Game Changers--A Benchwarmers Novel

by John Feinstein

  Going through the handshake line, DeShea Watson introduced herself to Andi. “You’re the soccer player, right?” she said.

  “I played soccer, yeah,” Andi said.

  “Well, you got game here, too. What the heck is your coach doing not playing you and that tall blonde girl more?”

  Andi smiled. “You’d have to ask her,” she said.

  Watson patted her on the back. “Well, she should only play you two if she wants to win games. When you guys were in with the two sisters you were pretty good.”

  They both moved on. When Andi had shaken the final hand, she headed in the direction of the locker room, only to find Michael Barkann blocking her way.

  He put out his hand. “Andi, Michael Barkann,” he said. Andi liked the fact that he didn’t assume she knew who he was. Jeff had told her that his father often joked about TV people who thought they were “famous for being famous.”

  “Nice to see you, Mr. Barkann,” she said.

  “It’s Michael,” he said. “Can I grab you for a minute?”

  Andi’s teammates were all walking or jogging past her, giving her “what’s going on?” glances.

  “Well, I have to go to the locker room right now…”

  “Understand. We can wait. How about when you’re done in there?”

  “Why do you want to talk to me?” Andi said, baffled.

  “Just following up on the stuff we did on you during soccer. We get a lot of tweets and e-mails asking how you’re doing.”

  Given that it was NBC–Philly’s initial story on her that had allowed her to play soccer, Andi thought it would be rude to say no. She wished, though, that her parents, who were both working, or Jeff, who was in New Jersey, were around to talk it over with. She was pretty certain Coach Josephson wouldn’t be thrilled with seeing her on TV.

  Still … she was already on the end of the bench …

  “Sure,” she said. “Give me a few minutes.”

  Fortunately, she wasn’t the last person to enter the locker room. Her friends—Eleanor, Maria, and Lisa—had lingered waiting for her.

  “What was that about?” Maria asked.

  “Tell you later,” Andi answered as they walked inside.

  If Coach Josephson had noticed her talking to Barkann, she chose not to comment on it.

  “Okay,” she said, when everyone had sat down on stools in front of their lockers. “Disappointing start, but that was a good team. I thought all of you had some good moments and we learned a lot about what we need to work on today.

  “We’re off tomorrow, give you a chance to catch up on schoolwork if you need to, and back to practice on Thursday. Quick turnaround, though; we play at Chester Heights on Friday.”

  She turned to Bronson. “Jamie, get everyone in.”

  Bronson led a quick cheer: “Beat the Lions!” and they all headed to the showers as Coach Josephson went to the door. Once she was gone, Coach Axelson asked to see Andi and Lisa Carmichael before they hit the showers.

  They walked to a corner of the locker room, next to the water fountain.

  The young assistant looked around as if there might be a microphone hidden in the wall.

  “Look, you two,” she said quietly. “I know you’re frustrated you didn’t play earlier and didn’t play more. Be patient. Remember what Coach said the first day: She’s learning as she goes. We all are.”

  She looked directly at Andi. “I saw you talking to the TV guy out there. I’m not telling you not to talk to him, but be very careful what you say. Don’t give Coach an excuse not to play you.”

  Andi said nothing.

  “You understand me, Andi?”

  “I do, Coach.”

  “Good. Now hit the showers, both of you.”

  * * *

  Michael Barkann and his crew were waiting in a corner of the gym when Andi came out of the locker room. The varsity teams were now warming up for their game and Andi saw there were eight minutes on the pregame clock. She assumed her interview wouldn’t last more than a minute or two.

  “Thanks for doing this,” Barkann said, as Andi walked over to where he was standing.

  “No problem.”

  “The anchor will introduce the piece, reminding people about your soccer season, and then come right to me, so I’ll just start asking you questions, okay?” Barkann said.

  “Sure, but aren’t you usually an anchor?” Andi asked.

  Barkann nodded. “Usually, but every once in a while, I like to get out and do some reporting. By the way, your coach refused to talk to me. You have any idea why? This isn’t like soccer where your coach tried to cut you for being a girl.”

  Andi had a lot of answers to the question but decided to keep her mouth shut—even off camera.

  “No clue,” she said. She glanced at the clock, now under six minutes. “We better get going.”

  “Right,” he said, and signaled his cameraman, who pointed a finger to let him know he was ready.

  “Andi, basketball season didn’t get off to a great start for you and your teammates today, but how does it feel to be on a girls’ team?”

  Andi smiled. “Great, actually. I mean, I enjoyed being part of the boys’ soccer team, especially because we did so well when all was said and done. But it’s fun to not be alone in the locker room.”

  She figured that was a good, upbeat answer.

  Barkann nodded. “Watching the game today, I was surprised you didn’t play more. You certainly did well when you got a chance.”

  “I think our coach is still trying to figure out our best combinations,” Andi said. “Everyone played today, so I think she learned a lot. We only had a few days of preseason practice.”

  “You expect to play more in your next game?”

  “I hope so,” Andi said. “Beyond that, though, I just hope we play better on Friday than we did today.” Barkann started to pull the mic back, but Andi quickly added: “We lost our first couple soccer games and turned it around. I hope we do the same in basketball—only get going in the right direction a little quicker.”

