by Phil Wohl
SIX
A few drinks and a burger later, Dave walked back to his new home and passed out on the queen-sized bed at about 10:00 p.m. His internal tank was usually full after about six hours of sleep, but this night he slept a solid eight.
A shower and a shave, then a quick spin in the convertible had Dave pulling into a space in the teacher’s parking lot at 6:45 a.m. He walked through the back door of the school, and was struck by how peacefully quiet the school was. The gym lights were off but the east sun was starting to filter through the upper glass blocks and huge blue drapes.
Karl the janitor walked in and started cleaning the dirt off the floor with his large maroon broom.
“Karl, is that you?” Dave said across the gym.
Karl had recently turned 65 and his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be – but he still knew what he was looking at.
“David Abrahams, is that you?” Karl said as Dave walked over and shook his hand.
“Coach said you’d be back today. Just wanted to make everything right – it’s been a long time since anyone cared.”
“We’ll see what we can do about that,” Dave stated with all of the optimism of a grade-schooler.
“I’ll come back and finish up later. Good to have you back, coach.”
Dave walked onto then main court and under the basket closest to the hallway – he stretched his right arm toward the sky and grabbed the net with his right index finger. It felt good to be back doing what he loved for people he genuinely cared about.
He was trying to make a good impression on his first day, but wearing a business suit only made him stand out in the land of leisure suits and flammable fabrics. This setting was as far as possible from any boardroom, but he wanted to show the proper respect afforded any new job.
Dave walked into the main office at 6:55 a.m. to the delight of Martha, Principal Doherty’s secretary.
“Oh, there he is! We were just talking about our favorite son!”
“Good morning, Mrs. Graves,” a respectful Dave replied.
“You’re going to have to call me Martha,” the 54 year-old divorcee, and mother of one of his classmates, pronounced.
“That’s going to take some getting used to,” an awkward Dave replied.
Just then, Principal Doherty walked out of his office, “They made you dress like me, too?” the dapperly-dressed administrator quipped. “This is the only air-conditioned room in the building besides the teacher’s room. You better get used to dressing down a bit.”
Dave walked up to his coach and shook his hand, “It’s good to be back.”
They walked into the hallway as Martha said, “Good luck, David.”
“Thanks Mrs…. I mean, Martha,” Dave awkwardly replied.
“This is all going to come at you very fast, so I’m going to try to slow it down as much as possible,” Doherty explained.
The two men walked through the halls, which were starting to fill up with teachers and early-arriving students.
Doherty continued, “I’m going to pair you up with another new hire. This will give you both a chance to reacquaint yourselves with your surroundings. He turned into Room 215 and there was a tall, well-built woman writing on the blackboard. She turned her head and then did a double-take, before walking toward them.
“Dave Abrahams, this is Sarah Lindman,” the principal said.
The two met in a handshake before it clicked in Dave’s head, “Hey! You’re that girl that broke all of my records. How’s your brother Tim doing?”
She replied, “Yeah, but it took me three years to do what you did in two, and we only won half of our games.”
“A record is a record,” Dave stated.
“I was a sophomore when you were a senior,” she said. “My brother is doing great. His wife just had twin boys.”
Doherty chimed in, “Do you remember when I paired you up with her during your senior year? She was about four inches shorter back then.”
“Wow! That was you? You’re a lot taller and you’ve filled out nicely since then.”
She blushed, “Thanks.”
Principal Doherty looks at them, “Normally I would warn new employees of our sexual harassment policy, but I’ll let this one go.”
Dave looked at the blackboard and said, “Health?”
“That’s what they call it, but I want to call it Life Tools.”
“Yeah, we’ll talk some more about that,” Principal Doherty, the old Health teacher, stated.
“What class are you going to be teaching?” she asked.
“Business.”
“Oh right. I saw you on TV a few weeks ago. Didn’t understand a word you said, though.”
“Dave’s going to apprentice under Mrs. Walters until she retires in December,” Doherty explained.
“How many games did the girls’ basketball team win last year?” she asked.
Doherty replied, “I think they won a couple.” He turned to Dave, “She’s our new coach. And by the way, your team hasn’t won a game in three years.”
