“Sure you will,” Dylan countered, taking the young woman?s hand. “You?ve only got a sprain, not a tear. Didn?t the Doc tell you that?”
“Don?t remember.”
Dylan looked over at Norton, who nodded.
“You?re gonna be fine, Angela,” the coach said. “A brace, crutches, some PT, and before you know it, you?ll be sinking threes again just like you did tonight.”
Big, round, innocent eyes met hers, hope shining in them. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
“Gosh, Coach Goddess, you?re real swell. And pretty too.” Tippens giggled and tried to lift her arms again. It was a lost cause, and after a final squeeze of her hand, Dylan backed away, gesturing for Norton to follow her back to the corner.
“What?s up?” the doc asked.
“Dobbins. She?s the only one we have who can play her position, and she?s been suffering back spasms since the Pistol?s game. Do whatever you need to do for her, but make sure she can play tomorrow night.”
“I don?t know, D. She?s been in a lot of pain?.”
“Just do it.”
Norton blinked, then nodded. “I?ll see what I can do,” she said tightly.
“Good.”
“You can let the others in to see her for a couple minutes if you want,” Norton called out to Dylan?s retreating back. She received a brisk nod in response as the coach hit the door and disappeared back into the waiting room.
A minute later, a flood of players entered the room, talking excitedly.
Back in the now empty waiting room, Dylan dug her cellphone from her pocket, flipped it open, and punched a button with her thumb. She held the phone to her ear until the line was answered by a sleepy, annoying voice. “Manny? We need to talk. Now.”
“And that was the buzzer, Lori, bringing to close a, well, I guess you would have to call it ?inspiring? half of basketball.”
“Inspiring indeed, Ted. With the Badgers? great defensive shot blocker and outside threat Angela Tippens out with an injured knee, Lola Dobbins has been doing her best to fit in, but you could tell several times out there that her back was giving her a lot of trouble. Frankly, I?m surprised Coach Lambert kept her in the entire half.”
“Well, Lori, it?s not that surprising when you look at their roster and see that there really isn?t anybody to replace her with. Thorne?s been having trouble with bursitis in her shooting arm, and I don?t think Dylan is comfortable going up against a team as all-around tall as the Lightning with three women in there under 5?6”. Especially with Cat Hodges, their outstanding point guard and court general, hobbled with that sore knee.”
“Very true. What is surprising, I think, is that the Badgers, the little team that could, has actually managed to make somewhat of a game of it out there today. Yes, they?re losing by fifteen at the half, but they?ve overcome worse deficits, and in the last game, managed to win despite behind eleven at the half.”
“I guess we?ll just have to wait and see what tricks Coach Lambert can pull out of her sleeve this week, Ted, because things the way they are, I don?t think we?re in for a repeat of that last game.”
“Understood, Lori. Well, folks, stay tuned for the second half of what promises to be a gutsy performance by the Birmingham Badgers against the perennial favorites, the Louisiana Lightning. And we?ll be back after this commercial from Maxi-Fresh.”
“I?ll be fine, Coach!” Lola Dobbins yelled from the depths of the whirlpool into which she?d been ensconced the very second the buzzer rang ending the half. “Just a little more of this hot water and a good massage, and maybe a shot, and I?ll be good to go. I can feel the muscles relaxing already!”
“Just relax in there, Dobbins,” a harried Norton said, buzzing past Dylan with a soft brace and liniment in her hand for Cat?s swollen knee. “I?ll be back in a minute.”
“I swear, Coach, I?m feeling better. Honest.” Dobbins turned pleading eyes to Dylan. “Please. Let me play. I can do it.”
Giving her player the best smile she could offer, Dylan rapped her knuckles on the whirlpool rail and said, “We?ll see.”
Leaving the relative quiet of the whirlpool/treatment room, Dylan made her way back into the organized chaos of the locker-room, making a beeline directly for the bench where Cat was being tended to. Coming down to one knee, she put a hand on her lover?s thigh, not caring what anyone saw, or thought, and met Cat?s eyes directly. “The truth.”
“It hurts like hell. But?I can play on it. I?ve had worse knee strains before, and the Doc has already taken my picture and pronounced me fit, right?”
Norton grimaced even as she nodded. “It goes against my utopian world recommendations, but?right.”
Dylan sighed, worrying at her lower lip, comforted slightly when Cat reached down and covered her hand with her own. “How?s Dobbins?” she asked softly.
“Not good,” Dylan replied, not needing Kelly?s assessment of the situation. “She?s hurting bad, and I don?t think all the backrubs and whirlpool baths in the world are going to stop that.”
“I?m sorry, D,” Norton said, finishing up with Cat?s knee and giving it a light pat. “I did the best I could.”
“I know, Kelly, and I thank you for it. It just wasn?t in the cards, I guess.”
“You could always put Thorne in and shift Chane to small forward,” Cat hazarded, hating the bleak look in her lover?s striking eyes. “She?s played that position before, you know.” Cat frowned when the look didn?t disappear. A cold feeling of dread spread its way through her belly and limbs, making her shiver. “Dylan? You?re?you?re not thinking of forfeiting, are you?” The slight shift of color in Dylan?s eyes told Cat all she needed do know. Lifting her hand, she clamped it on her lover?s shoulder. “Dylan, no. Please. Don?t give up, not when we?ve gotten this far. Even if we wind up losing by thirty points, it won?t be because we didn?t try our damndest out there. Please, let us have that chance. Don?t quit. Don?t make us quit. Please?”
Still worrying her lower lip, Dylan dropped her eyes, gently released Cat?s grip on her shoulder, and stood. Her gaze scanned the rest of the players, who had all overheard the conversation, soft-voiced as it was, and looked back at her with desperate, pleading eyes. She allowed those looks, those emotions, to penetrate for one intense moment, then hardened her heart, and let her face show that. “Caulley,” she called to the assistant coach who was leaning against a locker, arms folded, “come with me.”
As soon as the door closed behind them, the sense of deflation and disappointment filled the air like a pall. The players slumped in their seats; several had tears in their eyes.
“MotherFUCK!!” Chane shouted, pounding the locker with her fist. “I can?t believe she up and fucking quit on us. What the fuck?!?”
The locker room door opened again, this time admitting an official. “Five minutes, guys. Time to get out there and warm up.”
“Why should we bother?” Chane asked after he left. “It?s not like we?re gonna be warming up for anything. Looking like goddamned fools standin? around there till they tell us to go home. Screw that. I?m gettin? a shower and gettin? the fuck outta here.”
“Chane, wait.” Taking in a deep breath, Cat stood, wincing only slightly as she put weight back on her knee. “If nothing else, we are professionals. Face it. No one expected us to make it even half this far, right? But we did it. We showed them all what we could do.” She shrugged. “We can?t help it that Angela?s knee got busted, or that Dobbsie?s got a bum back. Those things happened because we played harder, smarter, and better than anyone ever thought we could. Even if we forfeit, we have a right to be out there, in front of that crowd, not slinking off like thieves.” She met each player?s eyes, letting them see the strength of her convictions, the passion in her heart for the game she so loved. “We always won with dignity and grace. Let?s show this crowd that we can lose the same way, ok?”