Author's Foreword and Dedication: Although written before I had met and grew to love Rebecca Anne Stewart; affectionately called Becky by all those who knew her in the chatroom. The resemblance between her and the character Becky Taylor was and is uncanny. So I will dedicate this story to her, my beloved friend and playmate, Becky Stewart. You are still very loved and very much missed…

  

ONE LAST SHOT

by Maggie O'Malley

  

PART ONE

Ten year old Becky Chandler stood at the free throw line waiting for the referee to hand her the ball. She was the only player on the court, as time had already expired. Normally when the buzzer sounds and time expires, the game is over; however, unusual situations can occur that can prolong the game beyond its scheduled conclusion.

In basketball, a game cannot end in a tie or on a shooting foul. Both were prolonging today's game. The final outcome of today's game laid squarely on the shoulders, or more aptly, the left hand of young Becky.

The young player had chased down a long rebound, turned, and fired a high arching fifteen-foot "Hail Mary" from the baseline, as time expired. Not only did her prayer get answered in the form of a dead on swish, but the bigger defensive player, in a frantic attempt to block her shot, crashed into her just as she released the ball. The obvious contact drew a foul on the Braves' player and placed Becky on the free throw line with one shot to win the game.

Technically, if she missed her free throw, the Knights wouldn't lose. Being still tied, the game would then go into an overtime session, but Becky knew with two girls having fouled out, and Mandy playing hurt, the Knights could not survive three more minutes against the deeper and more talented Braves. No, if the Knights were to go on to play for the state championship, Becky's last shot would have to take them there. Having the fate of your team and of a season, resting on your shot, would put an enormous amount of pressure on an adult, but for a ten-year-old girl, it would seem to be overwhelming. Yet, Becky wasn't like most ten-year-old girls. She had dealt with great pressure situations for most of her life. In fact, she had faced this very same situation before. It was many years and a whole life ago, but the painful memory was still fresh in her mind.

**********

The year was 1978. It was the era of bell-bottoms and black lights. Star Wars and Saturday Night Fever was the hot movies to see. Kiss battled the Bee Gees and the Bay City Rollers for teen music supremacy, and the Washington Bullets wrapped up their first NBA title that spring.

Yet, for Brian Baker, the defining moment of 1978 came while standing on the free throw line, and alone on the court. It was a chance for the young sophomore guard to finally measure up in the eyes of his teammates, his coach, and his father. He had been given the chance to be the kind of storybook hero that every kid who's ever shot hoops dreams of. Yet a more unlikely hero than Brian Baker would be hard to find. The five foot, eight-inch, one hundred-ten pound guard was the last player off the Pine Haven bench. During the regular season, he played in but a handful of games, and then for just the last few minutes of a contest long since decided.

Brian really wasn't a bad ball player. There was no questioning his heart, or of player ethic. He loved the game, as much as any player out there, but with his slight frame, he was routinely outmuscled, and out ran by the more muscular, more athletic boys. Physical problems weren't Brian's only nemesis. Among his own teammates he was somewhat of an outcast. Teenagers are pack animals by nature, and adept at sensing those teens who don't belong, or are perceived as being inferior. Once singled out and deemed inferior, these kids are subject to extreme persecution, and acts of cruelty. Brian was obviously different, and they knew it. In their eyes, he would never belong.

Brian was quiet, shy, sensitive, and nearly impossible to anger. He professed no interest in drugs, booze, fast cars, or faster women. Actually, he was terrified of driving as a result of a car accident he had been in as a child. So while most guys were working to build an automotive form of their manhood, Brian pedaled the same bicycle he'd ridden since junior high. He did have a girl in his life. She was his best friend, but she played on the girl's basketball team, which, in the eyes of most of the boys, made her true feminine identity suspect and her sexual preference most likely lesbian. She was quite definitely not acceptable as suitable girlfriend materiel among an elitist group like the boy's varsity basketball team.

Brian failed to not only live the role of "high school jock"; he failed to look it too. Being shorter and lighter than most boys his age didn't help his male prowess. While most boys were in the midst of a growth spurt that would make them physically men, Brian's body had yet to be sculpted by testosterone. He was athletic, but too slender, and he lacked the broad shoulders and barrel chest covered with hair most of his teammates were developing. His skin was still smooth, and while most guys cultivated side burns and nursed a chocolate milk moustache, Brian didn't have enough facial hair to shave. Shoulder length, sandy brown hair, straight bangs, and large blue eyes, were attributes too feminine on a face lacking any real male qualities to tone them down. His under developed body turned showering after practice into a daily trip through hell.