“Looks like you got your work cut out for you,” she ribbed.
“Don’t you know there’s no ‘u’ in team,” Dave replied smiling at his coach. “We’re going to have to go back to the beginning. There’s no sense dwelling on the past.”
“Why don’t you two take a seat,” Doherty said in his most nurturing voice.
He removed two thick booklets from the inner breast pocket of his jacket, and then handed each of them a book of rules. “I would read that county basketball rule book from cover to cover. You two know the game better than anyone else I ever met, but these books take it to another level. I’m going to give you a few days to look it over and then we’ll talk about the particulars. You can’t move ahead with your programs unless you know these rules cold.
Dave and Sarah nodded as Principal Doherty started walking out. From the doorway he said to Sarah, “You’ll walk Dave to Mrs. Walters’ homeroom.”
He then looked at Dave, “Dave, good luck son. We’re glad to have you back.”
Doherty disappeared into the hallway and Sarah turned to Dave and asked, “You wanna’ get together after school?”
“Three-thirty in the gym,” Dave countered.
“Did you bring a change of clothes, because I have some new moves,” she stated.
“Yeah, I have a bag in the car. But I have to warn you, it’s been a few years since I picked up a ball.”
“Well you can read and I’ll shoot.”
“Deal,” Dave replied.
“Let me take you back to meet Mrs. Walters.”
Dave asked, “What is she like?”
Sarah smirked, “Remember that lady with the shopping cart that used to hang out at the park? What was her name?”
Dave thought for a moment, “Crazy Alice.”
“Yeah, Crazy Alice.”
“Are you saying that she reminds you of a bag lady?”
She smiled, “I think you just inferred that. Mrs. Walters doesn’t walk around with a cart.”
Dave laughed and then abruptly stopped, “Wow! It’s gonna’ be a long few months.”
The day went by as slowly as sitting through Mrs. Wallace’s geometry class. Dave used to look out the left bank of classroom windows and watch golfers approach the eleventh hole of the Kennedy Memorial Park golf course. Thankfully, Mrs. Walters’ classroom also faced the same hole, because listening to her endless views on textbook business were ringing in Dave’s ears like a continuous school bell.
Dave might have been a renowned expert on Wall Street, but he was quite a novice in the classroom. He usually spoke about advanced topics but wasn’t as well versed in describing basic concepts. That was where the 25 years of work experience for Walters would come in handy.
Later that day, Dave walked into the locker room to change his clothes. Bruce Watkins, the boys’ soccer coach walked through and stopped when he saw Dave.
“You must be D
ave Abrahams. I’m Bruce Watkins, boys’ soccer and volleyball coach.”
They shook hands and Watkins continued, “I’m not sure if you know this but we have our own locker room downstairs.”
“When did they put that in?” Dave asked.
“A few years ago. They moved and updated the boiler room, so we took over the space.”
Dave thanked Watkins and then walked downstairs past the varsity locker room and down the half-lit hallway to a room marked “Coaches.” He opened the door, leaving the sparse setting of the typical public school basement. The room was complete with carpeting, comfortable chairs and couches, plus carpeting, dry erase boards, and state-of-the-art audio-visual equipment. On one side was the women’s locker room and the other was the men’s locker room. It was more like being in a deluxe health club than a school basement.
Dave reached into the side pocket of his Carolina blue Nike gym bag and pulled out a Master lock, which hadn’t been used in over a year at New York Health and Racquet Club. He thought briefly about the combination and then dialed 4, 17, 29, and opened the lock.
He looked around for an open locker and then grabbed number 44. It felt good to undo a tie and remove a suit that he hadn’t worn since his engagement party. It felt even better for Dave to be free of the noose that Haley had been tightening around his neck for some time.
The long locker was equipped with a sturdy wood hanger, which Dave used to hand up his suit. He had gained a good 15 pounds since his last workout, causing his XXL t-shirt to be a bit confining. The 15 pounds were probably a bit closer to 20 pounds, making him feel slow and a bit out of his element. He thought, “It’s a good thing they asked me to coach, not play.”
