Chapter 9 #3
“I’m saying that from the perspective of a coach who knows that we have a team of players who are incredibly talented and some better than you.
When I say game ready, I mean Royals game ready.
You need to understand how things work here.
What your role will be in winning championships with our franchise.
When you step on the court, it won’t be about you, Vaughn, it will be about the entire team.
I brought you here because you’re very fucking talented but I need more than you putting points on the board.
I need a commitment to ensure that we, as a team, work when you guys are on the court.
If you’re not willing to do your part, then you might as well walk now.
This…” he pointed to the wall, which displayed murals of past Royals championships, “…is about the team. No one player is bigger than the team. You ready to work?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
“Alright then.”
An hour later my damn arms and legs were burning from running the court and shooting for an hour and a half straight.
To say I underestimated how hard these muthafuckers were going to push me wouldn’t do this shit justice.
After shooting off the dribble and making the shot, I jogged back to half court, using my forearm to wipe sweat from my face, waiting for the next run.
“You’re planting your feet too wide. That’s opening you up too much and gonna make it easy to block the shot. You’re too low.”
Is he fucking for real?
At this point I wasn’t sure why the hell I had a contract. This muthafucker was critiquing everything I did.
“I’ll just stay in the paint then.”
“Doesn’t matter where you are on the court, they’re still going to block the shot, Vaughn. We’re going to fix that, though. Reset, and this time when I sent it, catch, shoot, and don’t fucking bounce.”
I gritted my teeth but kept my thoughts to myself.
He lifted a ball from the rack near him and dribbled with me set and ready to go. I took off and he sent the ball right to my chest. I took the shot from the top of the key but it bounced off the rim.
“The release was late, Vaughn. The ball was already on its way down before you let it go. You have to be quicker than that and keep your gotdamn elbow tight.” He pointed to half court. “Reset.”
“Y’all bring me here because of what I can do or because of what you want me to do?” I gritted out, feeling completely over this shit.
He locked his arms over his chest and smiled arrogantly. “It really doesn’t matter does it, you signed the contract, you’re a Royal, this is Royals ball. How or why you got here doesn’t fucking matter. You do what I need you to do.”
“Nah, fuck that. You can keep this shit.” I crossed the court and walked past him, making contact with his shoulder, but he grabbed my arm to stop me.
My jaw locked and my eyes dropped to where he had a hold on my arm.
Coach Rowe released me and held his hands up, palms facing me to show he was retreating.
Yeah nigga, smart fucking move.
“Look, we need to clear up some things…”
“I don’t need to clear up shit.” I said without hesitation.
“Then let me.” He brushed a hand over his head.
“You have talent, Vaughn. Raw talent. I’ve seen it enough times to know you’re supposed to be here but you lack the fundamental training that will keep you here.
The gift will only get you so far. You’re going to be matched up with players who have been to the top training camps all over the world.
They’ll know how to read you, and when they do, they’re going to shut you down. ”
“Man, fuck that. Training or not, my numbers are better than theirs. I’m putting up points because I’m just as good, which you know, or I wouldn’t be here.”
“You’re right, you are just as good. Why not be better?
The average player has to train to be half as good as you are.
If you can incorporate the fundamentals, you will be unstoppable, Vaughn.
Trust me, I know, and if you don’t trust me, talk to your teammates, Kameron and Meyer.
They’ve been right where you are. Hell, Meyer walked on to his high school team senior year.
Never played ball anywhere other than his neighborhood courts before then and was granted a full ride to CFU.
The only thing they cared about was winning championships, so his first season with the Royals he had to learn the game. ”
“The fuck you mean learn the game? He won championships with CFU.”
“Just because you can put points on the board doesn’t mean you know the game or how to play it.
That was his raw talent. You winning them was your raw talent.
I need you to want more than putting points on the board because when you can’t, what’s next?
You trust me, I’ll make you the player who’s not just in the conversation, Vaughn.
You’ll be the entire fucking discussion.
I’m not giving you shit because I question whether or not you’re talented.
You are. Let me give you the tools necessary to elevate what God blessed you with. ”
I glared at him for a minute longer then nodded.
“We working or you leaving?” Rowe asked, lifting another ball from the rack.
“We can work.”
“Let’s go then. Three point line. We’re gonna focus on shooting off the dribble.” He pushed a bounce pass my way, delivering the ball, which I dribbled to the three point line and set up, waiting for his instructions.
Whether I liked it or not, he was right about one thing, I’d signed the gotdamn contract, and if this was what it was going to take to put me in a starting position, then I was gonna man up.
Game muthafucking on…