No matter how fast Brian tried to make it through the showers, he was never quick enough to escape without someone commenting on his manhood, or lack of it. It became so painful, that Brian quit showering after practice, half way through his sophomore season. Brian certainly didn't fit in with his teammates or most of his male classmates, and he faired little better with his coach.

Coach Lynch did not like Brian, didn't think he belonged on the team, and didn't hide the fact that he felt that way. Brian became his personal whipping boy, constantly and mercilessly berated for every actual or perceived mistake Brian would make. If Lynch would have had his say, Brian would have been gone on the first cut, but he didn't have his say. The athletic director made it quite clear to Lynch that Brian had better make the team or else. Brian Baker's ability never got him past the first cut; it was all a matter of genetics. More accurately, he was the son of Bryce Baker; Pine Haven's all time leading scorer, and living sports legend.

Actually, having to keep Brian turned out better for Coach Lynch, as he could take out his vengeance on a daily basis.

Coach Lynch knew Bryce well. He had played along side him for four years, although it might be more apt to say he played in his shadow, as did most of Bryce's teammates. Bryce had been and still was arrogant and condescending, and Lynch never forgot the way Bryce treated his teammates or him as today's team's coach. Lynch would have loved to cut the son of the great Bryce Baker, but the athletic director was looking for a way to boost attendance for the losing program, and having the son of a legend on the team seemed like a good way.

Being the son of a high school sport legend was no more enjoyable for Brian, than was being coached by a man who hated him because of it. And Bryce Baker had expected big things from his son, and not just on the basketball court, but in his social life too. Yet, by age 16, it was becoming apparent to Bryce that his son was never going to be the athlete or popular young man with the ladies that he had been. Brian failed each expectation his father had set for him, and as he became more withdrawn, his father became angrier and then sarcastic and finally more and more verbally cruel. Yet, as Brian stood at that free throw line, he had one chance, possibly his last chance to turn it all around, with his teammates, his coach, his father, and himself. It was a flat out miracle that he even had this chance. As with most heroes, fate played an all too prominent role in Brian's chance for redemption. With eight seconds to go, Pine Haven was down one point, but had possession of the ball. Not surprisingly, Brian was at the end of the bench as usual. He hadn't played one minute in this game or in either of the two tournament games preceding this one.

Brian had looked on, along with the some 7,000 Pine Haven faithful who had packed their home gym, as the Pioneer's worked for one last shot. With the clock ticking towards zero, Steve Smith had shaken his man and made a back door cut to the hoop. Chris Pearson saw him break and laid a perfect pass just above the rim. All eyes were on Smith as the ball came to his outstretched hands. Just as he was about to slam home the final two points and vault his team into the next round, a Yorktown player cut his legs out from under him, sending the ball bouncing high off the iron, and Smith crashing hard to the floor, as the buzzer sounded.

Both benches emptied, and fans poured from the stands as referees desperately tried to regain control. After about five minutes, order was restored, and the team doctor had examined Steve. He was going to be all right but his right wrist was fractured in the fall. He would be unable to shoot the two free throws he had been awarded from the foul. According to state high school rules, "If a player is unable to shoot foul shots due to an injury, then the opposing coach is allowed to select a player at his discretion to shoot the free throws."

The Yorktown coach surveyed the Pine Haven bench and conferred with his assistant before settling his eyes on Pine Haven's last man, Brian Baker. The Yorktown coach informed the referee of his choice, and the referee in turn informed Coach Lynch. Lynch squeezed and broke the grease pen in his hand, before turning his eyes to Brian and shouting his name. Brian's eyes grew wide, and a lump formed in his throat as he pulled off his warm-ups and approached the coach. Lynch was seething with rage as he regarded his young player.

Placing his face within an inch of Brian's, he spoke through clenched teeth. "All right Baker, God knows you don't deserve to even wear this uniform, but you've been given a chance to be a real hero, just like your old man." He smiled sarcastically, "You're a smart guy... do some math for me. You got two free throws. Hit one and we're tied. Hit both of them, we win, and you're the hero." His voice lowered to a whisper, "You miss them both, we lose the game, and 7,000 people will see what a real loser you are. Now get out there and make those free throws."