  “Thanks, Andi. Good luck the rest of the season.”

  The light on the camera went off.

  “Terrific as always,” Barkann said. “You’re an old pro at this.”

  They shook hands again. Andi breathed a sigh of relief and turned to go. She hadn’t taken two steps before she almost bumped right into Stevie Thomas.

  “I have a few questions of my own,” he said. “Got another couple minutes?”

  * * *

  Andi knew Thomas’s questions wouldn’t be as easy to dance around.

  She remembered Jeff’s dad explaining to the two of them the difference between a TV interview and a print interview: “You duck a question on TV or give a politically correct answer, the interviewer almost certainly won’t call you out on camera,” he said. “That would be rude and could make him look bad for badgering.

  “Print is different,” he continued. “You give a nonanswer, a good reporter will call you on it or ask the same question another way.”

  Andi remembered that Thomas had made Coach Johnston look pretty bad when he’d interviewed him at the height of the soccer controversy. She had no desire to start any sort of controversy now.

  “Why don’t we sit down over there?” Thomas said, nodding in the direction of an empty section of bleachers on the baseline.

  “My mom’s going to be outside to pick me up in about five minutes,” Andi said. She wasn’t lying. If only the game had lasted a little longer, her mom would already be here.

  “Won’t take five minutes,” he said.

  They walked over and sat down.

  “I asked your coach to talk to me, too,” he began. “She was pretty rude. Said, ‘I don’t talk to the media.’ I said, ‘You’re a sixth-grade basketball coach and you don’t talk to the media?’

  “She said, ‘You’re all the same. Nothing but fake news.’ Sounded just like our president.”

  Andi rolled her eyes. She was
n’t surprised.

  “So, has she got a problem in general or a problem with you? Or both?”

  The honest answer was both. Andi went for a duck. “What makes you think either of those things is true?” she asked.

  Thomas laughed. “I know I’m young, but I’ve met a lot of people the last few years,” he said. “I’m guessing Barkann is the first person to ever ask her for an interview and I’m the second. People like that don’t stalk off unless they have something to hide or are afraid what the questions might be.”

  Andi liked Stevie Thomas. He’d been good to her in the fall. Now, though, she felt trapped. “We just lost our first game convincingly,” she said finally. “This is the first time she’s coached. I think she’s struggling with it a little bit.”

  Thomas nodded. “She didn’t make things any easier by not having her best players out there for most of the day.”

  Andi knew that was true. “We’re sixth graders,” she said. “It’s our first game.” She had a sudden thought: “Tom Brady was a sixth-round draft pick. If experts in the NFL can mess up like that, why can’t a sixth-grade gym teacher need some time to figure out who her best players are?”

  Now Thomas was grinning. “You’re a really smart kid, Andi. That’s a good answer.”

  Andi felt better. “Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Thomas said.

  “Why are you here? Don’t you write for the Washington Herald most of the time? How am I a story in any way in Washington?”

  “Remember, I do some writing for your friend Jeff’s dad’s old paper, too—the Daily News,” Thomas said. “But I’d also argue that what you went through in the fall wasn’t just a Philadelphia story.”

  “But soccer season’s over.”

  Thomas grinned. “And basketball season’s just starting.”

  11

  The bus ride back to school from Camden didn’t take very long since they were going against rush-hour traffic.

  Jeff sat near the back of the bus with Danny Diskin, Tavon Washington, and Mike Roth. Ron Arlow was up front, surprisingly surrounded by about half the team. Arlow’s posse had gradually pulled away from him as soccer season wore on; even his friends had grown weary of his “me, me, me” approach to soccer—and life.

  But Arlow clearly wasn’t disliked on the basketball team.

  The bus pulled up to school at five forty-five. Jeff had told his parents to pick him up at six and it was raining outside. He’d texted his mom when it was clear they were going to be back at school early, but she’d written back that she couldn’t make it before six and his dad was working.

  Danny, whose mom was waiting when they pulled up, offered him a ride, but he knew that was way out of their way, so he said no thanks. “I’ve got plenty of homework,” he said. “I’ll just get started.”

  His plan was to walk into the gym and sit on the bleachers, but then he remembered that the girls’ varsity game was going on. He walked in anyway, figuring he’d see how they were doing and maybe find out how Andi’s team had done.

  Instead, he almost bumped smack into Andi, who was on her way out, walking with someone who looked familiar. It took Jeff a second to recognize him. It was Stevie Thomas, the star kid reporter they had both met during soccer season. What the heck was he doing here?

  “Hey, how’d you guys do?” Andi asked.

  “Got killed. You?”

  Andi smiled. “Same. Jeff, you remember Stevie Thomas?”

  “I do,” Jeff said, shaking hands.

  “How’s your dad, Jeff?” Thomas asked.

  He had an easy smile and, Jeff remembered, a girlfriend who had been an Olympic swimmer.

  “He’s fine, thanks,” Jeff answered. “He’s at Drexel tonight.”

  Thomas nodded. “Yup. They’re playing LaSalle. Big game for both schools. I’m on my way there right now.”

