Chapter 53

Cal had told Hector that they would be at the same hotel, leaving it up to the groom if they wanted to get together. Hector mentioned the fact to Maddy when they managed to get out of bed mid-morning on Saturday, and she immediately got on the phone to Cheryl. The four ended up sharing a large brunch, giving the girls time to recover before heading for practice.

Having discussed it beforehand, Cheryl and Cal made no remarks about the newlyweds' first night, nor did they ask any questions. There were plenty of other things to talk about. The mood for the entire meal was so upbeat that just before they stood to leave, Cal said "Isn't it great to know you've found the right person for you?"

Cheryl almost attacked him right there, and she forgot all about being sore for practice when they got back to the room. After a vigorous interlude, she said "I'm not even going to shower. I hope the girls can all tell what I was doing from the smell."

Cal had arranged for Claire and Bert to drop his car by when it was time for the girls to go to practice. Naturally, the guys went with the girls, planning to watch practice for a few minutes, then work out.

As might be expected, the team was all set to give Maddy the hazing of her life. The only problem was that she was bulletproof. The most inventive gibes did nothing but widen her smile, and the attempts died down very quickly. Seeing Hector's bulky frame watching from the stands at first probably dampened the would-be tormentors' enthusiasm a bit, as well.

Cheryl was her usual intense, aggressive self. Maddy was a dynamo, even more active and vocal than usual. The team was excited about the tournament, but more than a little upset at the seedings. Being undefeated, having beaten some very good teams, and ranked twelfth nationally, they felt they should have headed one of the sub-regionals. Instead, they were in the same grouping as the number three ranked team, and had to play at that team's gym.

That happened to be the one team from whom Maddy had received a scholarship offer. They were rather notorious, even within the heavily lesbian women's athletic world. Their hitters were tall and muscular, and the entire team was mouthy and vulgar. Maddy would never have fit in there.

Actually, the slight in the seedings gave the coach the extra incentive that is often so valuable in preparing a team. The 'we'll show them' attitude guaranteed that no one's mind wandered from the drills, even Maddy's.

Cal and Hector worked out without a lot of conversation. At one point, Cal did ask "No regrets?"

"Not even close!" Hector answered emphatically. "Waking up with your lover is unbelievable. I'll never get tired of it."

"No argument here. Going to bed with her's not too bad, either, huh?" It was the closest thing to suggestive that was said the whole weekend.

Cal was berating himself that he had not made arrangements for another wash and set for Cheryl. She did not seem to mind, though, and they chatted lightly as he watched her work on her hair. As with most athlete's, she had chosen a style that was easy to maintain through all of her showers.

They both dressed up again, and this time Maddy and Hector joined them in walking to a nearby nice restaurant. "I can't believe you're giving up your scarce honeymoon time to eat with us," Cheryl teased her friend.

"We look at the rest of our lives as our honeymoon," Maddy came back quickly. What can you say to that?

On the way up their room afterward, Cal sensed a bit of tension in Cheryl, but he did not try to ask about it. He was certain that he would find out before too long.

Sure enough, in the afterglow of a tender and lengthy session, they were lying in their preferred face-to-face position with their bodies pressed together and their limbs entwined. "Have I got you in a good mood?" she asked.

"So, I'm going to find out what's been bugging you since dinner, huh?"

"Um, yeah. Promise to listen and not get upset, OK?"

"OK."

"I talked to the basketball coach last week," she told him.

"You're going to try out?" he asked in amazement.

"No, silly! The men's basketball coach. He still wants you."

"Why is this so important to you?" he asked, not upset, but more than a little puzzled.

"Look, don't take this as criticism, please, but you haven't found anything that makes you want to go for it, as far as a career, right? You could work for your dad, like Pete is doing. You've got the brains to be a lawyer if you decided to. Maybe an MBA? None of those things have really gotten you excited, have they?"

"I thought it took a lot of years to get to be a shrink."

"Funny. Honey, you could do one thing that only a small, small segment of the population could do," she told him.

"And that is?"

"Be an NFL player. You could have a fifteen year career and make enough money to do anything else you wanted."

"I could only be a kicker. Too slow for a DB."

"So? Have you looked at pro kickers' salaries? Tell me what other job you could get right out of school that pays like that and let's you compete."

"Hmmm."

"I know, you don't want to go through all of that time and work to just get in on kicking plays. But think of the hourly pay rate? No, forget the pay rate. The important thing is that sports is where you belong. Competition is the one thing that always gets you interested."

"You're talking football, now, but you started talking about basketball," he pointed out.

