Chapter 54 Riggs
FIFTY-FOUR
RIGGS
The first and second rounds of the NCAA tournament are in California. We took care of business in our first game here. It’s nice when it isn’t close. Us starters only played the first half, and by the time the buzzer sounded, we had won by thirty points.
I congratulate my teammates, excited that we are moving on to the next game on Sunday. I then walk through the line, greeting the opposing team, and give each of them a “good game.”
When I get back to the bench, I see Reagan talking to Jordan and pointing up to the crowd where Mackenzie sits. Then she hugs him goodbye and climbs up to her best friend. I watch her walk all the way up the stairs and out onto the concourse before I look away.
“Hart, you ready to go, man?” I hear Jordan from behind me. I don’t know how long I was staring, but it must have been a minute because we’re the only two left out here.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I tell him, looking up one more time, knowing she’s long gone.
After the team dinner, I go to Jake’s room and watch a movie. It’s more uncle/nephew time than coach/player. It feels good to have him here with me on this journey.
By the time I leave his room, it’s about five minutes before curfew. I ease open the door of the room I share with Jordan and freeze when I hear more than one voice.
“It’s just more of the same. I’m sorry for unloading on you again. I know it puts you in a tough spot. You’ve been such a great friend.” Mackenzie’s voice echoes in the room.
“I’m not going anywhere, Mack. I just can’t stand watching him hurt you all the time. You deserve better. You deserve the best.” Jordan is consoling her. This is not a conversation I should be listening to.
“I know you’re right. I wish I could go back and do it all differently.” I hear her sniffle, and then it is silent.
Sounds like a good time to walk in, so I do, trying to be a little loud so they know they’re not alone.
As I round the corner, I see Jordan wrapping her in a hug, resting his chin on the top of her head.
It is clearly a gesture that looks like it means a lot more than just friendship.
He sees me and immediately pulls away from her, and Mack jumps, realizing I’m in here with them.
“Oh, hey Riggs. I was just wishing Jordan good luck for the game on Saturday. So good luck to both of you. I’ll be there to cheer y’all on. Good night.” She says that so fast, then practically sprints out of the room.
I stare after her for a moment, then turn my eyes back on my closest friend. “What was that?” My eyebrows are practically in my hairline, and he looks back at me like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
He blows out a giant breath and puts his hands on top of his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It’s just…complicated. Please don’t say anything to Reagan. I don’t want her involved. She just needed to talk to someone about Trey, and I guess I’m the chosen one.”
“Does she always confide in you about her relationship with him? That seems like a lot to take on, J.”
“It’s just how we’ve always been. And probably always will be.” Something in his tone has me uncertain. Jordan may be friends with Mack, but I think it might be more than that, deep down.
I take the opportunity to change the subject. We focus on our next opponent, knowing it will be a tougher game than the one we just played today.
It’s Sunday night, and we are in a fight with Texas. The winner moves on to the next round. It’s been a tight game throughout, and we are getting down to the wire.
“Alright, 15, hit these free throws. You got this, baby!” Carter comes up beside me, encouraging me before I step to the free throw line.
We are tied with five seconds left in the game. Texas has brought their best tonight, and we have struggled defensively against their speed. I have two free throws to make to put us up, and then we have to get one more stop.
The referee throws me the ball.
I do three dribbles and spin the ball in my hands before pausing and shooting it.
Swish. It goes through.
Up one.
I repeat my routine for the second shot.
Swish.
Up two.
With neither team having any time-outs remaining, we spread out to cover the whole court and prepare for Texas's inbound.
After their player struggles to find someone to throw it to, he lobs it toward half-court, and all I can do is turn around and run toward it.
Williams is right there, and he jumps in front of the opposing player, grabbing the ball. Game. Over.
Our fans go insane as he throws the ball in the air in celebration.
We all run over to him, screaming and jumping around.
The phrase “survive and advance” has never hit harder than right at this moment.
We are moving on. Sweet sixteen next weekend, and hopefully, we punch our ticket to the Final Four that Sunday.
One step closer to our goal. Thank you, Dad.
Grabbing Jake, I hug my coach to let him know how much it means to be on his team. “He is proud of you, nephew,” Jake whispers to me, and a little wave of grief flows over me, but as soon as it hits, it turns into a happy reminder of Dad and all he did for my basketball career.