Page 69 of Courtside

But the break came to an end and then they were back to the grind. Days spent in the office, traveling at least once a week, and evenings spent pacing on the court.

He still saw Sage almost every day, even outside of practices and time spent with the team.

Given his complete lack of culinary skills, he was the takeout guy. A few times a week he’d text her and see what she was craving, and then bring over food and his laptop. They normally worked while they ate — her on homework and him watching game tape.

David didn’t want to jinx it, but the team was playing unexpectedly well. Even with all of his blind optimism going into the season, he hadn’t imagined that they would actually have a fighting chance at the conference tournament.

But whatever they’d done over the break seemed to have paid off. They’d only had one loss in the past three weeks, and there was a tangible excitement in the locker room every day. David felt it, and he could tell that the guys felt it too.

They’d just wrapped up their last practice before heading out to an away game. They were playing Harding again, and David could already imagine their assistant coach’s face when they lost.

Ifthey lost.

“Coach.”

David glanced behind him, slowing down as Tim caught up to him.

“Hey Coach,” David replied.

Over the break he’d spent a quiet evening with Tim and his wife, Dana, who was quite possibly the nicest woman he’d ever met — other than his own mother, of course. She’d made homemade chicken pot pie, and they’d talked about the kinds of things that coworkers who don’t know each other very well talked about: weather, work, and family. He learned that Tim was an avid golfer and that he had two grown children who lived out of state.

Tim looked up at him, pushing his glasses up his nose with the back of his hand. “I just want to make sure that you’re doing alright,” he said, looking at him with sincere concern. “This is the time of year where it can get to be too much, and it won’t do anyone any good if you’re burned out.”

“Right,” David replied, at a loss for words. “The winning feels pretty good.”

“Sure, but when you do this job, you’ve got to make sure that there’s more than the win.”

David frowned. “What do you mean?”

“If any day that doesn’t end in a win up there on the scoreboard constitutes a loss in your book, then you won’t last very long.” Tim put a hand on David’s shoulder, pulling him to a stop in the empty hallway. “You’re a good coach, David. Maybe even a great one. But you have to figure out how to make this job sustainable over a lifetime, and putting the weight of every single mistake those kids make out there on your shoulders is going to break you down.”

“I know that,” David admitted.

“Do you? Because from where I’m sitting you walked around here looking like your puppy had been kicked until they started pulling out wins. Now you’re all bouncy and happy, and if I’ve noticed, then the team has noticed too. And do you know what that says to them?” Tim paused, staring unflinchingly at David. “That tells them that winning is the only thing that matters. The only thing that matters to you. And you know that isn’t actually what life is about, Hughes. Just make sure they know that too.”

David let Tim’s words sink in, months of memories flashing as he thought back on how he’d conducted himself throughout the season.

Now that they were winning, he felt unburdened, like he could finally breathe. Because that was his job. It was his job to turn a group of college athletes into a winning organism.

But what about when they lost? Because of course they’d lose. They’d spent the whole first half of the season losing, and they were going to lose again. Did his players trust that he’d still value them after a loss? Based on his attitude early in the season, probably not.

Goddamn it.

David released a long exhale. “Thank you,” he said, looking Tim in the eye.

There was nothing but kindness and genuine concern in Tim’s eyes as the older man nodded in response. “Have a good night, Coach,” he said, giving David’s shoulder a firm squeeze before walking away.

* * *

Hey u home?

No, I’m out playing pool with Maggie.

She says hi, by the way.

Nice. Thrs something on ur door 4 u.

What is “thrs?”

---