"It's competition - competition where you could excel. Someday, I can see you as and NFL coach, or maybe an NBA coach. I think the more high-level competition you can be involved in, the better will be your resume when you want one of those coaching jobs," she said earnestly.

"Hmmm," was once again his only reply.

"Now, here's where you might get mad at me," she warned. "If not for football, would you really see any reason to be here at school?"

"You forgot the number one reason - you," he said, thinking he had scored a point.

"I knew that, and it just proves my argument," she proclaimed. "I don't see my man as the kind who just follows his girlfriend around."

"Ouch!" he exclaimed. "If I didn't love you so damn much, I WOULD get mad right about now." Just in case, she was fondling his cock, hoping to drain off any anger that way. "So you think I should work toward a career in sports because competition is the only thing I really get excited about?"

"Can you tell me I'm wrong?" she challenged.

"Actually, I can barely think with you doing that," he said, trying to deflect the seriousness of the conversation. After a lengthy pause, he said and admitted "No, I can't say you're wrong.

"The problem is, competition has always been for enjoyment. I don't know if getting serious about it as a career would spoil the enjoyment," he complained.

"Face it. You will have to get serious about something within a couple of years. Like I said before, I can see you as a trial lawyer, maybe a DA. That's competitive. I can see you as a cop or a soldier because it meets your need for significance," she explained.

"Significance? How did you know about that? We haven't really talked about it."

"Maybe not directly, but I know," she assured him.

"Coaches can have to move around a lot," he stated, looking for anything to weaken her argument.

"That's OK. Doctors can be pretty mobile, too."

"Won't you feel bad if I'm competing and you're not?" he said, trying to find another chink.

"Nope. I love to compete. You know that. But I've always had my dream, my long-term goal. Sports is great while I'm on the way to that goal, and it's helping me get there. You don't seem to have a goal like that. I'm saying that you should make sports that goal, and do everything you can to build your resume."

"Why didn't someone warn me about the problems of living with a genius?" he groused.

She chose to ignore that comment and plunged right ahead on a different tack. "You don't know how wet my pussy gets watching you on the field or on the floor. A big part of the reason I want you to go out for basketball is so I won't have to wait until next fall for that tingle."

"But I won't be able to get hard watching you!"

"Sorry. Realistically, I'm not good enough for basketball. This fall has been so tough that I can't think about another sport, anyway. It would be crazy. My big dream is too important to take any more chances on not getting there."

The stimulation from her 'anger prevention' was getting to him, and the last few exchanges had cranked up the emotional level. He also needed a break from the conversation, and he knew just what kind of break he wanted. Rolling her over, he moved into position to enter her. It was unusual for him not to work at arousing her first. She understood, though, that he might have felt somewhat under attack and needed to take the lead. Not that she had any objection.

He did not 'take' her in an aggressive way, though. Once inside, he started talking as he took long, slow strokes. "I think you want me on the team just to beat Pat Clancy out of a job, don't you?" He thought he was teasing, but her expression quickly set him straight. The subject of Pat was still an open wound for her.

"I want you to embarrass that bastard!" she hissed. "But really, Honey, that's just the start. Every time you swish one of those three pointers, it feels almost like what you're doing right now. Unhhhhh!" The grunt followed a hard, quick thrust that broke his slow, gentle rhythm. "Do that! Do that while I think about long shots dropping through the hole!"

It was wonderful the way she could let herself go from an intense discussion to outright horniness. Just one of the many things that he loved about her. All of his training had conditioned him to be an opportunist, and this was a most enticing opportunity.

Because of their earlier session, he knew that he could go for a while, probably until his arms gave out. There was something he had to be sure of first, though. "Baby, you're not trying too make up for upsetting me, are you? You didn't, you know. I love you for saying those things. I needed to hear them."

"I wasn't worried," she assured him. "It's just that thinking about you scoring all those long shots... honestly, it gets me going. Now, YOU get going. Enough talk!"

Opportunity - invitation - plea - demand - who cared what it was? Beneath him was her sleek, taut body, every muscle seeming intent on drawing him inside of herself and wringing him dry. Her intimidating mind, her competitive fire, her caring spirit - all of that would have been enough. To have it all in such an erotic package made him the luckiest of men.

The wringing dry part would take a long, lovely while. One way or another, he would make sure that she got there, too. Of all of the wonderful things about her, the privilege of seeing her in orgasm was worth any amount of self-denial or discomfort.

As had often happened before, Cheryl converted any type of emotion into arousal. Apparently, she had gotten herself to quite a high level of anxiety before broaching the subject with him. In an amazingly short time, she was showing all of the signs. He knew, though, that the signs did not guarantee completion, so supporting himself on one arm, he moved the other hand down between them to her crotch.

