“Come on!” Dell clapped and kept his hands clasped. The rest of the bench was dead quiet.
The second Altshuler put pressure on his left foot, he cried out in pain.
“Shit,” Dell said.
Cliff’s thought exactly.
Murmurs from the crowd grew louder. The announcer came on to narrate the scene. A doctor ran onto the court. Through the forest of legs, Cliff caught the doctor examining his ankle.
“Was he checked that hard?” Dell stood up on his tiptoes to get a better look. His question was rhetorical, solely meant to fill up space in these uncertain times.
Cliff could hear Altshuler telling Coach and the doctor he was fine. He tried to stand again and collapsed against Coach.
A stretcher bolted onto the court pushed by two medics. Cliff’s throat went dry as even more adrenaline circulated in his veins.
Dell and Cliff looked at each other with nothing to say. They knew where this was going. Dell gave him a knowing nod.
“You’re up.”
24
BRENNAN
The stretcher wheeled the injured player off the court.
“Oh shit,” Brennan said.
“You took the words out of my mouth.” Mr. Warner shook his head trying to make sense of the drama below. Brennan had a pang of regret for cursing in front of them.
Cliff jogged onto the court. Goosebumps prickled across Brennan’s skin as the crowd reacted.
“Cliff’s in,” Mr. Warner said in shock, a smile lifting his lips. “My boy’s going to play.”
Brennan could feel the weight of the moment - and the pressure.
The crowd cheered in befuddled support, giving Cliff a rousing round of applause that was steeped in hesitation.
Cliff had on his game face, but Brennan saw the nervousness in his eyes, the real Cliff behind the bravado. He huddled with his teammates.
“Let’s go, Cliff!” Mr. Warner yelled out.
“Forty-three, we love you!” Mrs. Warner cheered.
Brennan wanted to shout out “Go Clifford,” but a packed arena was not the place for inside jokes.
The announcer said that Canadensis was hit with a personal technical foul, and Browerton would get two foul shots. The players got into two lines on the court, with Cliff at the end to shoot. He sank both of them with ease, a light smile crossing his lips.
That’s my boy.
Browerton had control of the ball. Cliff dribbled down the court, surveying the scene in front of him. Brennan got to watch him in action. He thought back to all of their lessons together where Cliff revealed his strategies.Watch their feet, not their eyes. Make decisive decisions every second.
As if a switch was turned on inside him, Cliff pivoted around a Canadensis player, then another, passing it to a teammate in the corner who scored a layup. The crowd cheered, this time with more confidence.
With each play, Cliff proved that he belonged on that court, moving with swift, assured feet that were dancing his own private ballet. He reminded Brennan of the hard work necessary in creation. The strategy, the sweat, the thinking. He could see everything on Cliff’s face. Even though he was deep in the closet, he was showing the whole arena who he was.
The whole team seemed to gel together in a way they hadn’t with the other point guard. Brennan couldn’t really put his finger on it since this was only his second basketball game, but they felt more like a team. Brennan got chills as the Whitetails scored point after point and closed the gap with Canadensis. Everything he admired about Cliff was on display: how he cared about his teammates, how he cared about his work, his focus, his dedication. Brennan wanted him to have everything. He wanted to make him happy.
Fuck, I am in love with you, aren’t I?
