The Franchise

"Thank you," she said simply. She didn't seem to mind being held. Our eyes gazed into each other's inner cores for another long moment. "You spilled your beer," she pointed out softly.

"Oops," I agreed, and then we went right back to kissing. I was twenty feet from the sound system but I couldn't tell you a single song the band played.

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Two days before my first minicamp, my dad took me aside to tell me that he had signed a free agent point guard. That night I was laying on the floor of Kelly's apartment as she rubbed my back and tried to console me. Although the festival had ended, Kelly and I were spending pretty much all of our free time together anyway. "I don't know why dad went and signed Leroy Jackson," I whined. "Leroy is what, 33? 34? He was all-star--back when I was inhigh school. He's totally washed up now. But Coach Russell will almost certainly start Jackson ahead of me because of his experience, at least at the start of the season. They must not think I can really run this team."

"Did your dad offer any explanation?" she asked sympathetically.

"He wanted me to have a mentor. He said I'm not going to learn to be a star in this league learning from Casey McKutcheon, and he's right about that. Then he started talking about not wanting to push too much responsibility on me too soon, because he's seen guys get ruined that way. I just don't think that would happen."

"Have you talked to Coach?" Her fingers were as soothing as her voice.

"He talked to me. He said that Leroy can still play but not for 48 minutes a game anymore. He says he wants us to each play 20-25, depending on who's better on a given night. Going into camp Jackson will start, although that can change depending on how fast I pick up the system."

"That doesn't sound to me like they don't believe in you. It sounds to me like they want to make sure you succeed," she soothed.

"I know, I know. My dad wouldn't have spent a first-round pick on me if he didn't believe in me," I moaned.

"Exactly," she agreed.

"I just... I just think that I'm already better than a has-been like Jackson! It's just a waste of money to bring him in!"

"Don't you think if that's true, you'll win the job in camp?"

I shrugged. "Maybe."

"Aren't you going to need a backup anyway?"

"Yeah, but we don't need three point guards on the roster!"

"Maybe your dad means to cut Casey McKutcheon?"

"I suppose... but he has another year left on his deal... he'd be eating that salary. The Jammers can't afford to pay people to not play."

Kelly slid over by my side and put her arm around me. I turned to face her. "Maybe this is a special circumstance," she soothed. Then our lips met and we kissed until I felt better.

Kelly turned out to be right. When Jackson arrived in camp, McKutcheon was put on waivers. The first thing Jackson did was come up to me and shake my hand. "Mr. Rutherford, I'm Leroy Jackson. Nice to meet you. I want you to know that I know who you are and what you are, because from now on, I'm not going to call you Mr. Rutherford, or even Davis or Dave. From now on, you're just 'rook.' I was brought here for one reason--to teach you how to play the point in this league. I saw you play some in college--you were pretty good. You're gonna learn that ain't gonna be good enough in the Association, and it's my job to see that you do. So from now on, no more special treatment. You're just a rook, I'm gonna treat you like every other rook, and I'm gonna encourage the rest of the team to do the same. If you don't like it, you can make some calls and run me out of town if you like, I don't care, I'm gettin' paid anyway. But if you want to LEARN, then you need to respect the TEACHER."

I was taken aback, but I also respected his attitude. "Yes, sir. I'd actually rather not be treated any different from anyone else, sir!"

Leroy patted my shoulder with a big, white-toothed grin. "Ya know rook, you might be all right. I like your attitude. You don't have to call me sir; Teach will be just fine, 'cuz I'm here to school you! But now that we've that straight," he threw his duffel bag on the bench where I was standing, "you can start by unpackin' my bag, rook!"

And so I did. I sensed that some of my teammates were watching with interest, especially the other rookies. My old high school coach always said that leading by example was more effective than leading with words, and that's what I was doing. I wanted us to be a team, not Mr. Rutherford and his lackeys. And Leroy had established himself as a team leader right off the bat.