He had learned that once he got her over the edge during intercourse, his hand was no longer needed. By thrusting strongly and rubbing their pubic bones together on each downstroke, he could provide plenty of stimulation to keep her orgasm going. That time, it all worked beautifully.

After rolling over, panting their way back to speech capability, and sharing endearments, Cal asked "So, the coach is OK with me not showing up until New Years?"

"He can't wait. His only good outside shooter is a strong forward that he needs to keep inside. He says he has no decent court leadership. Cal, you could be starting right away!"

"You were pretty sure you would convince me, huh?"

"I knew you would see the logic. And I knew you wouldn't have an ego problem listening to what I had to say," she told him.

They cuddled silently for a while, then he asked "Do you think I should go pro after next year - after you leave for med school?"

"You have to get your degree," she insisted.

"But the pro season still leaves half a year for school," he pointed out.

"What if I go to med school here?"

"Is that a possibility?"

"More so than I thought it was."

"Then maybe I would play for four years here," he stated.

Cal managed to catch the basketball coach on his second stop by the basketball office early Monday afternoon. Because he had a football schedule, he had only two afternoon classes, and they were early on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

He almost turned around and left when he saw the man's mood. The coach was definitely not happy. At Cal's questioning look, the coach asked "Did your girlfriend talk you into it? I sure hope so because I need some good news right now."

"Yes, she talked me into it. Did you doubt that she would?" Cal said.

"Well, that's one smart woman, and I was hopeful. You seemed dead set against it, though," the coach responded.

"She's thinking of becoming a psychiatrist, you know," Cal explained. "It sure worked on me. You, uh, seem to have gotten some bad news."

Waving a paper, the coach said "I just got notice that I will be losing two scholarship players at the end of the semesters, both starters. One's my point guard, such as he is. The other is a power forward, but the only decent three point shooter we have."

"Academics?"

"Yup. They don't have a chance of making it, now, the dumb shits. They both had good years last year, so they think they can get rich in the NBA and not have to study. They'll end up playing semi-pro for fifty bucks a game. Anyone on the football team who can play? How about Hector. If we just put him under the bucket, no one could get close." Cal had to admire the man's spirit for joking when he had just gotten such devastating news.

"I'm afraid basketball is not Hector's game. I know one guy, though. His name is Ryan Ulrich. He's six-five and slim, but he has been working out hard for a couple of months now. He was Pat Clancy's high school teammate."

"Not sure that's a good recommendation," the coach grumbled.

"Oh?"

"Let's just say I'm not sure I'll get my scholarship money's worth out of that kid," the coach replied. "I'm not sending his high school coach a Christmas card, either, after the sell job he did."

"Maybe Ryan made Pat look as good as he did in high school. I've seen them play together, and they are opposites. Ryan is controlled, heady, and smooth. He's on an academic scholarship, so he won't be flunking out on you."

"See if you can find him and bring him to see me. I don't want to waste any time, here."

Just like that, Cal was set to move right from football to basketball. He had not shot a basket since their summer Saturday morning pickup games. There was an open gym that was not crowded very early or very late, so he would have to modify his schedule for the next month. Being in shape was not a problem. If he could sharpen his shooting, he felt that the other basketball moves would come back to him quickly.

He knew that Cheryl was in the library right then, so he hurried to see if she knew how to contact Ryan. That started an almost comedic scramble. Cheryl did not know where Ryan was, so they called his home. His mother was at work, so they called Claire and asked her if she could somehow find Glenda Ulrich.

Claire seemed to know everyone in town, and less than twenty minutes later, Cal's cell rang with a call from Glenda. She knew Ryan's schedule, and Cal tore off to meet him after his current class let out.

Though it was not his usual style, Cal decided to steamroll Ryan. As Ryan left the classroom, Cal just told him "Come on. I'm taking you to the coach's office.

"Coach? Why? I don't play football."

"Basketball coach. You're trying out for the team. So am I."

"Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" Ryan protested. "I've got a class. And besides, I already decided to forget about basketball. And... and Pat's on the team."

"You're about to skip your first college class ever. You can't just forget basketball. I know. I tried, until Cheryl straightened me out. And Cheryl told me not to let Pat steal basketball from me. We'll run his ass right off the team, OK?"

"What makes you think I can make the team? Tryouts were a while ago."

"I convinced the coach that you're the next Bill Bradley," Cal insisted. "Think how impressed Sharon will be."

That was fighting dirty, but it was for a good cause and it worked. Within minutes, Cal was making the introductions. The coach wanted them at practice, which started in an hour and a half.

