05 | CAPTAIN CULTURE
There's no "I" in TEAM. Well, there's no "us" either.
Ivan's POV
"Hey Petrov," Donovan says in the middle of basketball practice. "There's a movie about you that's coming out. It's called The One and Only Ivan."
Michael Williams and Ezra Langer snicker. I roll my eyes. The One and Only Ivan is a movie about a gorilla called Ivan who plans to escape from activity with his best friend Ruby, who's an elephant. Needless to say, I haven't watched the movie. I read the movie's synopsis and decided not to go anywhere near the movie theatres as long as this film was running.
"Why don't you all go watch it," I deadpan. "You guys might learn something for once."
Langer looks like he's going to reply, but Coach Lincoln cuts us off. "Boys!" he calls. "You can't spend all day gossiping like those Highschool movies."
"We're not gossiping." Williams pouts.
Coach asks us to assemble and we all circle up around Coach Lincoln. Tyler Ziegler squeezes in next to me and quietly asks if everything's okay. I nod as slightly as I can and turn my attention back to Coach.
"This Friday, we're playing Jensen High. Don't take them lightly, they've been putting some good results on the board."
"We thrashed them last season," Langer counters. He's right, the last time we played them, our half-time score was greater than Jensen's final one.
"They've got some new players on the team," Coach continues. "And their coach has changed too. They've been unbeatable this season."
"And so have we," Donovan says, his voice edged with pride. Of the five games we've played, we won all of them.
"Yes," Coach Lincoln agrees. "And if you'd like to keep it that way, there are some things you need to focus on." He turns to me. "First, Petrov. It's not enough if you pass your exams, you have to pass to your teammates on the court."
Donovan laughs. I glare at him.
"I do, sir," I say.
"Like ten percent of the time you get possession?" Coach Lincoln turns to Coach Merton, our assistant coach. "What were the numbers again?"
Coach Merton recites a few stats off his book and it's clear I'm not passing enough.
"You guys need to play as the Wildcats. Not Ivan on one side and the rest of you on another," Coach Merton says.
"Every time I pass the ball, we miss a shot," I defend myself.
"Not true," Donovan retorts. "In the Bulldogs game -"
"The Bulldogs game was the only time where I didn't completely regret making a pass. Even then, Williams got a two-pointer when he could've gotten us a three."
"So you're blaming me now?" Williams bursts. "You're the one who made a faulty pass!"
"That was a bloody good pass." My hands ball into fists. "You received it-"
"Language, Ivan," Coach Merton cuts into my sentence. Honestly, who looks at bloody as a bad word?. "And I'd like to talk to you. Alone."
He gets a nod of approval from Coach Lincoln. Groaning, I walk along with my assistant coach to the other side of the gym.
"What's going on?" Coach Merton looks at me with concerned eyes. His lips are pressed to form a firm line.
"Nothing, Coach."
His frown grows deeper. I wonder if it's because of my obviously untrue answer or the way I've addressed him. Unlike Coach Lincoln, Coach Merton prefers being called by his first name. I've already pissed him off by calling him "Coach".
"We're not talking about your game, Player." He calls us by our designation when we call him by his. "You've just been behaving rather unusually for a couple of days. Something must be eating you."
I dig my hands into my pockets. Coach Merton can read people better than anyone I've seen. Even though I try my best to put up my usual frown when I'm around Donovan and a half-smile when I'm with Ziegler, it's not enough to deceive Coach Merton.
"I..." I shake my head. "I'm all right, Co-Merton."
He doesn't seem to believe me. His eyes follow my every movement with a hint of skepticism. "If there's anything, you can come to me, okay?"
I nod. Coach Merton pats me on the shoulder. Even though it's not that big of a gesture, I seem to relax by his touch. He must have sensed my muscles losing some tension, so he keeps his hand there.
"Now, about your game," he starts. This is one of the reasons I like Coach Merton so much. He knows when to drop a subject and when to start a new one. He just knows. I don't think I've ever felt like I couldn't trust him.
"I know you and Vinny don't... get along too well," he states. "But as captain, it's your responsibility to bring your team together."
"I didn't want to be captain in the first place," I gruff. Sure, I'm the best player in the school - the whole town, even - but I never wanted to be the leader of the team. But Coach Merton thought I'd be a good one, and I don't even want to think about how much I've disappointed him.
"And they won't even listen to me!" I grumble. I glance at Coach Lincoln and the boys. He's pointing at various players and then posing a rhetorical question at them. They all look ashamed. Ziegler, in particular, is tapping his feet and fidgeting with his jersey constantly. He's always been too hard on himself. Coach Lincoln firing upon their faults was all he needed to go back into his self-deprecating hellhole.
Sighing, I look back at Coach Merton.
"I know you love the game. If I said I'd coached a more talented kid in this sport, I'd be lying," Merton says. He sounds sincere, like always. "But basketball isn't about you. Or Vinny, for that matter. Or Tyler or Ezra. It's about you all. You can't play a team sport alone, Ivan."
"But we've never lost a match this season," I protest. Even though a part of me is telling me to listen to him, it's a very small part of me. Here's the truth if it wasn't obvious already: my teammates don't like me and I reciprocate their feelings.
"This sport isn't so much about winning as it is about playing your best." Coach Merton's eyes are glinting. I can't figure out why.
"I am playing my best." I can be haughty sometimes, but no one in my team puts the amount of time and effort into this game as I do. The reason why I'm so good at this game is hard work. I'm five feet, eleven. Luck and genetics don't even have a role in the equation.
"But the team isn't. And-"
I'm fuming now. Angry enough to cut him off. "That's not my problem!"
