Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Paisley walked the few blocks to the town square.
She had contacted her assistant yesterday, and Hope Sewell had agreed to meet her for breakfast at Dizzy’s Diner.
She was looking forward to learning more about the basketball program from Hope, knowing the assistant would be critical in helping her to establish a winning tradition with the Lady Hawks.
She entered the diner. At seven o’clock on a Monday morning, it was over three-quarters full. A white-haired man in his mid-seventies with bright, blue eyes greeted her.
“You wouldn’t happen to be Paisley Roberts, would you?”
“That’s me,” she confirmed.
“Boy, you’re a tall drink of water,” he observed.
“I’m Dizzy Baker, by the way. Christened Delbert, but my daddy was a baseball fan and thought Dizzy Dean hung the moon.
He’s the one who started calling me Dizzy, and it stuck.
This is my place. I’m glad you’ve come to Hawthorne, Paisley.
I don’t miss any home games at the high school.
Ever,” he said emphatically. “Grew up watching and playing the basics. Football. Basketball. Baseball, of course. Living in Hawthorne, though, I’ve become a huge fan of all the sports played by the Hawks.
I’ve learned a lot about soccer. Tennis. ”
He grinned, leaning in to share a confidence. “And I think girls know how to play basketball better than boys. When I’m not here working the breakfast and lunch shifts, you can find me at whatever sporting event is happening after school that day or that night.”
“It’s good to know you’re such a steadfast supporter of the Hawks, Dizzy,” she said, thinking him quite a character. “It’s nice to meet a true fan.”
“Come with me. Hope’s already grabbed a booth for you two.”
He led her to a booth, where a woman slid from it and offered Paisley a hand.
“It’s great to meet you, Coach,” Hope said, causing a thrill to rush through Paisley since it was the first time anyone had addressed her that way.
She shook hands with Hope, who was about five-six, with brown hair and a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
They took their seats, and Dizzy asked, “What would you like to drink?”
“Water, please,” Paisley said. “And a glass of skim milk with my meal.”
She noticed that Hope already had a cup of coffee and a tall glass of ice water on her side of the table.
“Be right back,” Dizzy said.
She glanced at the menu already sitting on the table and then asked Hope, “What’s good here?”
“What’s not good?” Hope replied, laughing. “Seriously, you never get a bad meal at Dizzy’s. Whatever you order will taste great. You’ll have to come back at lunchtime and try his grilled cheese and tomato basil soup. Or even the tuna melt. They’re my favorite things on the menu.”
She perused the menu a moment, and then Dizzy returned with her water.
“Know what you want, ladies?”
Hope ordered the eggs Benedict, along with sides of hash browns and fruit.
Paisley said, “I’m going with Dizzy’s Delight. Make the eggs over easy. Ham for my meat. Hash browns.” She paused. “I’m in a quandary. I don’t know if I should order the pancake, sourdough toast, or biscuit with gravy.”
“The pancakes are light and fluffy,” Dizzy told her, “but the sausage gravy we make here makes the biscuits to die for.”
She handed him her menu. “Then I’ll go with the biscuit and gravy.”
As they waited for their breakfasts to arrive, Paisley said, “I’m sure you already know about me. I’d like to hear about you.”
“I’m from a small town in the Panhandle,” the assistant shared.
“Youngest and only girl out of four siblings. I played every sport I could in elementary school. First base in softball. Setter in volleyball. Several different positions in soccer. But I fell in love with basketball when I turned ten and concentrated on it in middle school and high school.”
“What positions have you played?”
“In middle school I started as a small forward. Switched to point guard and shooting guard. Freshman year, my coach put me at shooting guard, and I stuck with that all through high school. At my height, I was too short for center or forward. My ball handling skills weren’t good enough to be a point guard and run an offense the way you’ve done during your career. ”
“Any college ball on your resumé?”
Hope shook her head. “I was a good but not great player in high school. Didn’t receive any offers. Didn’t expect any. I graduated from Texas Tech. Played intramurals, coed basketball while I was there.”
“I know last year was your first year in coaching,” Paisley said, “How did you choose Hawthorne?”
