Tyler
Coach put me in charge of practice that day.
Well, not full practice—just running the bench players through plays for Friday while he handled stuff at Redwood.
Still counted.
We ditched lunch for the gym once more and went straight to business.
And in no time, we were all locked in—the sharp squeak of sneakers on polished wood, the thud of basketball hitting the floor, the guys laughing or calling out when something clicked.
You know, that ease that comes with being in the one place that shuts everything else up.
And for the first twenty minutes, it worked.
“Again,” I said, tossing the ball to one of the second-string guys. “You hesitate like that during a game, you’re done before you even start.”
He nodded quickly, already out of breath.
And even though I knew I sounded
