The Schoolyard

    A car pulled up and stopped. Marty paid attention. He didn't want any trouble.
    The man in the car watched Marty. He opened the door and stepped out. He was young, probably in his thirties, and well dressed. He had a sport coat, crisp white shirt, and athletic looking tie. He walked toward the gate in the chain link fence.
    Marty thought cop. He was scared.
    “Hey, young man.”
    Marty stopped dribbling and looked up.
    “Yeah?”
    “I been watching you shoot. I been watching you at ACC, too.”
    Marty struggled to remember where he had seen this guy.
    “You been watching me?”
    The man nodded.
    “Why?”
    It was warm, and the man took off his coat and flipped it over his shoulder, moving closer.
    “Because you’re good.”
    Then, it hit him. This guy was the basketball coach at ACC.
    The man came closer and extended his hand.
    “I’m Bill Pergament.”
    Marty reached out and shook his hand.
    “Nice to meet you.”
    “Same here.”
    “Can we sit and talk a minute?”
    Marty nodded and they went to the wooden bench.
    “Look. It’s all good. It’s Marty isn't it?”
    “Yes, sir,” Marty said, wondering how he knew his name.
    “I just wanted to tell you that you’ve got talent. I been watching and I know.”
    “Thanks.”
    “And I wanted to ask you something.”
    Bill scratched his forehead.
    “Why haven’t you come out for the team?”
    Marty shifted the ball from his left to right arm.
    “Never thought I had a chance.”
    “Well, you do. A good one. Does that change your mind?”
    Marty was not used to hearing good things.
    “Well?”
    “I guess.”
    “Great. I wrote everything down.”
    Bill handed Marty a paper and stood up.
    “I’ll be looking for you.”
    Bill stood up and slapped Marty on the back. He put his coat on and walked back to the car. He started the engine, and gave a wave as he pulled the car into traffic.
    Marty unfolded the paper. It had the coach’s name and phone number, the time of the first tryout, and instructions on what to bring. On the bottom there was scribbled handwriting, “If you need a ride, give me a call. Coach.”