Page 171 of Scoring the Player
“To say I felt like an utter fuckup would be putting it mildly. I got piss-poor drunk every night. Things came to a head one night when I grabbed my father’s pistol and drove out to the woods with a pint of Henny. It was the single worst moment of my life.”
I suck in a breath, but it’s drowned out by the sounds of shock and disbelief.
He pauses. “By some guiding hand, I made it to morning. I’d been dodging calls to interview for an assistant coach position with an NCAA Division I team because I felt like even considering it would mean accepting the end of my basketball career. But then something snapped in place, and I realized that if I didn’t find a new purpose for my life—and fast—I wouldn’t survive the year. So, I begrudgingly took the interview and landed the job. I figured finding purpose in the work would come later.
“And then—” he smiles, huffing out a breath—“my first year as a coach, I met this really talented kid who possessed all the underpinnings to not only make it to the league but to soar. He had a lot of anxiety, something I also struggled with in college. Only five years his senior, I saw so much of myself in him. He was so hungry to be great, we’d stay behind after everyone left and run drills. Hours and hours, practice after practice.”
My knee starts bouncing, and I can hear my teeth scraping against my nails.
“He was tenacious. He made me realize that if I couldn’t live out my dreams, I could at least take everything I knew and had learned to help him and others like him pursue theirs. That became my purpose,” he says.
“Did the kid make it to the league?” Tevin asks.
“Yeah, and he’s phenomenal,” he says, and goose bumps break out against my skin when his gaze darts my way quickly, then away.
Sid glances at me, silently asking if I’m good.
My knee stops bouncing when someone asks the question I knew was coming.
“Who is he?” Malik asks.
“Pass,” Aiden answers.
“I’m glad you’re still here today,” Ty says.
I think about him sitting in his car, drunk and armed with a loaded weapon. I think about what my life would have been like if he’d never entered it.
I push to my feet. “Bathroom,” I murmur.
Ty nods as I step away.
I’ve been so focused on my own shit, I never considered his perspective or experience. I knew about him not making the league, but he never shared how it impacted him. He was—heis—so damn good at coaching, I just thought he was happy doing it.
“Arnaz. You in here?”
I stand and peel open the bedroom door.
Aiden’s hand hovers in the air in front of the door across the hall.
“Hey.” I nod, and he slides past me into the room.
I press my back against the door. “A gun?”
“Yeah,” he says, barely above a whisper.
I screw my eyes closed as the weight of that hits.
I thought he had all the answers back then. Like he woke up every day knowing exactly where he was supposed to be.
“I never wanted to hurt you, but you have to understand I couldn’t cross that line.”
“Why?” I shuffle in place. “I was an adult, and it’s what I wanted.”
“It’s not what youneeded, and I don’t mean that to sound patronizing.” He raises his hands. “You were in so much pain when I met you, and you had your whole life ahead of you. I knew you’d be leaving within the year for the league.”
I rest my hands over my head as the pain from back then breathes instead of the anger.
“You never doubted for a second that I’d make the draft. I swear, sometimes your confidence was literally the only thing that kept me from—” My voice cracks.