  “Don’t you ever have schoolwork?” Jeff asked.

  Thomas laughed. “Oh yeah, I do. But college is different. Lot more flexibility. I only have one class tomorrow and it’s not until eleven o’clock.”

  Wow, Jeff thought, that’s a pretty good deal.

  Thomas shook hands with Andi and said, “Thanks for the time, Andi. Nothing to worry about, I’m not going to write anything—at least for now.”

  He headed for the door.

  “What was that about?” Jeff asked.

  “Walk me to the door,” she said. “My dad’s five minutes away. I’ll tell you.”

  * * *

  Andi walked Jeff through a shorthand version of the events of the afternoon: beginning with the starting lineup, then the locker room fight, Coach Axelson practically forcing Coach Josephson to put her and Lisa into the game, and, finally, the presence of Barkann and the NBC Sports–Philadelphia crew and Stevie Thomas.

  “I guess the only good news is that Stevie says he’s not going to write anything.”

  “For now,” Jeff added.

  “Yeah, for now. But I’m pretty sure Barkann will air the interview I did with him.”

  “But you said you didn’t say anything.”

  “I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean he won’t say something about Josephson not talking to him.”

  “You’re probably right. You want me to ask my dad if he can get Barkann to go easy—or not use the interview?”

  Andi shook her head. “Your dad’s done enough for me and I don’t think it’s fair to ask him to do that.”

  Jeff smiled. “You’re probably right. But I thought I’d offer.”

  Andi’s phone pinged. Her mom was outside.

  “See you tomorrow.” Then, without thinking, she kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a great friend,” she said as she ran for the door.

  She pulled the hoodie on her sweatshirt over her head and headed into the rain. The weather, she thought, was appropriate.

  * * *

  Jeff stood stock-still for a moment, rubbing the spot where Andi had kissed him. For a moment, a tingle had gone through him, but then he thought about her words as she went out the door: “You’re a great friend.”

  Was that just the first thing that came into her head? Or was she trying to make a point? You are my friend—period.

  Probably neither, he thought. The kiss was certainly a friendly kiss, a quick peck on the cheek. He was overthinking it, he thought. As usual.

  His phone pinged again. It was his mom, saying she was pulling up to the back door of the school—which was where the gym entrance was located.

  Coach C had insisted that everyone dress neatly to travel to another school—no jacket and tie, but a collared shirt and pants. Jeff was grateful that he’d worn the Eagles jacket his parents had gotten him for his birthday, but he wished he had a hoodie to cover his head. It was raining hard and, since it was two weeks before the shortest day of the year, it was pitch dark and cold outside.

  He hustled to the car, his mind still on Andi’s kiss.

  “Sorry about the game,” his mom said as he climbed in.

  “No big deal,” he said. “They were just better than us. A lot better.”

  “Who do you play Friday?”

  “Chester Heights.”

  “Are they good, too?”

  “No idea.”

  Jeff really had no interest in talking basketball. His mom wasn’t a big sports fan but was always interested in how her son was doing.

  “Mom, can I ask you something?” he said.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “It’s about girls.”

  Even in the dark, Jeff could see enough of his mom’s face to know she was surprised.

  “Ask away,” she said.

  “How can you tell if a girl likes you?”

  His mom laughed.

  “You mean likes you as a friend or…”

  “Likes you,” Jeff interrupted. “As more than a friend.”

  His mom was silent for a moment.

  “You know, the honest answer is, more often than not yo
u can’t tell.” She was smiling. “When I was a girl and I liked a boy, the last thing in the world I wanted to do was let him know I liked him.”

  “Was that when you were in sixth grade?”

  “Sixth grade, seventh grade, and all the way through college,” she said. “At least. I never let your father know I liked him.”

  Jeff knew his parents had met as seniors in college.

  “So how did he know he should ask you out?”

  “He didn’t. He took a chance. Of course, if he hadn’t asked me out when he did, I’d have probably asked him.”

  That was interesting. Andi had, more or less, asked him to the Halloween dance. Maybe she thought it was now his turn. Or maybe not. He might have to take a chance.

  His mom broke the silence. “Honey, is this about Andi?”

  The question surprised him—although there was no reason why it should. He had gone to the dance with Andi and they talked all the time. Not to mention how pretty she was.

  Still, it wasn’t a Mom question. It was more of a Dad question.

  “Yeah,” he said finally. “I guess so.”

  “Jeff, you’re both only eleven years old. Give it time.”

  “But what if one of the older guys asks her out?” he said. “They’re not eleven.”

  She laughed at that one. “Jeff, if there’s one thing I’m almost sure of, it’s that she’s already been asked out by older boys. And I’d imagine if she’s gone out with them, you’d know about it. I’m guessing that Andi’s mainly into her schoolwork and sports right now.”

  That actually made sense to Jeff. It wasn’t like Andi spent a lot of time sitting with a bunch of girls in a corner of the lunchroom giggling and talking about boys.

  He felt better.

  “Jeff,” his mom said, pulling him out of his daydreaming.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’ll know when the time is right.”

  They pulled into the driveway. Jeff felt better. At least he thought he felt better.