Chapter 18
Riley
Reid’s words stay with me the rest of the day yesterday and into today.
I can’t say they haven’t affected me, but I’m trying not to think about it as I head into the gymnasium now.
I’ve known of Coach Parella for the last few years.
I know she’s hard. She’s been known to throw clipboards during games when she gets mad.
She’s intense and driven, but she’s also the most winning coach in women’s NCAA division one basketball.
I’ve dreamed about this day for a really long time, and now it’s finally here.
I’m equal parts excited and terrified. Another girl walks in at the same time and holds the door for me.
“Thanks.” There’s something about her that gives the same vibes I’m sure I’m giving off. “Freshman?” I ask.
She glances at me. “Yes. You?”
“Same. Are you as terrified as I am?” I ask.
She laughs. “Yes.”
“I’m Riley.”
She smiles. “I’m Star. My mom was in her wild and free era when she named me.”
“I like it,” I tell her.
“Yeah, well, nothing like showing up to try out for the women’s basketball team with a name like Star.”
I feel her pain. “Maybe it will work in your favor.”
She looks over at me. “Or I’ll never live it down.”
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to live up to your name.”
She gives me a full smile. “All right then.” We make our way over to the door that leads into the gym. She stops at the door. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
She nods. “Let’s do this.”
She opens the door, and we head inside. There are several girls already shooting around.
Other girls are stretching, and more are in various stages of getting ready.
I lead the way over to the area where everybody has dropped their bags.
It doesn’t escape my notice that there’s a group of guys shooting around at the other end of the court.
They would be part of the infamous practice squad.
FMU has used a male practice squad for the girls’ team to practice against for over thirty years.
It doesn’t scare me all that much because I’m used to playing with guys, but it does add to my nervousness this morning.
I drop my bag against the wall and sit down to put on my sneakers and start stretching.
Star does the same next to me. We’re both quiet, taking it all in.
When I’ve finished stretching, I stand and wait for Star to finish.
“Want to go shoot around?” She nods and follows me over to the ball rack where we each grab a ball and head over to one of the side hoops that’s currently empty.
Two other girls have the same idea and join us.
I start my process of warming up. It's the same process I’ve had for the last several years.
I start up next to the hoop and use the backboard.
I work my way around the key, moving further out the more I get warmed up.
I don’t really pay attention to anyone else except to make sure I’m not going to get beamed in the head.
I feel pretty good and warmed up when a whistle blows.
I turn around and see Coach Parella in the middle of the court with several other people around her.
I’m assuming they’re part of her coaching staff.
I join the other girls in jogging over to her.
The guys stand off to the side, and the girls gather around.
I glance at the group and figure there are probably about thirty girls or more.
“Practice starts at 2 pm sharp. If you’re not on my court shooting around before then, you’re late.
” She looks around at us. “Most coaches don’t allow their teams to even touch a ball on the first day of practice or scrimmage during the first week of practice.
They focus on getting in shape and ballhandling.
” Her hard gaze moves around our group. “You will find I am not like other coaches. You will scrimmage today and every other day of practice. Your personal discipline is none of my concern. If you’re out of shape, you won’t play for me.
If your ballhandling or shooting is in the toilet; you won’t play for me.
That goes for the entire season. I don’t care if you’re a senior starter.
If you don’t play at the level I think you should be, you don’t play for me.
I don’t care if you’re here on a scholarship.
If you don’t play at the level I think you should, you won’t play for me.
I don’t care if you’ve played for me in the past, or if you’re a freshman.
If you’re not at the level I think you should be at, you don't play for me. Do we understand?”
“Yes, Coach.” Voices ring out around me.
I take it in quickly, so I know how to respond next time.
“All right. New players get off the court. Returning players take the court.” I move off the court and turn to get a look at the returning players.
It doesn’t escape my notice that the two girls that I had a run-in with after the game I played with Reid and his teammates are both on the court.
I do a quick head count and feel my stomach drop.
There are already twelve girls on the court.
That means if each of them make the team, there are only three spots available.
I look at the other girls standing on the sidelines.
There are probably about twenty of us. Coach Parella starts assigning the girls on the court to different positions.
I take it all in, wondering if it means anything that I’m here on a scholarship.
Obviously, to her, it means nothing. I wonder what happens if I don’t actually make the team, and my stomach tightens.
Does my scholarship get pulled? I force those negative thoughts away; they won’t help me now.
Coach Parella turns to the guys. “Five on. Be ready.” I notice there’s an adult male standing off to the side and realize he must be the coach for the practice squad.
Sure enough, he calls the players over and talks to them.
I focus on the girls on the court and watch everything closely.
Coach Parella calls out which girls will play and sends the other ones over to the side courts to shoot.
