Road Trip (3 page)

There was a stunned silence, almost immediately followed by some chuckling.

“What's wrong, don't people like jazz?” Coach asked.

“It wouldn't be my first choice,” Kia answered.

“And what would be your first choice?” Coach asked. “One of those loud rap songs, or hop hip music?”

“That's hip hop,” Jamie said, correcting him.

Whatever it's called, it's hardly music. Do you know where I first learned to appreciate jazz?”

“Where?” I asked.

“In the locker rooms when I was in the bigs,” Coach said.

“The bigs?” David asked.

“The pros,” Jamie explained.

“When our team was on the road, the guys would always spend time in jazz clubs. Kansas, L.A., Detroit, Boston and of course New York – you name a city, and I've heard jazz there.”

“Pro basketball players like jazz?” Kia asked, sounding amazed. “I'm positive they like rap and hip hop and reggae.”

“Maybe now, but not before,” Coach explained.

“It's really all the same, you know,” Tristan said.

“It is?” a number of people asked at once.

“How do you figure that?” Coach asked.

“I was watching this TV show and it said that jazz music is sort of the great-grandfather of rap music.”

“That's a scary thought,” Coach said. “Throw on something, Nick.”

I scanned the case again. It really didn't matter much what I chose.

“Music makes the time pass more quickly,” Coach said. “We still have a long drive ahead of us.”

“Coach, why did you want us to come to this tournament?” Tristan asked. “There have to be closer ones we could have gone to.”

“No question about that, but there are a lot of teams traveling a lot farther than we are,” Coach said.

“Farther than a nine-hour drive?” I asked in amazement.

“Some of them will be driving for two or three days while others are taking a nine-hour
plane
ride.”

“Nine-hour plane ride? In nine hours you could fly right across the whole country!”

“Farther than that. This is an international tournament. There're the best teams from Canada
and the United States, but there're also going to be teams from Mexico and Europe.”

“People are flying there from Europe to play in a basketball tournament?” Kia questioned.

“Not just a basketball tournament, but
the
basketball tournament. This one is special.”

“But what makes it so special?” David asked.

“The teams that will be there. Most tournaments are open to any team that applies, but not this one.”

“You need an invitation, right?” I said.

“That's right. Any team is free to apply, but the organizers decide who's good enough to get an invitation. Hundreds of teams apply, and then they select only the top forty teams.”

“There's going to be forty teams?” I questioned in amazement. “That's gigantic!”

“It's hard to narrow it down any farther. The forty best teams.”

“And that's who we're going to be playing against?” I asked.

“Every single game is going to be tough. Probably the best team you played all of last season is only as good as the bottom teams in this tournament.”

I thought about that for a second and decided I really didn't want to think about it any more. It wasn't like we'd won every game last year.

“But just how do they even know which teams
are good enough and which aren't?” Kia asked.

“There's a whole committee that makes that decision. The committee is made up of basketball experts from around the country.”

“Experts? What sort of experts?” I asked.

“College and high school coaches, scouts and former professional players,” Coach explained.

“Still, even if they know basketball, how do they know which teams are the best? It isn't like they've seen us play,” Kia persisted.

“Along with our application I had to submit your schedule and record for last year,” Coach explained.

“And our record was good enough?” I asked. “We were one of the forty best teams?”

“We must be, ‘cause they let us in,” Tristan said from the back.

“Your record was pretty good, but I had to make a few calls as well,” Coach said.

“Calls to who?” I asked.

“I still have some basketball contacts. I know a couple of the guys on the selection committee. I told them about the team and they agreed we deserved an invitation.”

“That's good,” I said, although I wasn't that convinced. That meant that maybe we weren't even good enough to be here in the first place but the Coach talked them into letting us in anyway.

“It'll be exciting, but for me it'll be a walk down
memory lane,” Coach said.

“You've been here before?” I asked.

“I was here with my rep team when I was your age.”

“Wow, so this tournament has been going on practically forever,” Kia said.

“Watch it, Kia! I'm not quite that old. It was only thirty-four years ago.”

“Thirty-four years? That sounds like forever to me,” Tristan replied. “So how did your team do?”

“We did all right,” Coach said quietly.

“All right like you won a couple of games, or all right like you won the whole tournament?” Tristan asked.

Coach smiled and looked back over his shoulder. “What do you think?”

“I think you aced the whole thing and walked away with the first-place trophy,” Tristan replied.

Coach smiled again.

“Well?” Kia asked. “Is he right?”

“Tristan is half right. We did walk away with a trophy – second place. We lost in the finals.”

“That's still pretty good,” I offered.

“Losing in the finals is still losing. I played terribly… I let things get to me. I let the size of the crowd distract me.”

“There was a big crowd?” Kia asked.

“The biggest I ever played in front of until I
got to university.”

“How big was it?” I asked.

“Over six thousand people.”

A rumble of response spread around the van. The largest crowd I'd ever played for was about two hundred at most.

“And we'll be playing in front of a crowd that big?” I demanded.

“Only if we get as far as the finals.”

“Do you think we can do that?” Jamie asked. “Get to the finals?”