Dave laced up his completely underutilized, three year-old, Adidas basketball sneakers. He grabbed the rule book and then closed the locker and spun the lock. Being out of breath walking up the stairs had Dave looking for an elevator. He thought, “Whatever happened to Handicap Accessible?” He took a drink from the knee-cap height water fountain and then made his way onto the gym floor.
There were a few students walking on both sides of the gym, but only Sarah was on the main court. She was wearing a pair of basketball shorts, Adidas Superstar 2G low tops, and a blue and gold warm-up jacket with DOLPHINS BASKETBALL on the back. She turned to Dave and said, “You have to earn one of these jackets.”
He flipped his rule book under the basket next to her book.
“This is gonna’ hurt, but I need that jacket,” he said.
“I have one close by if you can beat me. Game to 21, winner’s out. Everything goes back.”
“So, you’re making the rules?” Dave asked.
She stared him down. “My court, my rules.”
“So, now it’s your court?” Dave challenged her as he checked the ball. “You score a few points and grab a few rebounds, and then you take ownership of the court?”
She grabbed the ball and then sunk a quick jump shot. “That’s one.”
“I didn’t even have a chance,” he said.
“Looks like you gained a little weight, Mr. All-American. The game has changed a lot since you left,” she teased.
His face turned serious as she rushed her next shot and Dave jumped about three inches off the ground and grabbed the missed shot. He walked the ball past the foul line and said, “Do you still get a point for making a shot from here?”
“Swish.”
He moved to his left, “How about here?”
“Swish.”
Sarah smiled and then started to giggle like a kid.
“Yeah, that’s 2-1,” he said.
He missed his next shot and they traded baskets and aggression until the score was 19-19.
“I would let you win, but I really want that jacket,” Dave said between heavy breaths.
She smirked and then turned serious as she dribbled slowly around the foul line. “I would let you win, but I leave my charitable pursuits outside of the gym.”
Sarah quickly crossed the ball over from her right to her left hand and then drove hard to the hoop. She thought she was home free until the ground shook from the coming stampede. Dave’s long legs made up ground as he cocked his right arm and slapped the lay-up attempt against the blue pads under the basket.
The game was pretty much over after that. Sarah nervously threw up a long shot and then Dave hit two flat-footed, 20-foot jumpers to seal the deal. He sat down against the pads as Sarah said, “I’ll be right back.”
Dave softly replied, “Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”
Sarah returned with a couple of plastic bottles of Gatorade. “Orange or fruit punch?”
“Orange, please.”
She flipped him an orange Gatorade and then tossed him the Dolphins Basketball warm-up. She smiled and said, “The largest size we had was extra, extra-large.”
He looked behind himself at the pads and replied, “I think I dented this pad. Pretty sad that you let a water buffalo chase you down.”
He opened the orange drink and gulped down about half the bottle, before the excess rolled down his chin and to his sweat-soaked shirt.
He sighed. “Wow, that is good,” Dave said and then reached down and picked up one of small, beige rule books. “Ok, let’s get down to business.”
For the first 20 minutes, Dave read the book and then they both interpreted the words, as Sarah continuously took foul shots. Once Dave’s electrolytes were restored, he switched places with Sarah after he fetched a towel and wiped up the pool of sweat that had accumulated under him.
Dave was feeling more comfortable with every shot, until the point when his left hand was able to compete with his right hand. He had spent hours practicing free throws, letting each side freshly compete against the other. Walter Abrahams used to play one-on-one against his son, and would give Dave the ball back if he attempted a shot with his left hand. This helped strengthen his weak hand to the point that he became a lethal threat with both hands.
“What is that, like 15 in a row?” Sarah chimed in.
Dave wanted to clarify a point, “So, the count stops when the ball is in the air, not when it is touched by a player on the floor?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Were you upset when I broke your scoring record?”
Dave smiled as he sank another free throw. ”A little. I think my dad was more upset than I was. So, how many three-pointers did you have in that game?”
“Three.”
He continued, “So, you scored 45 points with three, three-pointers, and I scored 44 with zero three-pointers?”
Sarah was ready to say, “Yeah, what’s your point?” but she came to a stunning realization. “You didn’t have three-pointers back then. How many bombs did you put up?”
