Chapter 29
Jabari
It’s weird knowing I’m about to go up to the box seats with the other injured players.
Though I’ve been doing it since February, it’s different now that the world knows I can’t see well.
Plus, I’m not used to being sidelined. However, today, Val will be in the stands, and after the game, we’re going on our first real date.
I almost feel like the old me on game days.
Ready for the start but anxious for the end, hoping the scoreboard causes us to celebrate.
How will Val rate our date? Will she enjoy our time enough to go out with me again? And again and again?
“Dude, I can hear you thinking all the way over here,” Javier murmurs from right next to me on the locker room bench.
Past experience has taught me he’s probably in prayer mode. Most likely, his eyes are closed, head bowed, and palms up in benediction. I’m not sure what Javier prays about before games, but this is his game-day ritual. I know better than to disturb him.
“Sorry, man.”
“You’ll be fine on your date. Now focus on the game. You’re still one of us.”
Right, because the suit I’m wearing instead of a pair of hockey skates says team player.
“Coach wears a suit too.” Javier chuckles. “I told you, you’re thinking way too loud.”
“My bad.” I smirk. “Go back to praying.”
“Maybe you should try it.”
I raise my brows. “Praying?”
“Yep. Try it. It’ll settle the nerves.”
“How?” My face heats. Is that a dumb question?
“Bow your head, close your eyes, and say what’s on your heart. God will listen and take care of the rest.”
Is it really that simple? My brows furrow.
“Seriously, just try it.”
I do as he instructs.
Yet this posture feels a little uncomfortable . . . vulnerable even. Can I trust that God listens to someone like me? Don’t I have to believe everything about Him in order to gain an audience with Him?
Trust Him to take care of the rest.
The thought is a mashup of what Javier said and a gut instinct. I search my thoughts, what’s in my heart. What do I want to share?
Um, it’s Jabari Hall. You probably already know that since You’re God, but I guess I’m just introducing myself.
Nice to meet You. Javier believes in You.
So does Val. Maybe even my mom, though she seems to regret so much time passing since talking to You.
I don’t know what I believe, but I know I want that feeling.
. . . You know, the feeling that You’ve got my back no matter what.
I don’t know what that’s like, though Val’s beginning to show me.
I want to have her back as much as she’s had mine.
And I want . . . more. I want more, God, if it’s okay to admit that to You.
I want her to be my person, and I want to be hers.
And maybe You understand that because I guess You want the same things from us.
Huh. My eyes open at the realization. God wants more from me. He wants to be my person—rather my God. Goose bumps erupt on my arms, and I shiver, but it’s not from the cold we’re about to endure in the arena. It’s with an awareness that feels otherworldly.
“All right, gang, let’s get our heads on straight.
” Coach’s yell interrupts my introspection.
“New York is going to try and shut us out with their goalie. He has an impressive record this season, but he does have a weakness. Exploit that and you’ll be able to score.
Leave your troubles in the locker room, work as a team, and we’ll succeed. Understand?”
We cheer.
“All right, Warriors on three!” Coach throws his hand in the middle, and the guys surround him.
Past memories have me picturing it well. One man in a suit, the rest in skates—well, I’m in a suit as well.
“One! Two! Three!”
“Warriors!”
Roars of excitement erupt as they make their way to the tunnel. I wish I could follow them instead of heading to the box seats, so removed from the action. But I’ll still cheer with the crowd.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out.
“‘Can’t wait to see you,’” the software reads.
I pocket my phone with a smile on my face.
When I’m seated, the fans are still cheering.
The Warriors’ fans are always willing to travel to away destinations to support us—not to mention the fans we have living in New York.
It’s an incredible experience to go to another team’s arena and find your own fans there supporting you.
I gaze down into the crowd, imagining Val’s reaction.
Is she smiling? Is she dressed head to toe in Warriors’ gear?
I rub my chest and face forward.
It doesn’t matter if you don’t see her clearly. She still wants to be with you. She still sees worth in you.
I swallow. Maybe the bigger concern is whether I know my own worth.
It’s not about the wealth I’ve accumulated.
I certainly won’t go hungry if I never work another day in my life.
It’s about what I have to offer. I still want to be a productive person and make some kind of difference in the world.
If I can’t do that playing in an arena anymore, then how will I contribute?
Talking to the potential donor yesterday made me feel like I’m still a part of the sport I’ve loved all my life. I didn’t feel useless, even though the job offer looks an awful like a pity hire.
