump-thump-thump of a loose ball and tuned in just in time to see the basketball bounce to a roll, heading for the other end of the court.

The buzzer sounded and the bench emptied.

Staring up at the screen, hoping for a replay, Kate allowed herself to be carried along on a swell of people. Assistants and trainers pummeled her shoulders and back. Three of her senior starters enveloped her in sweaty, tearful hugs. Reporters tried to muscle their way into the throng, but her Warrior Women formed a wall around her.

A stepladder was set up under the home team’s basket. They moved toward it in a clump of jubilation. Someone plunked a hat atop her head. One persistent reporter snaked a microphone through the mass of bodies, but the question was lost in the shuffle. Kate kicked her pumps off at the foot of the ladder and started to climb. One step, two. She’d been able to touch the cool, smooth iron of an orange-painted rim since she was fifteen, but the sensation never grew old. Perching a hip on the highest step, she reached for the gleaming gold-plated scissors her boss, Wolcott University Athletic Director Mike Samlin, passed up to her.

Security tried in vain to herd the players toward center court, but it was no use. They weren’t moving until the net came down. Reporters continued to thrust their microphones in her direction, though how they’d isolate her answers in the cacophony of celebration, she’d never know. Still, she answered one inane question for each loop of nylon she cut through.

Snip. How big a role did strategy play in their victory?

She bit back the first sarcastic answer that sprang to mind. Her friend and university public relations guru, Millie Jensen, would be so proud. “Like flattery, strategy will get you everywhere,” she called down to the milling crowd. “You can’t win if you don’t know how you’re going to play.”

Snip. “Yes, I am incredibly proud of these young women.”

Snip, snip. “God yes, I’ll miss these seniors. We’ve been through a lot of battles together.”

Already impatient to move on to the trophy ceremony, she started hacking at the loops on the far side of the hoop. Snip, snip, snip.

“Of course we expected a fight out of the Huskies,” she answered, trying to hide her irritation with a wide smile. “This is the championship game. We wanted a fight.”

She pretended not to hear the garbled questions coming at her as she worked her way around the rim. There’d be a press conference immediately following the presentation of the trophy. They could wait until then to pepper her.

Mike Samlin beamed at her from his spot at the foot of the ladder. As he should. They’d done it. The Wolcott Warriors were the NCAA Women’s Basketball champions again. Their boosters would be ecstatic. Alumni donations would roll in fast and furious. At least, for a little while. They’d gain a smidge more respect in the conference and leverage within the NCAA as a whole.

Millie gave her a squinty-eyed glare, but Kate knew her old friend well enough to be certain she was doing mental backflips behind that mask of imperturbability. The other member of their unholy triumvirate, Professor Avery Preston, was most likely scamming leftover nachos from one of the snack bars. Athletics weren’t her thing, but Avery was a good friend. She accepted her ticket to the game with only a few grumbling words about the possibility of bleacher butt.

Kate skimmed over the crowd of reporters, looking for one familiar face, but came up empty. Tamping down a sharp pang of disappointment, she sliced through the final strands, then waved the net high over her head.

Mike took the severed net from her as he handed her down from the ladder. Kate wriggled her feet into her pumps, then started toward the hastily stretched-out red carpet at the center of the arena to accept her prize.

There’d be no denying her legacy now. Kate Snyder was the winningest coach in the history of Wolcott athletics. Period. No need to add any pesky sport or gender qualification to the accolade.

Anxious to score good positions, the reporters scurried off to the press room while the NCAA commissioner took his spot next to the table holding the trophy. Her players slipped championship T-shirts over their heads and snapped selfies. Unlike the endless hoopla surrounding the men’s tournament, this celebration was already winding down. Only a few die-hard fans would stick around for the presentation.

“You ready, Coach?” Director Samlin asked, taking his place beside her.

Kate smiled, then plucked her net from his hand. She liked Mike, but winning this tournament meant she had the balance of power firmly in her grasp. This particular battle was over, but the war wasn’t won. Yet.

“I’m more than ready, Mike,” she said as she draped the net over the corner of the trophy. “More than ready.”

* * *

“I can’t tell you how proud the entire Wolcott Warrior nation is at this moment…”

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