Page 54 of Lovely War
One day I poke my head into Ben’s office. “Is three minutes too long for this video?” I ask. “I should cap it at two and a half, right?”
“Do what you want,” he says with a slow, private smile. “Numbers aren’t real.”
That night after my shower, I’m standing in the bathroom, squeezing some of the moisture out of my hair with a towel. I grab my blow dryer from the cabinet under the sink and check my phone before I plug it in, recoiling when I see what’s waiting for me. It’s one long message, longer than the entire screen. To reach the top I have to scroll up.
Before I start reading, I can already tell this is something he drafted with painstaking effort. He read it and revised it and reread it. He might even have put it together in his notes app to make sure he didn’t accidentally send it before it was done. My chest burns with anxious dread. Nothing good can come of a message like this.
I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something. It never seems like the right time but now that we’ve become friends (I hope?) I think I should be honest with you, so here goes.
I told you once that I’m waiting for the right time to leave Ardwyn. The truth is, I’ve always planned to go coach with Maynard at Arizona Tech someday. The timing isn’t set in stone and he doesn’t have an opening right now, but we’ve talked about it for years. Obviously, the stuff we talked about with Phil Coleman is weighing on me, and I’m still not sure what to do about that. But I owe it to Coach to give it a chance, see how he runs the program, and try to be a positive influence. I know you have a different opinion of him than I do and I respect that. But I don’t think you can possibly understand how much he’s done for me and my family. I’ve looked up to him for my entire adult life. He taught me what it means to be a leader. I need to give it a shot.
Anyway, this may seem sudden, but I want to be honest with you and it was starting to feel weird that I hadn’t said anything.
I put the hair dryer on the counter and go to the green room. After lighting a candle, I nestle myself in the cocoon of the beanbag, watching the tiny flame in the windowsill stretch and ripple. The faint sound of the television seeps infrom the apartment downstairs. Sporadic whistles and the fervent shouty voice of a commentator, a basketball game, probably the big Duke-UNC one.
The lump in my throat is so solid it’s painful. It’s been easy for Ben and me to pretend Maynard isn’t a sticking point, because neither of us brings him up anymore. But now it’s not just a source of conflict between the two of us. Itmatters.The idea of myfriend(one I occasionally thirst after, but a friend all the same) working side by side with Maynard is sickening enough, but it’s worse than that. There’s no way Maynard has changed his behavior since leaving Ardwyn. If Ben joins his team, he’ll be part of a culture that enables Maynard to hurt people.
I can’t let that happen.
I lie there for a long time, until the fabric beneath my head is damp from my hair. Eventually my left butt cheek falls asleep, so I climb out of the chair and sit on the floor. The turf scratches the backs of my bare thighs. I pick up my phone.
“Hey,” Kat says when she answers. Music blares in the background.
“Hey. Are you out?” My voice is high and wobbly.
“Nope.” The music turns off. “What’s wrong?”
I tell her everything, and Kat doesn’t speak until I’m done. “Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here. Did you know they were that close?”
“I knew he still idolized him. I knew they kept in touch. I didn’t know he was going to move across the country someday to be his right-hand man.”
“It’s ridiculously naïve of him to think he can go into a situation like that and fix any ethical fuckery that’s going on.Maybe he’s just saying he wants to be a positive influence to make himself feel better about his decision.”
I comb the turf with anxious fingers. “I don’t think he would do that. He sincerely believes the Phil Coleman thing was an isolated incident, or that worst-case scenario, he can stop Maynard from doing anything similar again.”
Kat snorts. “Which is absurd because he was so oblivious to Fuckwaffle’s bullshit he didn’t even know what happened to Phil, and he wasthere.”
“That’s how it works,” I say. “Maynard shows people only what he wants them to see to get what he wants from them. And it’s easy for him to take advantage of his power because everyone else feels easily replaceable.”
The structure of the college sports industry breeds abuse. To outsiders, it’s glamorous, and those in charge capitalize on that. A large number of people clamor for a small number of junior positions, eager to get a foot in the door, even for low or no pay. They put up with lots of things they shouldn’t because they’re lucky to be there, or so everyone says. They can’t demand better treatment because a thousand other people not demanding better treatment would happily take their places tomorrow. Those who attain the highest positions are paid fuck-you money and worshipped like gods. The environment in many programs oozes toxic masculinity: glorifying toughness, celebrating dominance, literal and figurative locker room talk. Those who embrace it often rise to the top.
“What are you going to do?” Kat asks.
I squeeze the damp ends of my hair. “Nothing yet. But after the season is over, if we’re still friends…I’ll tell him. Maybe not everything, but enough.”
Kat exhales. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
Only a handful of people know what Maynard did, how he drove me away from Ardwyn and basketball altogether. My family, Eric, Cassie, and Oliver—that’s it. I haven’t told anyone else, but this isn’t a difficult decision. It will be a difficult conversation, however.I’ve looked up to him for my entire adult life,Ben said.He taught me what it means to be a leader.
It might break him.
“Okay, so one more thing,” Kat says. “And this is important. You know that what you’re doing with him is flirting, right? Like, you said ‘friends’ but that’s not exactly what’s happening here.”
“Kat. Stop.”
“Annie. The Rold Gold.”