“You go where the job is,” Hope said. “My coach in high school had played in college with Coach Finnerty. Half of getting a job in basketball in Texas is who you know. The other half is being in the right place at the right time. My coach recommended me, and that was good enough for Coach Finnerty.”
Dizzy arrived bearing plates with their breakfasts.
Paisley put ketchup atop her golden hash browns and dug into her meal.
The biscuit and gravy was everything the diner owner had promised.
The eggs were cooked to perfection, and the ham was smoky and slightly sweet.
It was the hash browns that won her over, though.
Without a doubt, she knew she would become a regular at the diner.
“I need to know everything about our team,” she said after they’d eaten in silence for a few minutes.
“Why the team hit the skids. Who the returning players are and what skills they have. I especially want to learn about the offense Coach Finnerty ran and what holes were in it. Same with the defense.”
Hope looked at her reluctantly. “I don’t really feel right saying anything bad about Coach Finnerty’s playbook.”
Looking steadily at the assistant, Paisley said, “While I hope we become friends, Hope, our relationship is, first and foremost, a professional one. Just as a doctor wouldn’t reveal sensitive medical information about a patient and a lawyer wouldn’t share confidences his client had voiced, nothing goes further than me when we talk.
About anything. I want to make our basketball team into a winning one.
I want to create a culture of learning and respect.
I don’t need to know every little thing that went on before I arrived, but you’ve got to help me out here.
I swear whatever you tell me stays with me.
She grinned. “After all, I did spend a lot of time in Vegas.”
Her quip caused Hope to laugh, and Paisley crossed her fingers, hoping that broke the ice between them for good. Trust among coaching staffs was vitally important if any success were to take place.
Hope swallowed. “I was in a tough position last year,” she began.
“Being a first year, I knew to keep my mouth shut from the beginning and just try to learn. Also, Coach Finnerty was the type who wouldn’t have listened even if I did voice an opinion.
She was pretty much one of those my way or the highway-type coaches.
While I believe in discipline, she went overboard with it.
A girl might miss a critical free throw during a game, and the whole team would be required to stay after that game, running dozens of laps. ”
Hope took a sip of her coffee. “First of all, I don’t believe in physical punishment when someone misses a shot.
It would’ve been a better use of time if that one player maybe had been required to practice extra free throws.
That would’ve been beneficial. Not running on tired legs after a demanding game.
I also thought it was wrong to make the entire team stay to run laps.
It got to where the girls were paranoid about making a mistake, which just made them prone to doing so.
You could tell they began to dread games instead of enjoying playing their competition. ”
Paisley was horrified at hearing this.
“From what I gathered, the first few years Finnerty coached in Hawthorne, she inherited a great team and didn’t have to do much coaching.
Once those players graduated, though, she was under a lot of pressure to produce the same kind of results.
She cracked the whip hard, thinking harsh discipline would force the players to be better.
Instead, talented athletes left the program.
Sometimes, for other sports. Sometimes, just to get away from Finnerty. ”
Hope shook her head. “Part of me feels like I’m betraying her by saying all this, but it needs to be said. You’re not inheriting much of a team, Coach. We barely have enough girls to have five starters on the court.”
It was more serious than she could have imagined. Paisley had been in worse situations before, though.
“Let’s talk offense first.”
Hope elaborated on the offense run last year, and Paisley asked for the assistant’s honest feedback. Hope opened up, throwing out ideas she had and would have liked to try.
“A lot of what you’re saying makes sense. We’re definitely going to incorporate your ideas into our offense this year.”
Surprise filled the younger woman’s face. “Are you serious? You mean you’ll consider using some of my plays?”
“I’ll do more than consider. We will use some of them.
The same will be true for plays our players suggest. They’re the ones out on the court.
They see more than we can, sometimes. My coaching style is collaborative, Hope.
I may hold the head coach title, but I want you to feel on equal footing as far as contributing play material. ”
After that, Hope visibly relaxed, ideas gushing from her. Paisley began taking notes on her phone, excitement filling her.
They talked about the defense next and how Finnerty had only played one-on-one. While that worked in the right situation, if there were a mismatch in height among players, it could prove to be a real disaster.
She said, “I’ll mix up one-on-one with zone coverage.”