Practice started with a little five-on-five, starters and reserves mixed. I matched up on Leroy of course. They got the ball first; he was eyeing me the whole time. He made quick move, but I matched it; he tried to spin, but I tapped the ball out of bounds. He nodded. "Not bad, rook. Back in the day I'd have had you, but not anymore. Not a bad start, though." I thought so, too. Then on the inbound, he took the pass and broke for the basket. I followed, but hadn't sensed that the center was setting a pick on me, and he rubbed off me off for an easy give-and-go-layup. He was jawing on the way down the court, "lesson number one rook-- you gots to play SMART, too." I noticed Coach Russell smiling to himself on the sidelines; Leroy was doing his work for him, and it was better this way. So I of course tried to return the favor. I tried the same double-fake-spin move that had been almost unstoppable in college--only to find myself with nothing but air. Leroy had reacted to the spin and picked my pocket and passed the ball to a streaking forward for a fast-break slam. Leroy shook his finger at me going tsk-tsk with his tongue. "That may work in college, but it ain't gonna work here, boy. Leave the double-spin move stuff for when you're playing one-on-one; you'll get your pocket picked every time at this level."

I was fuming now, not at Leroy's taunting but in frustration at my own failure. I wanted to badly to show him up, and instead he was making me lookbad. It seemed my dad had been right to bring in someone to mentor me--I could just imagine the boos raining down from the stands had this been the way my first pro game started. So the next few times down the court, I didn't try to score, I just ran the offense, and we matched them basket for basket. But then we made a mistake; I was deep in the corner, shot clock winding down, when the forward that was supposed to be my outlet went to the three-point line on the far side instead behind me. I was hung out to dry, and Leroy had me blanketed. With no time to wait for another option to open up, I took a step to the inside, just to get him moving, then cross-over and drove hard to his inside. He reacted, but I had the step I needed. I drove the lane; the center moved out to cut me off. I rose up for the J, hitting the iron front, back and front again before dropping through. I put my head down and raced back on defense, but Leroy slapped me on the back. "That's the way rook. None of that fancy shit... power is the way to go, baby! Now, if you were an all star, you'd take that drive one step deeper and draw the foul too--but you'd better work on your upper body strength, or you won't be able to make that shot fall after contact..." It was a good lesson to learn; I dedicated myself to bulking up before the next camp.

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By late summer, Kelly and I were enough of an item that I invited her up to my grandfather's cottage for a big family weekend. "Are you working this weekend? Or might you be able to get away for a few days?"

"It's volleyball camp this week, but it will be over by 3:00 on Friday. Why?"

"My grandfather has this beach house; I've been going there since I was a baby. Well, this weekend is my parents' 25th anniversary..."

"Oh, how sweet," she interjected.

"Yeah," I agreed, "but being who they are, they preferred to celebrate it with a big group of friends and family up at the beach house rather than a fancy party. My brother and sisters will be there, some of my uncles and cousins, all kinds of people. We're all invited to bring a guest, so I was really hoping you'd came along. I know it might sound scary because you don't know any of these people, but you won't be the only one meeting folks for the first time. And gender separation will be strictly enforced for unmarried couples, so you don't need to worry about anything like that. In fact, my sister Jen is bringing her boyfriend Matt, and it would be perfect if you could share a tent with her and I'd share one with Matt." She was a bit overwhelmed, but listening. "It'll be a blast, I promise you that. Bonfire at night, lying on the beach or using the boat during the day, and non-stop basketball."

"Non-stop basketball?"

I nodded. "We're Rutherfords! We live and breathe basketball! There's a half-court in back of the place, and since my great-grandfather's time it's been tradition to have tournaments and stuff out there. You can bet my mom will be out on the court, taking no prisoners. And if you don't like to play, you can sit on sidelines, watching and drinking! I don't know which is more fun!"

"Wow... that does sound like fun... But I don't even know your sister. Is she going to want us to sneak a switch and be with her boyfriend in the tent?"

"My sister will be fine with it," I said confidently. "I'm not so sure about Matt. I was kind of hoping you could help me make sure it DIDN'T happen. Oh I don't care if they sleep together, just not at the cottage. It's still grandpa's, and he doesn't allow unmarried couples to sleep together. Kind of funny, because I guess mygreat -grandfather didn't have a problem with it—but whatever. I just don't want something stupid to ruin my parents' weekend."