“These teams are the very best around.”

“And we were one of the best teams in our division last year,” Tristan said.

“You played well. You were a good team last year, and you're better now than you were then. But this isn't just your division. These are the best teams from the top divisions everywhere,” Coach said.

“So you don't think we can do it?” I asked.

“I'm not saying that.”

“So you think we
can
win it all?” Tristan asked.

“I'm not saying that either. I'm a coach, not a fortuneteller. All I can tell you for sure is that right now, before the tournament starts, you have the same record as every other team and the same chance of winning as anybody else… that is, if you want it.”

Everybody screamed out how much they wanted
it. I wanted it too… but every single player coming to this tournament wanted to win. The question in my mind wasn't if we wanted it, but if we were good enough.

“So, Nick, are you going to give me a CD or aren't you?” Coach asked.

“Sure… yeah… of course,” I said as I startled out of my thoughts and handed him a CD.

He clicked it in place and the saxophone of Grover Washington Jr. started coming out of the speakers. I didn't think that this music would make the trip seem any shorter – it would just make me
want
it to be shorter.

“Wake up, Nick, we're here!”

“Where?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“The hotel… the resort… we've arrived,” my father replied.

“How long was I asleep?” I asked.

“Close to three hours.”

Right after lunch we'd changed back to our original vehicles. I'd clipped on my headset, my CD player now equipped with new batteries, closed my eyes and gone to sleep.

My father slowed down as we drove down the long driveway. On both sides were large, lush lawns, and flower beds, and tennis courts. Off to the right there was a swimming pool. At one end of the pool was a high, high tower and diving board. It looked awfully high. There was no
way I was going off that tower, but I planned to spend a whole lot of time around the pool. One of the very best things about going away for a tournament was being around the pool and everybody just fooling around and having a great time.

“Look at the sign!” Kia said, pointing ahead.

There in gigantic letters it said “Welcome Basketball Players! Tournament Headquarters!”

“Len said that almost all the teams are staying right here at the resort,” my father said.

He pulled the van to a stop right under the overhang in front of the main entrance. I looked back to see Coach Barkley pull in right behind us.

“Everybody out,” my father announced. “And make sure you take your bags and things with you.”

We all tumbled out of the van and circled around to the back of the vehicle. My father opened the doors and bags started to tumble out. He stopped them with his body and then started to pass out everybody's bag.

“Anybody want to go for a swim?” Kia asked.

“No swimming,” my father said. “Everybody needs to get their stuff up to their room and get settled in before
anybody
goes
anywhere
.”

“Here we are, all safe and sound!” Coach Barkley said as he came up beside us along with the other
half of the team.

“That was some drive,” my father said.

“Not too bad. As soon as we get everybody checked in, I want to have a team meeting in my room,” Coach said.

“Sounds good… see you up there in ten minutes.”

“Here we are,” my father said as he swiped the card against the door and the little light turned green. He pushed open the door of our room.

“We're all staying in the same room?” Tristan asked as he pushed in right behind my father.

“Seven of us are staying in the same
double
room,” my father explained as we all crowded into the room. “And Coach Barkley and the other six guys are staying in a double room across the hall.”

The room had two double beds, a big dresser with a large TV atop it, and sliding doors opening up to a balcony.

“The other room is right through this door,” my father said as he pushed it open. We all surged through after him, although there really wasn't anything new or different to see – the second room was identical.

“So who sleeps where?” David asked.

“You, Jamie, Tristan and Mark sleep in this
room — two of you in each bed — and Nick, Kia and I get the other room. Nick shares with me and Kia, of course, gets her own bed,” my father explained.

“You see? There are some advantages to being a girl,” Kia said. “Although that advantage isn't as big as you'd think, because I have to share a room with Nick.”

“What's wrong with being in my room?” I demanded.

“Are you kidding? It's like sleeping with a chain saw running in the same room!”

“It's not that bad!” I protested. Besides, what did she have to complain about? I was the one who had to share a bed with my father. What Kia didn't know was that my mother always said that compared to my father I didn't make a sound.

“At least we won't hear him from the other room,” Tristan said. “We'll close the door and — ”

“The door isn't ever going to be closed,” my father said, cutting him off. “My job is to watch all of you, and I can't supervise through a closed door.”

“Okay,” Tristan said. “So the door stays open.”

“And nobody goes in or out through the hall door in your room. The door to the hall from your room stays closed, locked and chained. Everybody goes in and out through the door in my room. Any questions?”

“None,” Tristan said, holding up his hands.

“Sounds okay to me,” Jamie agreed. “Then let's drop our bags and meet with the coach,” my father said.

“Sounds good,” Kia agreed. “The sooner we start the meeting, the sooner we end the meeting, and the sooner we can get into the pool!”

I went back into the first room along with Kia and my father. I dropped my bag at the foot of one of the beds.

“Not that one,” my father said. “The one closest to the door.”

“But this one's closer to the TV!” I protested.

“You can see the TV just fine from this one. I have to be by the door to better watch things,” he said.

“What do you think we're going to do, make a break for it when you're sleeping?” I demanded.