She doesn’t even look in the direction of the new recruits.
Star meets my gaze for just a moment, and a look passes between us.
“You girls,” she calls out to those of us standing on the side lines.
“Line up. If I point to you, you come in. I don’t want to know your name; I won’t need it if you don’t end up playing for me.
” We do as she says, and I focus on staying positive.
Coach Parella lines up with several men and women on the sidelines.
I don’t miss that nearly all of them have clipboards and pens.
Coach blows the whistle. “Let’s see what you can do.
” The other girls from previous years not playing are standing on the sidelines next to the coaching staff.
I watch the scrimmage, taking in every detail.
The first hour passes without any of us on the newbie line doing anything but standing there.
The second hour passes, and the first girl from our line is called in to play.
“You,” Coach Parella calls out. “Position?”
“Shooting guard,” the girl says confidently.
Coach Parella looks at the court. “Cassie. Come out.” The new girl jogs over to take Cassie’s spot, and the play starts up again.
The point guard of the guys’ practice team dribbles down to the other end of the court, and I watch the new girl.
The girls are on a zone defense right now.
They keep the guys out, and we get the ball.
The new girl doesn’t get to touch the ball before the guys get it and take it down to their end.
They score, and we get possession. Our point guard dribbles down and passes it to the new girl.
She’s obviously played before. She’s confident with the ball.
She passes it and cuts through the middle.
Our forward passes it to her, and she gets a shot close up.
She takes it, pump faking to throw off her defender.
It goes in, and then it’s down to the other end.
Coach Parella doesn’t praise her, doesn’t even say anything about it.
Play continues for a little while until Coach calls in the next girl, following the same process.
This girl is a power forward, so she takes the place of one of the girls from previous years.
Play starts up again. This process continues, and I glance at the clock every once in a while.
As five o’clock approaches, I realize I’m not even going to get to play today.
Sure enough, at five, Coach blows her whistle and waves us in.
I run quickly over to where she is, as do all the other players.
“That’s it for today. Five hundred shots before you leave. See you tomorrow.”
I swallow and watch her walk away before turning to Star. “Want to take turns rebounding for each other?”
“Yes,” she answers quickly.
We both grab a ball and head over to one of the side courts.
It’s going to take over two hours for both of us to get our five hundred shots in, so we get started quickly.
We keep count together, so we don’t forget.
We take turns, shooting for fifty and then rebounding for the other person for fifty.
Star’s a good shot, and it makes rebounding for her pretty easy.
By the time we both finish our five hundred shots, it’s almost eight o’clock.
I wipe the sweat from my face and walk over to put my ball away. “Thanks,” I tell Star.
“Thank you too.” We change our shoes and grab our bags and head out.
“You think we’ll get a chance to even play before the end of the week?” she asks as we step outside.
“I don’t know. All I know is you get about two minutes to prove yourself.”
“Yeah.”
One of the girls was yanked out after less than two minutes, and I felt for her.
Two minutes is really not a long time to make a call about a player, but Coach Parella told her she was cut.
My heart hurt for her, even while my own nerves ratcheted up.
I know Coach has been coaching a long time, and she knows exactly what she’s looking for; but still.
I felt so bad for the girl. She didn’t say a word as she grabbed her bag and left the gym.
I wonder if that’s going to be me in a day or two.
I push those negative thoughts aside. Somebody steps out of the shadows, but it doesn’t surprise me. I knew he was out here. “Hey, Reid.”
“Hey.”
I turn to Star. “Star, this is Reid, my,” I falter a moment. I was going to say mate but caught myself.
Reid drops a hand to my back. “Her boyfriend,” Reid says easily, rescuing me.
“Hi, Reid,” Star says, and I don’t miss the way her eyes have widened, letting me know she recognizes him.
“Nice to meet you, Star,” Reid says politely. I don’t fail to notice he doesn’t shake her hand. “How’d it go?” he asks.
“Great,” I respond. “If you consider standing on the sidelines the entire time great.”
He grimaces. “You didn’t get to play at all?”
“Nope, but we got to shoot five hundred shots,” I say flatly.
He nods, unsurprised. “Will you get to try tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.” I don’t say anything more, and Star takes a step back.
“Thanks for hanging with me, Riley.”
“Thanks. Same time, same place tomorrow?”
She grins. “Yep. See you then.”
“See you.”
Reid and I start the walk to the parking lot. “I don’t know, Reid. One of the girls got less than like two minutes to play before she was cut.”
He wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his side. “I’m all sweaty,” I warn him.
“Doesn’t bother me.” He kisses the top of my head. “You have nothing to worry about. You just have to get out on the court and play the way you know how to play. She’d be a fool not to choose you.”
I smile up at him. “Thanks, Reid. How’d your practice go?”
“Good.”