With Cal never letting up, they got to his car, picked up their clothes, and hurried back to the gym. The coach had arranged for them to get into the gym early and provided a bag of balls so they could shoot for a while.

All of the time in the car, Cal had been talking to Ryan about Pat and not letting Pat be a factor in how he played. "Look, he almost sucked you down with him, right?" When Ryan grunted in agreement, Cal went on "Well, you're big time pissed at him, right? Just show it by playing better than you ever have before."

"But I'm rusty!"

"Same here. How much weight have you gained since you started working out with Sharon?"

"Twelve."

"And how much have your weights increased?"

"A lot. But what if I shoot bricks?"

"It'll come back. Coach knows you're rusty. Let's have ourselves a ball. Your mom doesn't even know you're doing this. I only told her I needed to find you. Think how proud she'll be."

"Not if it screws up my grades."

"After a bad introduction, I think I know you well enough to know that will never happen," Cal assured him.

Neither Cal nor Ryan could resist keeping an eye on the locker room door as they shot, wanting to see Pat's reaction when he saw them. It was worth waiting for.

Pat actually took a small step backwards, then stood stock still. Unknown to Cal and Ryan, the coach had been watching through a one-way window as they shot. He had found out all about Pat's brushes with the law and had come within an ace of booting him from the team.

In the end, he had decided it would be hypocritical to cut Pat, considering some of the legal scrapes a couple of his other scholarship players had been through. Further, he had gone straight to Harlan Clancy and learned the terms of the agreement.

The coach had indirectly found out about Pat from Cal's remarks, and he realized that using the incidents as a basis for kicking Pat off of the team would make Cal in technical violation. At the time, he still had hopes that Cal would change his mind and join the team.

He was a good coach, and had been doing working at the college level for eight years. In that time, he had usually taken his teams to winning records, but no championships or tournament appearances. The school did not have a strong basketball tradition, and he had been unable to build one.

The last few years, in particular, he realized that he had fallen into the talent search trap. He had gotten some highly regarded recruits who were indeed exceptional athletes. What he had not gotten, though, was discipline and leadership. He also had the fear that his players were too often in it for show, rather than a true competitive drive. Add to that the number of top players that went pro after only a couple of years, and his job had provided more frustration than satisfaction.

Those fears were what made him so interested in Cal. He was good friends with the football coach. The football coach would never say it to Cal's face, but he credited Cal with being the competitive spark that changed the whole character of the team. True, Hector was also very responsible, but Cal was the one who had 'ignited' Hector.

If Cal regarded Ryan highly, the coach was willing to accept that assessment.

The coach was very interested in seeing how the three men handled their meeting and the subsequent presence on the same team. He knew of Ryan's involvement at the apartment. How each reacted would have a big affect on the allotment of playing time for the season.

Pat's initial reaction was near-catatonia. That changed to anger after several seconds. The coach had come out into the gym and Pat literally charged at him. "What are they doing here?" Pat demanded.

"I invited them," the coach said, purposely not reacting to Pat's anger.

"Why? B... Banner's a football player, and Ryan can't make it at this level." Pat declared.

"I need outside shooting and I need floor leadership. Banner can give me those things. As for Ryan: it seems he may have helped make earn you a scholarship. Maybe he can help you make this team. Or maybe he's the one I should have given the scholarship to."

That was the strongest thing the coach had said to a player in a long time. He had been on Pat's case from the very first practice, knowing something of his reputation, but he had never been so openly critical.

Like just about any job, the coach's job was not just about basketball. Having a local star on the team was a nearly essential factor in generating decent fan support. He had decided that Pat was the best local player from the previous year's crop. Pat's high school coach had talked only about Pat, never mentioning Ryan.

The boy's selfishness and low flash point had showed up immediately and would be nothing but trouble in the college game. He already had more than enough selfishness before Pat came along. Point guard, which was what he had in mind for Pat, was the one place where selfishness could be least tolerated.

If he made it at all, Pat was at least a year from being ready for significant playing time. The coach was not thrilled with the way his current point guard was playing that year, and he was losing him any way. For better or worse, Cal would be starting as soon as he was done with football.

After delivering his statement, the coach stared calmly and steadily into Pat's eyes, waiting for a reaction. Pat already understood that the coach was not one to talk back to, having gotten that message quite painfully in the first week. All he could do was stomp angrily away, which he did with the maximum drama.

When all of the players were assembled, the coach informed them. "This is Cal Banner, whom most of you recognize." Cal nodded. "He will be joining us after the bowl game. This Ryan Ulrich, who will be working out with us on a tryout basis. Let's get to work."