Balls

I spun around as fast as my exhausted state could possibly allow, but a second too late. Before I knew it, it smacked me right in the face, in the middle of my forehead. I staggered before succumbing to the shock and shooting pain and fell hard on my back, so hard was the blow.

“Excellent Mark, just great. EYES ON THE BALL, DON’T DAYDREAM!,” came the familiar and endearing bark of my oh-so-beloved coach.

“Ya, do that more, we really need it. Should nail a lot of games this season,” he sneered with gusto.

I was pissed. Like, royally, beyond anything you could comprehend – and it wasn’t from the ball. Well ok, mostly not from it. I scowled at my gym teacher and felt nothing but disgust. Guy was a douchebag of the highest order. If ever you asked me to give you an example of the most uninspiring team-leader I ever knew, he’d be my top pick. I pictured myself just slicing off that bulging chin, that overhanging belly, and shoving it into his fu……….

“Hey, hey hero! Come here!” his voice cracked again, pulling me out of my momentary withdrawal. It was remarkable I could hear anyone or anything in my present mood, seeing nothing but red at the time.

“What?!” I screamed back, out of anger but also from being worn out after more than two hours of brutal training.

“Come here. Hey, I said come here dammit!” he barked again, making a ‘come-here’ palm gesture as he did.

I looked around at the court and my teammates, and then started moving towards him. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being able to push me around, I took my own sweet time to saunter over. That did not make him any happier.

“Listen hero, ditch the attitude, aannh? Lose it, or leave it at home before you get here. Get me? You hear me, right?” he said, constantly moving his hand around while speaking, as if it would drive the message home. Half the reason for my intense dislike of him came from all that goddamn gesturing.

“What’re you…” I began, but was immediately cut off.

“No no, don’t say anything. Just do as I tell you. I’m experienced, I know better. Keep your eyes on the ball and don’t mess up again,” he said.

Eyes on the ball? Eyes on the ball?! The insufferable a****** seemed to conveniently forget all the points I’d scored for him just yesterday. So what if I hadn’t reacted in time just now? It was only my first error in, like, months. And I’d been clean during the whole of training, until that one moment. Nazir had been screwing up since the day’s session began and he hadn’t said anything to him.

“Yo, what’s your problem? What do you mean don’t screw up? I got us out in the second half didn’t I?” I challenged.

“And what, you think that’s enough to give you a pass for anything?”

“It’s just one small mistake. And what about last week, huh? Or anytime before that? Been bringing in the numbers, haven’t I?” I shot back.

“Oh, so you’re special then. You’re better than anyone here.”

By now, some of the other guys had stopped their shooting and dribbling and were gathering around at the periphery of the shooting mark to watch. There were still enough of them going on with their practice at the other end of the court, or at least trying to, so it wasn’t too awkward. Not that I cared at this point.

“I didn’t say that, and no way would I think that. If I did, you think I’d be staying back after six hours of class for practice I didn’t need?”

“Listen, I don’t care what you did or what you plan to do. Just shutup and follow instructions. Get back on the court and do that play again properly. Go, go. Now.”

“Hey a******, I don’t see you saying anything to Nazir or Jones about their form. What you getting all over me for?!” I said as I started moving towards the court, finally losing all that pent-up, but hitherto well-managed, restraint.

At this point, I was positive that he would kill me. I think he actually could if he tried, or deal some serious damage at least. I was his height but he was wider than me. And despite his overt lethargy, I knew he wasn’t devoid of strength. He could have strangled me if he wanted to then and there, no problem. With the maddest glare I’ve seen on any face, he advanced slowly towards me.

“What? What……...did you say?” he asked in almost a whisper, bobbing his head up as he said so.

I didn’t recoil. The damage was done. I know I said that he could clobber me, but I wasn’t scared. Let him do what he wanted, like I wouldn’t do something back. I was way beyond caring and firmly stood my ground.

“I think you heard me. You really want me to repeat it again, in front of everyone?” I asked, with a smirk of satisfaction.

It seems weird to think about, and even more so considering the severity of the confrontation at the time, but I felt like there was a free-floating flow of words between us at the time, like an invisible bridge linking our exchange. It was like my responses were already tailor-made to his and were ready even before words reached his mouth, and vice-versa.

He looked like he was struggling to breathe and couldn’t draw the words out of his mouth. Perhaps no one had spoken to him like that before. Not a single student when he threw verbal barbs at them or a member of the faculty when he talked down to them.

“You………alright, go. Give me fifty rounds.”

“What the hell for?”

“Give me fifty rounds!”

“Why?" 

That was his breaking point. I’d gone too far. He’d finally had it and started walking towards me, but I didn’t wait. With a parting “f****** a******” under my breath and a smirk, I charged up and started running. Felt good. Nice day.