Training Camp

by Kobe Bryant

  “What do you mean?”

  He hesitated, lowering his voice. “When I was falling. I just thought: I ain’t done yet.”

  “And here you are.”

  They started for the bench together. He realized, almost to his surprise, that they had become friends, real friends, almost without his knowing. He had spent so much time thinking about how to get a friend. Smart things to say. In the end, it was just about opening up.

  “You caught it, didn’t you?” Reggie asked suddenly. “You caught the orb.”

  Alfie glanced at him, frowning. “Why do you say that?”

  “You were a different kid on that mountain,” he said. “A leader.”

  “I’m not a leader.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Reggie said.

  Alfie flushed and looked away. He caught a glimpse of Rain heading for the closest hoop with his ball tucked under his arm. He was wearing a look of intense concentration, even anger.

  “What are you doing, Rain?” Peño asked.

  Rain stopped at the free-throw line. “Shooting.”

  He began to shoot, grabbing the ball and returning to the line after every hit or miss. Everyone got their balls and joined him, including Alfie. As he started shooting, he thought about the future.

  His future.

  ALFIE LIFTED THE ball over his shoulder, jab-stepped left, and then pivoted for a jumper. He banked the shot in and grabbed the ball as it fell, feeling sweat leak out along with some disappointment.

  He had wanted to stand up to his father last night. He had planned it and talked himself through it and been ready when the front door opened. But his resolve had melted the second he had faced him. So Alfie had walked through the trophies and talked about calorie-heavy diets and listened to his old stories. And as he did, he knew he still had a long way to go.

  But it wasn’t all bad. Accepting that he was afraid of ending up like his father was a start. He knew what he was fighting against. That gave him just a little bit of hope that he could beat it.

  The front doors of Fairwood blew open, and Alfie looked on in wonder as a wave of snow rushed in and filled the court with blurry shapes of trophies and basketballs and mountains wreathed with clouds. A player made of snow dribbled past him, dodging a tiger, and then they, along with the rest, burst into snowflakes and evaporated. Rolabi walked through the doors, and they slammed shut behind him.

  “Must be snowing in the Kingdom of Granity,” Reggie said, eyes wide.

  “Apparently.”

  “Still not going to tell the rest of the team what we learned from that book?” he asked.

  Alfie considered that. “I think Rolabi probably has that covered.”

  “So he talks in your head too?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s a relief,” Reggie murmured.

  The team assembled in front of Rolabi, and he looked them over.

  “Three of you have caught the orb so far,” Rolabi said—to Alfie’s surprise. “I can see some changes. The rest must stay vigilant. They must be ready when the moment comes.”

  Alfie wondered who the other player was. He guessed that it had to be Rain.

  “Today we will be focusing on team offense,” he continued. “You have worked on your passing and vision. You have worked on your shot. But this is not a game of one. It is a game of many. Even the greatest players cannot win this game alone.”

  Rolabi looked up, and Alfie followed his gaze. He frowned.

  The fluorescent light panels had been dusted, and the once-decrepit A-beam rafters were covered in a fresh coat of stain. Fairwood was looking better every day. Alfie knew there was no super janitor. No secret renovation team. It seemed ridiculous, but Fairwood was cleaning itself.

  He had seen plenty of grana, of course, but this was different—concrete and permanent. Clearly, grana wasn’t just capable of visions or bizarre drills. It could create real-world changes.

  That part hadn’t been in the book.

  “It is good to recognize who is defending us at all times,” Rolabi said, still staring up at the lights. “To use size and speed advantages. But before that, we must understand what it means to attack as a team. And so we remove those advantages and create fully equal defenders.”

  As soon as he said it, half of the overhead lights switched off. The remaining ones brightened, and Alfie squinted against the glare. Only the lights facing the team remained on, as though they were standing on a theater stage.

  “We will learn to attack as one,” Rolabi continued. “But first, we need defenders.”