Friday night I was driving up to my grandfather's beach house in my old beater sedan with Kelly, who asking me questions about the family. "My oldest sister is Jenny," I began. She's going to be a junior next year, and plays volleyball at State. She's named in honor of my Mom's best friend. Then there's Stanley, who's also going to State starting in Fall. They say he's named after a former Jammers player. Then there's Mira, who's going to be a sophomore in high school. Mom and Dad never explained where Mira's name came from, but my grandma once whispered that it was short for miracle, since she was conceived in spite of birth control, after they thought they were done having kids."

"Do Stanley and Mira play basketball too?"

"Stanley played in high school, but like my dad he wasn't good enough to get a scholarship. He thought seriously about going to a smaller school and playing D-3, but decided to go to state. I know he hopes to walk-on, but unless he suddenly grows that's not going to happen. And poor Mira has given up on sports altogether already; dance is her thing."

"It must be rough for her," Kelly mused.

"It's a good thing that she's found something for herself that the rest of us didn't do. But don't feel too badly for Mira," I added.

"Why not?"

"Because she's probably the most attractive one in the family. If she grows and other inch or two, and there's a good chance she will, she'll be a model for sure."

Shortly after that we pulled up to the beach house grounds. There were already a dozen cars crammed along the side of the road, with more to come. Mom and Dad came out as we were grabbing things from the trunk to see if they could lend a hand. I had a tent; my sister Jenny and her boyfriend Matt were already set up. With lots of helping hands the tent was set up in no time and Matt brought his stuff in. As I expected, Matt kind of hinted that maybe we should change tentmates during the night, at least for a while. I could honestly say that my girlfriend was very Catholic and didn't approve of that sort of thing. Knowing my rep, he looked at me like I was from Mars, but didn't push the issue. A similar conversation must have happened next door, because during dinner Jenny sidled up to me and asked me if I was really dating a virgin. "So far as I know," I replied.

Saturday morning the basketball court was in use the moment it was light. Just in my family, we would get some pretty competitive games playing me, Mira and Stanley against Jen, Mom, and Dad. But with all the extended relations and guests up for the weekend, we played full teams with all sorts of combinations of players. I stopped to get some breakfast before heading out to play. I sat next to Kelly and asked how it was sharing a tent with Jenny; she said it was fine, but confirmed that there had been talking about switching partners. "Matt, too. I told him you were religious and didn't believe in that sort of thing. He didn't seem to believe that you were a virgin."

"I'm not, technically," she said distractedly, "but I'm as close to it as you can possibly get." That was a very interesting piece of information, but something in her eyes told me that as much as I wanted an explanation, it was better just to leave that as it was.

After breakfast Kelly got in on one of the basketball games, and I give her credit for trying because Matt was too chicken. She was athletic, but she just wasn't used to handling a basketball and didn't have a mature shot, and in this crowd that just didn't cut it. Even with me on her team we couldn't stop Mom's team's winning streak; they just triple-teamed me if I touched the ball, daring the rest of my team to beat them, and they couldn't. Afterwards Kelly and my sister Mira took up positions one and two as cheerleaders, though.

After lunch, Jenny got the volleyball started. She's OK at hoops, but she rules the family at volleyball. She plays D-1 while the rest of us play volleyball, well, like basketball players. Still, it is fun to play in the sand down at the beach for a change of pace. That's where Kelly surprised me by playing Jenny to dead even. Like my mom Jenny's not especially tall (she's a libero). She generally only gets to play attacker when we play for fun, and the rest of us don't play enough to front her effectively. Kelly couldn't jump as high but was taller, and always seemed to be in the right place for the block. She also knew how to hit, especially on a sand court with inexperienced blockers. I found it pretty funny that with an athletic family and all these guys around, the two best players on the court were two girls, and one wasn't even related.

I played volleyball with them for maybe an hour. It was fun, but when Stanley started shootin' off his mouth, I had to go take him behind the woodshed (i.e. the basketball court) and put him in his place. Since we play king of the mountain, I was out on the court for quite a while. Next thing I knew it was like 5:00, and I hadn't seen Kelly in hours. I gave up the court and went to find her.

