Page 250 of Coach
There was nothing to be done.
No escape.
No slinking away.
So I waved back.
And the home crowd erupted.
Chapter 31
Mateo
The ref blew his whistle, tossed the ball high above the players, and the gym exploded.
Not literally, not with pressure or nerves, but with sheer lopsided dominance.
This was a team we beat every year. Badly. Their coach was a nice guy, and their kids tried hard—but try-hard didn’t stop fast breaks and tight zone defense. It didn’t stop Cam when he decided the paint belonged to him. It didn’t stop Will from running circles around defenders who couldn’t keep up with a traffic cone.
“Get ready,” I muttered to Ryan, already stepping onto the court as the first bucket dropped with ten seconds off the clock. “It’s going to be ugly.”
By the time we hit four minutes into the first quarter, we were up 12–0, and the Bobcats had barely taken a shot, much less scored.
And that’s when I turned and looked up.
I’d seen him when he walked in; it was hard not to. Shane wasn’t a background kind of man. From the grunts, groans, and whispers that followed his entrance, I was sure every mom—and a few dads—had noticed him, too. I could’ve warned him that would happen, that he would become the talk of the PTA the moment they set eyes on him. I could’ve told him that—if he’d let me know he was coming. Jesus, I was glad to see him, but what in the name of Madonna and her dancers was he thinking?
I’d shoved it all aside, put my mental blinders on.
Now, as we subbed out two starters to give the bench some early burn, I let my eyes flick toward the top row of the bleachers.
There he was.
Same flannel from earlier.
Same white T-shirt.
His beefy arms were crossed over his chest, face unmoving, expression unreadable.
He was staring . . . hard.
Not at the game.
At me.
My throat dried out.
I turned back toward the court before I did something ridiculous, like grin in front of two hundred screaming parents.
“Ethan, get in there,” I barked. “And stop fiddlingwith your jersey like it owes you rent—tuck it in and get out there.”
The boy jogged on.
Our second string could’ve taken the rest of the game and still pulled the win, doubling the other team’s score. That’s how far ahead we were.
Ryan leaned over. “You wanna call off the dogs at some point?”
“After halftime,” I said, my eyes still flicking toward the scoreboard. “Let them run the full playbook. They earned the reps.”