  Alfie suddenly felt like he was being watched from behind, or like a feather was being dragged along the nape of his neck. He tensed, wondering what was happening now.

  Rain shouted a warning, and Alfie turned around to one of the most terrifying sights he had ever witnessed. His shadow was standing up. It seemed to be waking from a long slumber, stretching its limbs and jumping on the spot. The shape was a perfect three-dimensional replica of him: tall and frail. It was flanked by a whole team of ominous shadow players. Alfie was speechless.

  “Mommy,” A-Wall whispered.

  “Meet today’s defenders,” Rolabi said. “You should know them well.”

  Alfie’s shadow stuck out its hand. Alfie looked down, bewildered, but he didn’t want to be impolite. He tepidly reached out a hand.

  “Nice to . . . uh . . . meet you . . . Shadow Alfie.”

  Shadow Alfie shook his hand. The grip was limp and weak . . . exactly like his own, but ice-cold. Everything was mirrored. The posture. The nervous energy. Shadow Alfie went back to its warm-up.

  “Into position, defenders,” Rolabi said.

  Five of the shadows jogged over to the net and formed a loose zone, while the rest hurried to the sideline to wait, high-fiving one another. Alfie had never seen anything so bizarre in his life.

  “I think it’s obvious who will be guarding you. But it won’t be a scrimmage; we will just be working on our offense. You will sub in as we go. Let’s try a few as usual. Starters, go first.”

  I guess that’s me, Alfie thought nervously.

  “Line it up,” Peño said.

  As Alfie headed for the post, his shadow matched every step with an arm out to jockey him. The team worked the ball around but couldn’t find an opening—even Rain was stymied. Eventually, Alfie caught a pass down low, turned to shoot, and was stuffed by his own shadow.

  “Thanks,” he said. “My own shadow is making me look like an idiot.”

  Shadow Alfie gave him a comforting pat on the back.

  “Switch it up,” Rolabi said.

  The bench players were shut out as well. Both teams played against the shadows, taking turns for nearly an hour, and scored only a few buckets. Alfie had always relied on being taller than his defender, and without that advantage, he was lost. They all were.

  “Take a break,” Rolabi said as yet another pass was stolen by the shadow team.

  Shadow Alfie tapped its wrist like it was wearing a watch.

  “I guess you don’t get tired, huh?” Alfie asked.

  Shadow Alfie shook its head, and then started doing jumping jacks to prove its point.

  “Show off,” Alfie muttered.

  He gulped some water down, feeling a splash drip into his already-­sopping shirt.

  “Our shadows are kicking our butts,” Reggie said, finishing his own bottle.

  “I know. I’m not sure if we get any credit for that.”

  Reggie laughed. “I doubt it.”

  Alfie tuned back in to the conversation. Peño was answering a question. “Well, we still need to pass to each other and stuff.”

  “For the most skilled player in the world, and for him alone, there is always an advantage,” Rolabi said. “For all the rest of us, we must create the advantage for ourselves. And
that can only be done with the help of our team.”

  “But—” Peño said.

  “If we play defense as a team, we play offense as a team. We talk. We plan. We see the floor.”

  “But—” Peño persisted.

  “We attack as one. And that starts with a simple spotlight. Into your positions, please.”

  Alfie jogged down to the post and put his arm up for the pass, trying to hold his position. He kept catching glimpses of a faceless head over his shoulder and shuddered. It soon got worse.

  The remaining lights began to dim. As they faded, Shadow Alfie grew, and Alfie felt himself being driven away from the hoop as it became stronger. His teammates began to slip into darkness around him, until he found himself squinting. Alfie did not like where this was going.

  “Peño, pass the ball to Rain,” Rolabi said.

  Peño hesitated. “I can barely see him. Can we turn some more lights on?”

  “That is the hope. Pass the ball.”

  Peño sighed and passed the ball to Rain. As soon as Rain caught the pass, the darkness receded, but from Rain only. It was like a spotlight had been turned on him, and his defender stepped back. As Rain held the ball, clearly deciding how to attack, the spotlight dimmed again.

