Page 73 of Coach
I sat there for a while, elbows on my knees, watching the chaos settle into rhythm.
Every time he laughed—really laughed—I felt it, right in the center of my chest.
It wasn’t just that he knew the game.
It was the way hesawthem, his players.
Every kid on that court got a piece of him, not just instructions, not just drills—but attention, patience, and respect. When one of the younger guys fumbled a pass and looked like he might dissolve from shame, Mateo was already there, crouched beside him, voice low but steady. He didn’t coddle, buthe didn’t scold, either. He was just . . . steady, like he was anchoring the kid, while the rest of the world moved around them too fast.
And he knew them, knew who needed pushing and who needed pulling, who needed an arm around the shoulder and who needed a barked command.
What Mateo did wasn’t coaching, not really.
It was mentoring.
It was teaching.
It wasseeingthem.
And they gave it back.
I could see it in every nod, every set of shoulders pulled back into place, every kid running harder the next play because Mateo said their name and meant it.
I hadn’t expected that.
I’d expected charm and jokes, the fast-talking guy who befriended old ladies in checkout lines and made me forget how to use my words.
I hadn’t expected this . . . weight.
This quiet strength.
And it hit me—sitting up there in the rafters like a man trying not to fall headfirst into something soft and terrifying—that I wasn’t just attracted to him.
I admired him.
Which was so much worse.
Because once admiration was involved, the fall wasn’t just physical.
It was personal.
Chapter 23
Mateo
“Feet set, Cam!” I called. “You’re not dancing at prom; you’re sinking a shot!”
Cam groaned but reset. The ball went up, then rimmed out.
“Board, DeShawn!”
DeShawn snatched the rebound like it owed him money. Then one dribble, a fast pivot, and a clean outlet.
It was better, but still sloppy.
I jotted on my clipboard in my shorthand chicken scratch—transition awareness, spacing on reversal, stagger screen communication: all trash.
Need work. Need drills. Need time.
