Leo had been the head coach of Westbrook High School for exactly four months, and he still couldn't sleep the night before a match.
The alarm clock on his nightstand read 2:47 AM. His wife—Maya had convinced him to finally update his ancient phone—buzzed with a text from Derek, his junior captain: “Coach. Can't sleep.”
Leo typed back: “Neither can I.”
Derek: “What do you do?”
Leo: “I visualize. Every serve. Every set. Every kill. I play the match in my head until I know every possible outcome.”
Derek: “Does it work?”
Leo: “Sometimes. Other times, I just lie here and worry.”
Derek: “That's not helpful.”
Leo: “That's coaching.”
He put the phone down and stared at the ceiling. The conference semifinal was tomorrow. Westbrook versus Northwood Prep—the same private school he'd faced in
