Page 42 of Game Point
Darting around the corridors, lined with players midway through their warm-ups, coaches giving them last-minute pieces of advice, members of the press looking around for a big scoop. One locker room had the door shut, the sharp noise of what I was sure was a racket being destroyed coming from within.
Making my way towards the women’s locker room, the door still cracked open, I held up my hand to knock on the doorframe when I paused, overhearing a voice from within.
‘I told you to stick to the baseline.’ I placed the voice as Brooke, the Australian twang telling me everything I needed to know.
‘I won, didn’t I?’ Dylan argued. I paused, unsure if I should interrupt this conversation judging from the ire in Dylan’s voice.
‘That’s not the point. If you don’t listen to me, then why am I even your coach?’ The reply had me standing still, cataloguing her coach’s responses. I was still to see Brooke in action, still to hear a report of any useful action. I stepped to the side, leaning against the wall beside the door as if I was waiting for them to be finished, but still allowing myself to hear the argument unfolding inside.
‘To coach me?’ Dylan retorted. ‘I tried what you said, and it wasn’t working. Inés is an adaptive player. I know how she plays.’
Dylan had won, and Brooke was still picking her apart?
‘That wasn’t the game plan.’
‘No, it wasn’tyourgame plan,’ Dylan replied. ‘I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen, and I wasn’t about to let this match slip away from me.’
‘Watch how you talk to me. I don’t have to be here.’ A shiver ran down my spine at Brooke’s words, but Dylan’s response had me almost breaking out into a happy dance.
‘You’re right, you don’t.’
A group of giggling fans passed, and I pushed from the wall, hand rubbing the back of my neck, trying to play it cool. As soon as they disappeared, I went straight back to continue my eavesdropping.
‘You want to risk going without a coach? Right before the final?’ Brooke let out a cruel laugh. ‘Wouldn’t want to replay the past here, Bailey.’
A cutting silence fell over the room.
‘I just … you need to listen to me as much as I need to listen to you. I’m not a child. I’ve been playing since I was four. I have years of competitive experience under my belt now. But you still treat me as if I know nothing.’
‘And you play like you know everything. You’re cocky on the court. And while that might serve you well, Dylan, you still need support. Think of the work we’ve done these few weeks getting those movements right; your footwork has really come along.’
Dylan’s words were hesitant, as if she was not quite sure if she believed the mixed compliment. ‘Thank you.’
‘But without my help, how do you expect to close out this last match?’ Brooke added. ‘Thefinal, Dylan. This is where you always fail.’
Something ripped open deep within me, as if I wasfeeling the same wound that Dylan was. For Brooke to bring that up, right as she claimed her position in the final,feedingthat negativity already clear in her head. This was not what somebody on your team was supposed to do, and on top of that, absolutely not what Dylan needed to hear.
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ Dylan sounded entirely detached, as if she’d already given up. But how else was she supposed to feel when her coach didn’t have faith in her?
‘I have confidence, Dylan. The question is, do you?’ I heard noises of movement from within the locker room. I moved away, as if I’d never been there in the first place. Turning to look over my shoulder, I watched as Brooke left, turning around a corner. I did a 180, not pausing this time as I knocked on the locker-room door.
‘Dylan?’ I waited a moment, hearing her soft voice reply, before I pushed the door open enough to pop my head in to take in the sight of her. She was sitting on a bench, the room behind her empty. Her hair still tucked behind her ears, her bag beside her as she packed furiously. ‘Hey, you played great out there.’
‘Thanks.’ She looked up to me, her eyes lighting up slightly. ‘Have you seen Inés?’
‘She will be fine. Inés always gets her own back.’
Dylan only grimaced, a slight line of worry creasing in her forehead.
‘You held your own on the court,’ I paused, ‘and with Brooke.’
She paused, ‘You heard?’
I sat down on the bench beside her, our bare kneestouching, the proximity of skin-on-skin distracting. My gaze shifted back to her, finding her eyes already on me.
‘What do you think?’ she asked, ‘about what she said?’
I swallowed uncomfortably, ‘I hate agreeing with her. I think she has suggested a lot of wrong things for you …’ I trailed off, losing my nerve. ‘But the confidence thing, there’s some truth to that.’