  “Twig!” Rain said.

  He faked a bounce pass and then lobbed it down to the block, and Alfie caught it, fighting to keep his shadow back. As soon as he caught the ball, the white spotlight fell on him.

  As he held the ball, the lights began to dim again. He suddenly understood.

  “The passing,” Twig said. “It lights us up.”

  Rolabi nodded. “Options light up a court. When everyone moves, the darkness lifts.”

  Options, Alfie thought. That was a different thing entirely.

  Rain sprinted to the corner, losing his defender, and though he didn’t have the ball, a spotlight fell on him immediately. Alfie passed him the ball, and Rain began to dribble in one spot. The spotlight faded, so Peño made a quick cut for the ball and was suddenly illuminated.

  You have to make yourself available, Alfie realized. You light up if you get open too.

  Alfie moved for a screen and then rolled. A brilliant white light fell over him.

  There was no choice: move or be swallowed by shadows. Alfie set countless screens, caught passes, and dished the ball. Even if he was out of the play, he searched for ways to get in.

  At one point, Alfie got a pass down low. He saw a flash of blinding light as Rain cut behind him, which Alfie knew meant that Rain was the best option for a pass. He threw a no-look pass behind his back, and Rain scored easily.

  “Nice pass, Twig,” Rain said, sounding surprised.

  Twig flushed. Rain had never complimented him before.

  “Again,” Rolabi said.

  Alfie was soon drenched. But once again, he was enjoying the drill.

  Not only was he part of the offense, he was integral to it. The ball was constantly coming down low. Before he knew it, he was hitting players on the cut with bounce passes, faking shots, and even tossing skip passes to the other side. His shadow was a tenacious defender, but it couldn’t keep up with the sheer options he had on offense. As the drill continued, the advantage changed, and the attackers scored more often than not. Even though he was tired, Alfie was alert.

  He was useful.

  He handed the ball off to Rain for an easy layup, and Rolabi stepped forward again.

  “That’s enough for today,” he said. “Sit and watch.”

  He pulled the daisy out of his bag and set it down, glancing at the shadows. “Thank you, gentlemen.”

  The darkened lights flashed, and the shadows vanished immediately. Alfie sat down in front of the daisy, stretching his legs. He was exhausted and sore, but he was smiling.

  “What did you see during the drill?” Rolabi asked.

  “Movement,” Reggie said.

  “And?”

  “A team,” Alfie said proudly.

  He liked the sound of that. A lot.

  “Yes. We are a team on both ends. If you use the Spotlight Offense, you will be more effective.”

  The professor fell quiet, and Alfie let his mind focus on the flower. He watched the leaves and the petals. He saw no movement, as usual, and the ticking of the clock seemed to slow. He didn’t fidget. In fact, he welcomed the stillness. But Alfie soon noticed that the room was oddly silent. There were no sounds of shuffling or even breathing. He looked up and realized why. The orb had returned.

  Alfie knew instantly that it wasn’t here for him.

  He had found his dark room, and it was up to the others to catch the orb now.

  “Here we go again,” Lab whispered.

  The team charged, though three stayed seated: Alfie, Devon, and Jerome. The three of them exchanged a quick nod. Alfie wondered what they had found in their dark rooms. For the first time, it really clicked that they all had something they were afraid of. It felt like an obvious realization, but somehow, Alfie had almost assumed he was the only coward. The only one struggling.

  Finally, after a clever pivot, Rain caught the orb and was gone. Alfie wondered what he would find. Surely Rain, at least, wasn’t afraid of much. His life was perfect.

  Everyone has their own battles. Wish for others’ circumstances at your peril.

  But don’t some people have it worse than others? Alfie thought.

  There is no scale apart from our own.

  Rolabi left, but his words remained. Alfie thought about the previous season. He had spent so much time assuming he alone had all the problems that he had never asked anyone about theirs. Never looked to help. Reggie and his missing parents. Big John and his two jobs.

