Chapter 1
Diana
"There you go. Now, slide to the left,” the assistant coach of the Los Angeles Stars calls out, giving more instructions to help me up my game. “Dribble it back. Switch hands."
I've been working with her for the last two years. At thirty years old, I have to work a little harder than these young kids who come in and try to take my spot on the team. Lately though, I've been wondering if it's worth it and if, instead, I should plan my future outside of basketball.
The only thing keeping me from doing that is that I don’t know where I would even start.
Instead, I’ve been a chicken. Keeping my head down and practicing twice as much, making sure I don't give the powers that be any reason to cut or trade me.
Two years ago, I had been traded here after spending my whole career with the Dallas Comets. Honestly, that shook me.
On my old team, I had known everyone and what to expect.
When you get traded, not only do you have to start all over getting to know a new team and how to make the chemistry work, but you are also being scrutinized every moment from everyone.
Your teammates, coaches, staff, even the fans, look at every single thing you do, wondering if you're going to be the one who helps the team.
Are you good enough? It's all very uncomfortable.
Thankfully, in my first season with the Stars, they had brought in a brand-new rookie named Jade and Jessica Chen from New York who had only been playing for three years.
We had connected instantly and were able to show that chemistry on the court too, shutting up any naysayers.
As a team, we were even able to win a championship.
But lately something’s not right, and I'm worried it might be me.
"Diana," I hear the coach call, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Standing up straight, I pull the ball up to my chest and call back, "Yes?"
"Get your head out of your ass and pay attention. I called for you to practice shooting along the three-point line, and you just kept dribbling around looking like a fool."
My face heats with embarrassment and I can feel my cheeks flush with color.
Shit, I must've been deep in my head. My response sticks in my throat and the words don't seem to come out.
Instead, I just nod my head once, letting her know I hear her.
I drop my gaze to the ground, disappointed that I'm not able to keep my head in the game because one misstep could cost me everything.
Slowly, I make my way toward the line and begin practicing the shots.
After I miss the first three, the coach yells out, "Diana, once you finish the five minutes, pack it up for the day. I'll see you tonight for late practice. And make sure you see a trainer; you're moving slower than normal."
I nod, feeling my back is a little stiff.
I take a moment to shake my body out, hoping that will help relax my muscles.
Taking another shot, I smile to myself when I make it.
I seem to find my groove because I make every shot after that for the next five minutes.
But the fact that she brought up that I'm not moving as fast as I used to has me worried. My body has been breaking down on me lately, but I was hoping that I was the only one who’d noticed.
"Hot Shot!" Jade yells after my last shot goes through the basket. I turn toward her and smile. Jade always makes me smile. Ever since her and Cliff got together, she's just happier. Which is nice because she was a real grump before they made it official. A pang hits my chest. I want that.
She disappears behind the locker room door, allowing me to move around the court, picking up the balls I’d used to shoot with and placing them on the rack. It only takes a few minutes, but before I know it, I'm making my way into the locker room.
Before I can pack up, I make a stop in the training room to get iced down.
It's like the moment I turned thirty my body decided to break down.
Not only do I have to worry about these young players showing me up, but I also have to worry about my body not moving the way it needs to. Getting older is shit.
"Hey, Rocky," I greet the trainer walking into the room.
"Hey Diana. You need an ice bath?" he asks.
"Yes. Please," I tell him.
Two minutes later, I'm climbing in the tub, closing my eyes and hoping to drift off to warmer climate in my mind, where I can just relax. Thankfully, even though the ice is unbearably cold, I can feel it working, reducing the swelling.
This season has been hard not just for me but the team, too. Since I'm fighting for my position on the team, it's like I'm always on, and sometimes I just want to be off.
The timer goes off before I'm able to really fall into how much I feel like I'm drowning. I've been playing basketball for so long I should be confident at this point, but lately it doesn't feel like it.
Climbing out of the bin, I wrap the towel around my body, and head to the table. Lying face down, the trainer applies BioFreeze on my back, but when he reaches my mid spine, I wince. Fuck. That must be what's causing me to move slower.
I take a deep breath, one I hope Rocky didn't notice. Unfortunately, I'm not so lucky. "Diana, did that hurt?"
"Did what hurt?" I ask trying to sound innocent as possible.
"Your back, when I touched it."
"Yes," I breathe out.
"One of the coaches mentioned that you were moving slower, but if you're wincing when I touch you, then we need to get it checked out," he says, leaving me to stare at him.
"I'm fine. It doesn't really hurt that bad," I say, trying to sound confident but with Rocky's next words I know he sees right through me.
"Your back shouldn't hurt when I press at such a light pressure. I'm going to call the team doctor to see what they think."
"Okay," I breathe out as I watch him walk out of the room.
If he's recommending the team doctor, this is not good.
Rocky understands how important it is for us to play and doesn't like to stand in the way.
Shaking my head, I try to rid myself of any negative thoughts.
Maybe it's nothing. I just need to stay calm until I know. My back feels stiff, but it’s not like there is anything actually wrong.
It's just age, right?
I can feel my heart rate start to kick up and I can't seem to catch my breath. What if something is really wrong and I can't play basketball any longer? What will I do? Basketball is everything. Except…lately I've been thinking about what it might be like to meet someone, start a family.
I mean it might be too late to meet someone, but starting a family? I could always do that by myself, no matter how hard it might be.
"Okay, I called the team doctor, and he definitely wants you to get an MRI," Rocky explains, walking back into the training room and breaking me out of my thoughts, or my spin out, whichever you want to call it.
"Sounds good. When?" I ask, trying to wrap my head around everything.
"Tomorrow morning at 7 a.m.," he says. "But before you go, take these." He holds his hand out with two pain pills, waiting for me.
I grab them and quickly swallow them down before leaving the training room to get ready to go home, promising myself that I'll try not to worry about my back until I hear back from the doctor. Who am I kidding? I'm going to worry the whole time.
"Hey, everything okay?" a feminine voice breaks through the haze I'm in.
I look up at the person with the voice and see one of my best friends, Jessica, staring at me.
"Yeah, I think so," I mumble, not wanting to admit to anyone what is going on.
"Are you sure? You look a little pale," she says.
"I have to get my back checked out," I whisper to her, unable to keep it in.
"Ooh...that's rough. But I'm sure it will be okay," she says.
"Yeah maybe…" I say, letting my voice trail off. I'm not sure what else to say, because she could be right. But if she's wrong and my back is really hurt, there is a chance that I'll have to quit basketball and finally face my fears of figuring out my future.
I take a deep breath and try to push away the tears that want to break through. I turn my back to Jessica and begin to take my stuff out of my locker, ready to go home and forget about my back until it’s time to find out what's wrong.