I know I'm their leader but I don't get the respect a captain deserves. Instead, I'm made fun of and bullied. I ignore everything they do to me, and all I want is for them to play well on the court. Is that too much to ask?
"That," Coach Merton points at my outburst. "is what I'm talking about. If a person isn't playing well, it's his problem. But if the entire team isn't working cohesively, the captain has to look into it."
I open my mouth to protest but nothing comes out. As much as I'd like to deny it, Coach Merton does have a point. No matter how frustrated I am, I listen to him.
"You're only as good as your team, Ivan. You're a good player, sure, but as captain, it is your duty to bring out the best in your team as well. You're all in this team for a reason."
"Even Donovan?" I ask. "It seems like the only reason for his existence is to make mine miserable."
"Donovan plays better than you give credit for," Coach defends him. "He wouldn't be in the team if he didn't deserve it."
I sigh. "What do you want me to do?" I ask finally.
"I don't have an answer to that. You have to figure that yourself. I'll always be here to guide you if you want."
His words confuse me. He's asking me to do something but not telling me what exactly I should do. I get it: I have to be a better captain. But how?
"You know the Falcons? Their captain, Lex Hope?"
My stomach churns at the mention of my rival. I think of his room, which I'm now sharing. His life, which I am now a bigger part of. Why is he doing this to me? Does he want me to feel indebted to him? If that's his plan, it sure is working.
"You mean Alexander Hope," I correct him. His name is Alexander but everyone calls him Lex. Everyone except me, that is. I'm not calling my enemy by his nickname. Yuck.
"Yeah, well. The Falcons are one of the best teams in the state. You want to know why?"
"Because they've set up a national record for cheating?" I grit my teeth. That's a lie. The Falcons have been accused of cheating almost every single year, but nothing's ever been confirmed.
"No. They win because they work together. As a team. If each one of you had to play the Falcons one-on-one, you guys would win, hands down. But basketball is a team sport. Take the Falcons as a whole and the Wildcats as a whole. And you've lost to them as many times they've lost to you. You guys are equals."
I nod. My hands ball into fists. Alexander Hope is a better captain than me. He's an asshole. And I don't like assholes being better than me.
Coach Merton sighs. He squeezes my shoulder. "Captaincy. I know I chose you for the role. Even after all this, I don't think you should give it up."
Even after all this. Even after my utter failure of being captain. There's a pang of guilt stabbing my stomach. Cutting through it until I realize that I've been blaming my teammates for our performance not being up to the mark when in reality I've been firing at the wrong snake. I... I'm the one who should be blamed.
They're at fault too. I'm not letting Donovan and his gang go that easily. But I've got a bigger role in this picture than I thought I did.
"But if you really don't want the role, I..." His voice trails off. He looks crestfallen. I don't know if he's disappointed in himself or in me.
He's my coach - the best one I've ever had. He doesn't deserve that look on his face. Doesn't deserve to be disappointed. He's the best man I've ever known, and it stings that the reason he looks so defeated is because of me.
"I'll do it," I cave. "I... Being captain. I probably won't be the best one. I'm not. But I'm willing to try."
His face instantly lights up. His lips tuck into a smile. He's happy. Surprised. Grateful. "Thank you."
"No, Coach Merton. It's my responsibility to bring out the best in this team." I turn around and see the Wildcats taking shots against the board.. "You don't have to thank me."
He smiles wryly. He steps forward, spreading his hands to engulf me in a hug but steps back when he realizes it's unprofessional. He resorts to brushing his fingers against my hair instead.
"I... I've taken a good amount of your time," he says. He still has that grateful expression plastered on his face. I want to wipe it off. I haven't even done anything yet. He shouldn't have his hopes that high.
"You should go, son. Tell Lincoln I'll be back in a few."
I nod as he takes his leave. I walk back to where the team has queued up for lay-ups. I join one of the lines, snippets of my conversation with Coach Merton replaying in my head.
"Hey, Shorty," Vinny Donovan says. He's right in front of me. He's grinning in his usual pathetic way. He doesn't even try to not look evil. Gods.
"Did Merton get your ego in check?" he snickers. "Because you look like all your self-esteem just deflated."
Wait, what? I'm the one with an inflated ego? I'm not a fucking mirror, Donovan, I think.
Instead of snapping back like I usually do, I keep my calm. Captaincy. I can't let Coach Merton down. "No, Donovan. And better get this shot right."
"Oh I will, Shorty," he boasts. "But let's see if your shot isn't an air ball like all the other times."
I almost laugh. He doesn't have enough insults to shower me with so he's going to make up instances to mock me? Donovan is known for his airballs. I don't think there's even a single match when he hasn't embarrassed himself - and by default, the whole team - by taking a shot that hasn't even touched the board.
"Oh, and when will you grow up, Shorty? Even my eleven year old cousin is taller than you. Bet she can replace you as captain and we won't even know the difference." With that, he runs forward, hops in one leg and completes his lay-up. The ball bounces on the ring twice before making it into the hoop.
He shoots me a proud grin when his shot is confirmed.
I grab a basketball from the ground and run towards the field-goal to take my lay-up. It's a clean shot. I don't even look back to see if my attempt was successful. I never miss my lay-ups.
"Got lucky, Petrov," Donovan tells beside me, smug as ever. If he's even slightly disappointed that my shot was better than his, he doesn't show it.
I sigh. Captaining the Wildcats is probably the hardest task I've ever received. And I'm nowhere close to achieving it.
xxx
A/N
This was the first chapter that doesn't feature our beloved Hope. I hope you liked it!
The next chapter is a personal favorite of mine (and my editor-in-chief-cum-partner-in-crime, my sister!) so stay tuned!