  What else was staring at him, begging to be seen?

  And that is the question that every leader must ask themselves.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Reggie and Alfie were sitting on the away bench. They had already been shooting around and had come back for a drink of water—Alfie from a store-bought bottle and Reggie from an old refillable, the logo long since worn off. They drank deeply and sat quietly.

  The rest of the team was warming up, and they were alone there.

  “Can I ask you something, Alfie?” Reggie asked.

  “Sure.”

  “What did you see? In . . . that place?”

  Alfie glanced at him. Reggie had said little during their warm-up, which was nothing new, but he looked different today. His hands were clasped in his lap, his eyes staring at something far away. They looked swollen. He had been crying.

  “You caught the orb.”

  “This morning,” Reggie said. “When I was alone.”

  Alfie took a moment. He wasn’t ready to get into specifics. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be. But that wasn’t the point. If he was right, Reggie would have found the same thing.

  “I saw my fears,” he said at last. “I had to face them.”

  Reggie nodded slowly. “And . . . were there people there?”

  “Yes,” Alfie said. “One, anyway. You?”

  Reggie’s eyes were glistening. A tear wandered down his cheek, and he didn’t wipe it.

  “I wanted to stay there,” he whispered.

  So he had seen them. Alfie couldn’t imagine the pain of that . . . of seeing his parents and hearing their voices and then having to say goodbye yet again. His father was difficult, and hard, but he was there. He felt a deep pang of sympathy. Pity.

  No one needs pity. They need understanding.

  “Are you sure you aren’t already staying there?” Alfie asked. “I was living in mine.”

  Reggie closed his eyes for a moment. It was as if he was picturing them again.

  “You’re probably right,” he said. “I guess . . . I just didn’t want to admit the truth.”

  “Me either. Maybe nobod
y does.”

  Reggie wiped his eyes. “Think they’re up there?” he asked. “Watching us?”

  “I’m sure they are.”

  Reggie stuck a fist out, and Alfie met it—knuckle to knuckle.

  “My brotha,” Reggie said, smiling through the tears.

  “And you are also . . . my brother,” Alfie replied.

  Reggie laughed and stood up, shaking his head. “You kill me, Twig.”

  They heard clacking shoes and turned to see Rolabi striding onto the court.

  “We have two days left of our training camp,” he said. “And two left to catch the orb.”

  Alfie looked around, wondering who still had to catch it. He looked at Big John, wondering what his dark room was. He blinked when he saw Rolabi turn and start for the doors.

  Peño frowned. “There’s no practice today?”

  “Oh yes,” Rolabi said, heading for the front doors. “You just don’t need me.”

  “What should we do?” Rain said.

  “I leave that to you.”

  He strode into the gale-force winds and was gone. The doors slammed shut again behind him, but this time, they vanished completely, leaving only yellowed cinder blocks in their wake.

  The only way in, or out of, Fairwood was now gone.

  “Perfect,” Peño muttered. “I guess he’s making sure we don’t go home early.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Twig said warily.

  A deep rumble filled the gym. It sounded as if some ancient engine had been restarted. Alfie thought of the silvery arteries running through the floors and ceiling. The pulsating heart. If the gym was actually alive . . . did that mean it could move as well?

  And then the walls that ran alongside the court began to push forward, closing in.

  “Impossible,” Vin murmured.

  “Possibility is subjective,” Lab snarled. “Any ideas?”

  Alfie was stumped. He stared slack-jawed as the walls approached, driving the bleachers and the locker room doors and everything else along with them with slow, unstoppable force. He tried to think. It was a test, surely . . . but of what? If they would panic?

  If that was it, they promptly failed. Rain began to pound the walls. Vin grabbed his ball and tried to score. The team joined him, sinking layups and free-throw shots and threes, but nothing worked. The walls closed in with the slow inevitability of the tide. Alfie tried not to think about being crushed, and of course that was all he could think of. He racked his brain.