Without hesitation, Dave replied, “Two, maybe three. But a record is still a record.”
“Since you left no guy has ever scored more than 25 points in a game, and no girl has scored more than 20 points since I left.”
Brad shook his head in disbelief. “That’s pretty messed up. Well, it’s our time again,” he said as he finally missed a free throw. “You wanna’ grab some dinner?” Dave asked as if he was talking to a buddy.
Sarah stood up and replied, “Thanks for asking but I have to meet my boyfriend.”
“Oh, am I holding you up? Dave said in an apologetic tone.
“No, Dave Abrahams. You’re not holding me up. Thanks for almost letting me win. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks for the warm-up jacket. I’ll really enjoy it when it fits,” he said as she disappeared into the girl’s locker room.
Dave muttered to himself, “Got to make the last shot,” as he cocked his right arm and released the ball toward the rim. He would never leave the court until his last shot went through without touching the rim. On this day, it took only one shot – must have been beginner’s luck.
Sarah had just started to see a guy she met near the end of the summer
. At 26, she had had her share of relationships, although none had lasted more than six months. After high school, she had a few scholarship offers but decided to attend Cortland State University on what amounted to a half-scholarship—the Division III school could not offer formal scholarships so it gave its students creative jobs to defray the costs. Sarah wound up working at the gym, which paid for more than half of her education, and her parents picked up the remainder of the small tab for this cost-conscious, in-state school.
While at Cortland, she majored in health education and minored in sports management. SUNY Cortland was a veritable sports factory and many players went on to be major players in the sports world after graduation. Sarah worked for the Albany Yankees and then wall called up to the big club in the Bronx during her four years after Cortland. But working in the club’s public relations department was a far stretch from what she really envisioned for her career.
It was a no-brainer for Sarah when Principal Doherty called her the previous March when she was down in spring training with the Yankees. One of the high school’s health teachers was leaving and Doherty had a hole to fill. Ten wins in three years driven by a woman that spent more time with the drama club and staging plays than she did with the basketball team in calling plays, was quite enough.
Sarah gladly accepted Principal Doherty’s offer by saying, “I’ve been a Mets fan all of my life anyway.”
She worked in summer school and Hofstra basketball camp to get back into the swing of things. Sarah Lindman grew up the youngest of four kids to Mike and Deidre Lindman. She had three older brothers that were athletes, so she really has no choice to either blend in or be left behind. Her eldest brother, Gary, was six years older and was an all-state lacrosse player. He went on to star at Syracuse University and has been a successful high school lacrosse coach since graduating.
Brother number two, Danny, was all-county in both lacrosse and soccer, and works on Wall Street. The brother she is the closest with, Tim, is only a year older than Sarah, and was the first Lindman to play their father’s favorite sport, basketball. Gary and Danny were both about six feet tall, but Tim was 6’4” and Sarah was almost as tall as the other two. Dad was 6’1” and mom was 5’7”, so the height of the last two was a bit surprising.
Danny was a fair hoops player, starting every game in his senior year after seeing garbage minutes his junior year as a member of Dave’s team. Tim had the assignment of guarding Dave every day in practice that year. He learned a lot that season, and went on to average 10 points and eight rebounds his senior year. But, baseball was his sport – Tim was all-state as a pitcher and went to St. Johns University on a full scholarship. He was drafted by the Minnesota Twins and spent a few years in the minor leagues before becoming a pitching coach for the organization’s AA team in New Britain, Connecticut. He is currently the manager of that team, and is considered one of the rising stars in the organization.
For all of the family’s accomplishments, Mike Lindman became most excited when his girl told him that she decided to coach at the high school. He never missed a game at bailey Woods, and even made occasional treks to Upstate New York to see her play in college. He had worked the most with Sarah and Tim on their games, primarily because he had no experience or interest in lacrosse or soccer. Mom was the soccer and lacrosse specialist of the family and was the real driving force, both literally and figuratively, of the older boys’ success. She drove those kids everywhere while her husband worked as a corporate lawyer in Manhattan. It was a household where you needed a scorecard to keep track of the non-stop action.