“Jabari, it doesn’t matter what their intentions are. What matters is how you react. If you don’t want to be pitied, rebuff it. Change the narrative so that it benefits you and influences how you’ll respond.”
Val’s words echo in my head, and I straighten my shoulders.
How do I visualize my worth? Am I only worthy as a hockey player, or do I have value because I’m me?
God values you no matter what.
I blink, trying to remember where I’ve heard that before. Then it clicks. Javier told me that after a tough loss one day. I’d been beating myself up for not playing at optimum, and he told me that God valued me no matter what.
Is that why people feel grateful toward Him?
Believe in Him? Because He sees our worth beyond what our own eyes can fathom?
The idea entices me. I can get behind a God who cares for me even if I never play hockey again, never see a single thing clearly again.
One who wants to be my God and I His person.
The national anthem plays, and I shake my head. Like Coach always says, time to get my head in the game. There will be time to be introspective later, but it’s not during the first period when we face our division rivals.
I clap my hands and cheer at the end of the song. “Go, Warriors!”
The game is entirely too fast for me to follow what’s going on, let alone where the puck is, but I’ve got my AirPods in. I’m tuned in to the announcers commentating specifically for those of us who are vision impaired. I had no idea it was a thing until one of the staffers informed me.
When the horn goes off, I cheer. According to the announcer, Tae is the one to light the lamp. Tae is probably now skating by to slap hands in celebration with the guys waiting for their turn on the ice.
I grin. For some reason, the game feels different. I don’t feel as isolated from the interaction. Though I’m not on the ice, I’m still part of the fandom. For now, that has to be enough.
The game zips by until there are only a few seconds of the third period left. The Warriors are up by three. There’s no way New York will beat us.
The buzzer sounds, and I throw my hands in the air. We won!
I’m not superstitious, but the win makes me hope tonight’s date will go just as well.
Noah tugs on my elbow, and I snap out of my thoughts.
Thanks to all of the occupational therapy I’ve been doing, I don’t need him to guide me down the corridor.
After all, been down one arena tunnel, you’ve been through them all.
As we enter the visitors’ locker room, I exhale slowly.
At least I don’t have to shower and change back into my game-day suit.
In fact, I don’t even have to wait around.
I can make my way to the room where Val will be waiting with all the other hockey players’ wives and girlfriends.
However, I want to hear Coach’s speech and congratulate the guys.
Soon the team filters in. Their joy is palpable, and Raimo shouts loudly, which inspires the others to cheer as well. I join in, letting out a whoop.
Everyone starts yelling when a figure walks in.
“Settle down for a moment,” Coach booms.
We sit down in front of the lockers.
“You did exactly what I told you to do, but, man, I didn’t expect it to be so spectacular.”
“’Cuz we’re peak!” Raimo shouts.
Coach chuckles. “Every one of you put it out on the line tonight. I hope you enjoy your celebration.”
Pascal lets out an ear-piercing whistle. I know it’s him because he always does it after a win.
“All right, all right. I know you’re going to go out tonight, but make sure you’re on the bus tomorrow on time. I will leave your drunk selves behind if I have to.”
“I’m not drinking,” Tae announces.
We all laugh. Tae made the mistake of drinking all night once and has never done it again. He slept right through his alarm and missed the flight, because Coach has no problem with teaching us a lesson.
After his speech is over, I slap Raimo’s back and congratulate Javier.
“Go get your girl,” Javier says.
“Remember to be romantic,” Raimo adds.
I smirk. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, treat her like the woman you want to wife up,” Javier announces. “Something my dad told me when I was young.”
“Thanks.” That’s actually genius advice. One day, I envision myself saying I do to Val, which means I better get my act together.
Noah leads me to the room where our friends and family are waiting for us. I step inside, and some of the noise hushes. Probably wives and girlfriends glancing to see if it’s their hockey player. Just as predictably, the noise rises when they see it’s only me.
Then I hear a voice.
“Jabari.”
My lips curve, then Val is in front of me, her fingers skimming mine. I link our hands. “I’ve been waiting all day to be with you,” I murmur.
“Oh good, I’m not the only one.”
Anticipation thrums through my veins. “Want to get out of here?”
“Yes, please.”
I crook my elbow, and she slides her arm through.
“Treat her like the woman you want to wife up.”
That’s exactly what I intend to do.