I walked around to the other side of the house and soon found out why I hadn't seen her. The volleyball court had evolved into a game of 2-on-6, with Kelly and Jenny playing the pair and kicking the butt of every team of six's that took them on. A gallery had formed on the beach to watch, many of them unrelated people from neighboring cottages, although I'm not sure how much of their interest was in the quality of play. Kelly's hot, and while she's my sister I can look at Jenny objectively enough to know that she's got a great body too. The two of them were looking MIGHTY impressive out there. They were both wearing string bikinis, hair in ponytails, and glistening with sweat. They both had lean legs, Kelly's being longer. They both had sweet, flat bellies; Jenny had the more pronounced definition in her abs, but Kelly had a bigger bust. If only their swimsuits had matched, they absolutely would have looked like they belonged on the pro beach tour.

I sat and admired them for a while, until Mom called out from the house that people should start getting washed up for dinner. The crowd started to wander away as the game ended; Jenny and Kelly came right by me, since I happened to be near their towels. "Wow... you girls looked great out there," I commended.

"Thanks," Kelly said, taking her towel and rubbing sweat and sand from her body. "I used to be pretty good in high school. If I were taller, maybe I could have played college ball."

"Oh, right... you guys played pretty well, too," I joked. Kelly punched me in the arm playfully; Jenny rolled her eyes and started walking toward the house. "Hey, don't get mad at me. YOU were the ones attracting the audience!"

Kelly ignored that. She kept rubbing, but the sand was like ingrained from all the diving she had done. "Man... I can't get this sand off!"

"I could help..." I suggested.

"Eww. I'm all sweaty and sandy."

"That's a chance I'll just have to take."

She gave me a quick kiss. "No thanks, but I'd rather jump in the shower."

"Hey, I could help with that, too."

She threw her sandy towel at my face, creating a cloud of dust. "Keep dreaming," she teased and headed for the shower.

That night was the formal celebration for the anniversary. My uncle cooked up a cow's worth of steaks for dinner, and everyone listened to stories about mom and dad's lives together. There was a cake, but indicative of my family more than half went uneaten, while the lowfat frozen yogurt meant to go on top was gone in no time. Kelly seemed quiet and pensive throughout, although interested by the stories; I imagined she felt a bit out of sorts barely knowing any of these people. She whispered to me she was going to go for a walk; I nodded, asking "do you want me to come with you?"

"No, that's OK, I'll be fine. This is your family, you should stay here and be with them."

"OK," I said with some hesitation. Something in her eyes struck me as odd. When she didn't come back after 45 minutes, I went out looking for her. It was a clear night with an almost full moon, and the reflections on the water made it easy to see even at night. I saw a figure sitting in the sand near the water's edge a few hundred yards off to the right, so I headed that way. As I approached, the figure stood up and brushed sand off of herself. It was her. She was wearing flip-flops, her short-shorts and a hoodie now covering her bikini top. "Hey," I said friendly-like as I approached.

"Hey," she said. "Why did you come looking for me? Were you afraid I'd get lost?"

"No." I came up to her and wrapped my arms loosely around her waist. She wrapped her loosely around my neck. We kissed briefly, then I added "I just didn't like the look in your eyes when you left."

She kind of frowned, then looked back out over her right shoulder at the water. "I've just been sitting here, thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"A lot of things. I've very confused about a lot of things."

"Like what?" I pressed. "Are you not having a good time?"

"No, I'm having a great time," she protested, turning her head to face me. "That's part of what's confusing me."

"I don't understand."

"No... you don't..." she said distantly, looking back out at the water again. I was silent, listening. It felt a bit awkward as the minutes dragged, but I just stood there holding her and waiting. Finally she let out a big sigh. "It's not about you, or anything you've done, it's about me... well, it kind ofis about you... I'm not making any sense..."

"I'm listening," I said softly.

"That's exactly what I mean!" she exclaimed with intensity that caught me by surprise. Turning to me, she said "I guess I'm just questioning a lot of things that I thought I knew. A lot of things... aren't the way I thought they would be..." I stood quietly hoping she would continue. "I heard all the stories about you and all those women. I thought I knew what you would be like based on that—and I was wrong. I would have never thought you were so good with kids; I would have never thought you would still be interested in me if I wouldn't sleep with you; I would have never thought you'd be so attentive and such a good listener. You come from this wealth family, with a basketball team and a beautiful beach house—you're supposed to be snooty and condescending. Instead, you've got the nicest family I've ever met!"