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1
BEN
The ball leaves my hand smoothly and I stand back, watching it arc high in the air. It feels good leaving my fingertips, and it reaches its apex then falls like a star from the heavens, dropping softly through the net. A small smile curls the corners of my mouth.
“Damn, boy. That’s seven in a row from deep,” he says. “Gotta say, it’s a hell of a lot better bein’ on a team with you than playin’ against you.”
Gabe White, the team’s seven-foot center, gives me a high five, a wide smile on his face. I’ve played against him plenty of times in college and throughout my career in the league, and he’s always been tough on me. We’ve played against each other enough that we’ve developed a healthy respect for each other’s games—and for each other as people. He’s forced me into some of my worst games as a pro, so I agree that it’s better to be playing with him than against him.
“With you drainin’ shots from outside and me bangin’ bodies and throwin’ it down inside, we’re gonna be potent this season, boy.”
“Yes, sir,” I reply. “That’s the plan.”
“Shit,” Eric Greene scoffs as he walks by. “I ain’t impressed.”
Eric gathers with a couple of the other guys on the sideline, casting dark looks my way. They don’t even bother trying to hide the fact that they’re talking shit about me. But whatever. It’s not like I haven’t dealt with punks on my team before.
“Don’t sweat him,” Gabe says. “He’s just afraid you’re gonna take his spot.”
“Hey, man. I didn’t ask to be here. I had no control over it.”
“I hear you, man. I get it. But he’s a hothead, and he can be a nasty little prick, especially when he’s feeling threatened. So just watch your back, bro.”
“Appreciate you, man.”
“Don’t worry. I got you, bro. Glad to have you on the team.”
Eric Greene is solid enough as a player, but he can’t create his own shots. He’s streaky shooting the ball, and he doesn’t distribute it for shit. The way I see it, the team wouldn’t have traded for me if they thought they already had a capable scorer and facilitator. Given that we play the same position, he’s probably right to feel threatened. I may not have had a choice to come to LA, but now that I’m here, I’m not going to be sitting on the bench.
I spend the next half hour doing sprints and shooting from various distances, trying to get comfortable in a new building. I also spend a little time getting to know some of my new teammates. Most of the guys are cool. Easy to talk to and get along with. They’re just guys working on their craft, trying to get better, and of course, putting themselves and the team in a position to chase a ring. It’s been years since LA has won a title, but we’ve got a pretty talented group, and I think if we can come together as a team and work a little magic as one cohesive unit, we’ve got a chance.
Of course, given that Eric and a couple of the younger guys are standing off to the side, forming their own little team within the team, the whole working as one cohesive unit thing doesn’t look like it’s going to be a sure thing. I’ve known guys like Eric my whole career. He’s not about chasing the rings or leaving a legacy. He’s not about being the best. Eric is a peacock who’s more interested in the highlight reel plays. He’s more concerned with endorsement deals and maxing out his next contract. He’s not about wins. He’s about dollar signs.
I hate guys like him.
“All right, everybody, bring it in. Let’s go, let’s go.”
Coach Holman calls us over to the sideline. Since the team has some new faces this season, he spends some time having us introduce ourselves to each other and going over his coaching philosophy. Like me, Coach Holman is in his first year with the team and is taking his time getting to know all of us. I know him a little bit. He was an assistant with Dallas, the team that drafted me out of Kentucky eight years ago. I think his familiarity with me and my game is why he orchestrated the trade that brought me here.
“Okay, fellas,” Coach says. “Get to know your teammates. These are your brothers, and if we’re going to give ourselves a chance to win, we’re going to need to come together and gel as a single unit. Are we good?”
Everybody nods and mumbles their agreement. Even though we’re all grown-ass men, with so many new faces on the squad, there’s a bit of that awkward energy you get on the first day in a new school. Eric is standing with his two cronies though, holdovers from last season’s team, sneering and smirking as they continue talking their shit, albeit quietly.
“All right,” Coach says. “Get into your position groups and run the drills your coaches tell you to run. It’s a new year and everybody’s starting with a clean slate. I want to see what you’ve got before I start thinking about shaping the final roster and doling out minutes. Let’s go.”
The huddle breaks and everybody heads over to their position coaches. Kneeling down, I tie my shoes a little tighter, wanting to make sure I’m strapped up good and tight just in case Coach has me run one-on-ones against Eric. I want to be at my best.
“Ben. Hey, Ben.”
I look up to see a man in khakis, a blue polo, and white sneakers walking toward me. He’s maybe six feet tall, a little soft around the middle, and probably in his early forties. He holds his hand out as I get to my feet.
“Graham Driscoll. I’m with the team’s PR department,” he says. “We’re really glad to have you on the squad this year, man.”
“Glad to be here,” I reply as I shake his hand. “What can I do for you?”
“We’re so excited to have you here, and we want the people of LA to get to know you too. You’re going to be one of the faces of the franchise.” He sounds overly excited. “To get the ball rolling on your coming out part, we’ve set up an interview for you with the team’s beat writer.”
I know being in the media spotlight is part of the job. Exposure comes with the territory. But it’s the part of this gig I’ve always hated the most. I’ve never liked the spotlight. I don’t like having to do interviews or sitting for post-game pressers. I know people want to hear from the players. They want to hear what we have to say about why we succeeded or why we failed. But I’m here to play. I’m not here to talk about it or dissect my play.
