Page 8 of Making It Count

“Whatever,” Shay said and took her seat in one of the chairs that had been pulled out for them.

“Do not foul. Do you hear me?” Coach said as she stood in front of them. “Play smart. They have enough time to inbound and throw up a shot. They’ll probably have to take a three. Get your hands up, but don’t just hand them three free throws and a win.”

“They’re putting in Number Seven,” the assistant coach told Coach.

“She’s the best free-throw shooter but hasn’t hit a three all night. Let her shoot, if she gets it, but don’t foul her. If they get the ball inside to their center, foul her. She’s forty percent from the free-throw line. I’d rather her take a shot there than make an easy two. Everyone good?”

“Yes, Coach,” they all said.

“I want Hilton on the inbound. Layne, you take the center.”

“Me?”

“Her hands aren’t good. You might be able to get yours around the ball and hold it. She doesn’t just go up for a shot; she brings it down first. That’s your chance. Shay, you’re on Fourteen. You know how fast she is. You stay between her and the ball. Got it?”

Shay nodded and wiped her face with a towel. Then, the buzzer went off, and it was time for them to get back out there.

“All I’m saying is that I was open, and we could’ve been up by two and not worried about them getting the ball inside and making a quick two, which would cost us the game,” Shay said.

“Shay, come on,” Layne replied. “One more play. Let’s just get through this.”

Layne stood in front of the player inbounding the ball. She made herself big, jumping up and down, waving her arms around, and watched the ball in front of her, trying to figure out where the play might be going. The player had three seconds left to get it in. Two seconds. One second… She tossed it to a player at half-court, which was the only open player she could get it to. With one second left, that player hurled the ball at the basket, and they all watched it miss far wide and land in the stands.

Dunbar had won the game.

???

“How are you?” Layne asked Martin when she caught her in the hotel hallway later that night.

“Just out here getting more ice, like you, since the pack they gave me is already melted,” she said and put the ice bucket from the room under the ice machine down the hall. “My ankle will be fine by the championship.”

“Good.”

“It was fine tonight. I could have played more. They wrapped it, and it’s a little swollen, but not a big deal. I’ve played on worse. How’s yours?”

“Oh. Fine,” she replied. When Martin removed her own bucket, Layne placed hers under the dispenser and pressed the button. “I rolled it, but it’s fine. Coach just wants me to be cautious. No big deal.”

“What’s gotten into you, by the way?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look… You’re good; don’t get me wrong. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. But you’ve only ever really been good. The past two games, you’ve been great. What gives?”

Layne stopped the ice machine and said, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s all hitting me that it’s about to be over.”

“The season?”

“My basketball career, yeah. I never wanted to go pro, and I’m not good enough to do so, anyway, so I know that if I’m out on the court, that could be my last time. And I so rarely play more than three or four minutes, and only in a few games, so… I think it just hit me that it’s almost over, and I don’t want to be the reason we lose something you’ve all worked so hard for.”

“You’ve worked hard for it, too, Layne. Maybe not in game minutes, but in practice minutes, helping us get ready for games,” Martin said.

“I know. But it’s not the same, is it? Anyway, I hope you’re good for the game. I really do.”

“But if I’m not, you will be?” Martin asked with a smirk.

“If I have to be, yeah.”

“That’s how all this works: next player up. It’s a team sport, right? I’m going to make sure I’m ready to go, but you’re better than Ledger, Stoll. I think her heart is in it more than yours is, but you’re better. So, be better and help us win.”

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