Hustle Vs Muscle

Chapter 22: Fear

I am nervous about coming to practice after what happened yesterday. But I still show up. I don't want anybody to think I let what happened yesterday get to me. "Hey, thanks." says Aiden. "That was really brave." "Oh come on." I say, feeling modest. "It was nothing." "I just wish Coach Anthony wouldn't be so mean." says Aiden. "I wish I could show him that everybody on this team is more than someone to take his anger out on."

"I wouldn't think like that if I were you." I say. I want to stand up to Coach Anthony, but not if it costs me my spot on the team that I've worked so hard to earn. Three years and a half of training, hard work, practice, opportunities and passion will all be for nothing if I lose my spot on the team. We're doing the same thing, practicing a play, running it and then scrimmaging.

Coach Anthony doesn't yell at anybody yet. But all the motivation and pressure to do my best has been replaced with fear of this grown man who can snap at any moment. He's like a time bomb that can explode and blow us all to bits at any moment, except you don't know when that moment is.

But he seems pretty frustrated. The play he gave us was complicated and we're kind of bombing it. "Perkins!" he says. "You need to pass it to the forward, not the center!" Then Christian decides to instigate it even further. "Ugggh." Christian says. "It's like drinking concentrated poison, working with her. I hate it." Coach Anthony pauses and turns to me. I know he's about to blow his top. I am sweating, not only from the physical activity, but with fear. My stomach hurts as if I had swallowed a hundred razor blades and they're cutting at my insides, as sharp as Coach Anthony's words.

"Christina." Coach Anthony says angrily, his voice filled with venom. "You've been selected to be on this team and you have to work with these boys. And he's telling me he hates it?!" Oh no. Here it comes. Tears of fear form in my eyes and I blink them back, biting my lip fearfully. "Did the boys hate working with D'amato?" Coach Anthony yells, less than a foot away from me. "May I use the restroom?" I say, my voice shaking. All I need is a moment to collect myself, calm down and come back ready to play. "NO!" he explodes. "You're not gonna run in there and cry and feel bad for yourself! No! You're sixteen! Grow up!"

I keep playing. My stomach hurts. I feel like I've swallowed a bottle of poisonous acid. Tears are in my eyes. I play fine during the scrimmage, but tears fill my eyes, almost blurring my vision and I wipe them away. "Are you ok?" asks Chase. "I'm fine." I am such a liar.
"It's ok." Chase says. "Don't listen to them." I start to feel a little lightheaded but I push through it. I am relieved when practice ends. I change into my regular clothes and run outside to the parking lot.