On the heels of the world's worst inspirational speech, Brian walked onto the court, head down, eyes focused on the glare off the parquet floor. The crowd was cheering wildly until they saw it was Brian Baker entering the game. Cat calls, boos, and moans rained down from the crowd, as the referee handed Brian the ball. Bryce Baker, who had spent most of the game starring down at the bleachers, stood when he noticed his son entering the game. Cassie, Brian's best friend and fellow hoops junkie, stood next to Bryce with her hands clasped together, saying a silent prayer for Brian.

The fans finally quieted, and held their collective breaths, as Brian stood alone on the line. His palms were sweating, and he felt like his heart would come bursting through his chest at any moment. He tried to clear his head. He pictured making the shot in his mind. He had made this shot a thousand times before in practice, but this was for a trip to the state capital, a chance at a title, and in front of 7,000 people. He imagined he was back on Cassie's court, where hitting the last shot meant nothing more than bragging rights for the day. There were seldom more than Cassie and him in attendance, and he was confident there.

"Breathe," he thought, "For God's sake, breathe before you pass out." He let out a sigh, dribbled the ball three times, bent his knees and squared to shoot. One thing he knew, he 'had' to make the first shot. That guaranteed at least an overtime session, and took most of the pressure off the second shot. Brian locked his gaze on the front of the rim and lofted the ball toward it. As the ball left his fingertips he prayed, "Oh God, please let it go in, just for once in my life, let me do something right!"

All eyes in the gym were trained on the ball as it headed toward the rim. It was dead on, but just a little strong, as it kissed off the back of the iron, and then hit the inside front of the rim. The ball ricocheted back in forth like a giant leather pinball, before jumping straight up, rolling slowly off the rim, and finally bouncing to the floor.

Boos and groans from a crowd that sensed victory slipping away, filled the gym. Brian's heart sank, and his knees buckled. The referee handed the ball back to Brian, the crowd quieted again. Brian tired to reach back for confidence that neither his coach nor father had instilled within him. He raised the basketball from his chest, but found it now weighed a hundred pounds, and the goal had risen to fifty feet in height. He arched the ball toward the rim, extending his left hand out to follow the flight, but it was hopelessly short and flat. The ball bounced hard off the rim, taking with it, Pine Haven's title hopes, and Brian's last chance for redemption. The Yorktown team and their small following of fans cheered wildly. The Pine Haven fans booed, while cups and programs rained down onto the court. The bleachers had become a sea of angry fans. Brian's teammates dropped their heads in disappointment, and Coach Lynch fired his clipboard across the court.

Bryce Baker, just for one moment, seemed to have fatherly compassion in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by the fiery anger that so often greeted Brian. He stormed through the exiting crowd and onto the court. Brian had collapsed to his knees, buried his face in his hands, and was sobbing uncontrollably, when Bryce walked up to him.

"Damn it Brian, how many times have I told you arch the ball on a free throw? All those hours of practice we put in...." Bryce's voice trailed off as he noticed his son was crying loudly, "Jesus Brian, get up off the floor and dry your eyes. I work with some of these people. It's going to be hard enough on me tomorrow as it is!"

Bryce's words drifted into Brian's mind, and he looked up at his father. Sixteen years of pent up anger exploded when he finally addressed Bryce. "How hard it's going to be on you…How freaking hard it's going to be on you!" Brian shook as his voice filled with rage. "You want to know about hard, Dad? Let me tell you about hard. Hard is playing for a coach who carries a sick twenty-year vendetta against your father, and takes it out on you every time you walk into practice. Hard is being ridiculed, humiliated, hated and beaten by classmates and teammates who think you are some kind of queer, sick bastard who threatens their fragile manhood." Brian smiled for a moment before speaking. "Funny thing is, even while they are beating the hell out of you, you know they are still scared of you." Brian shook his head, gulped for air, and wiped the tears from his eyes, before starring directly into the eyes of his dumbstruck father. "But you know what the hardest thing of all is? That's growing up without a father. I never had a father. I was raised by a damn living legend! The greatest player to walk the halls of Pine Haven High School! You know, I remember when we moved here. You said it was so I could follow in your footsteps, and make my mark at the same school you did. Well God knows I tried...I tried so damn hard, but I was never good enough was I? Never good enough to be the son of a legend!"

Bryce was still reeling, but he tried to collect his thoughts enough to respond. Brian wasn't finished and wasn't about to give his father a chance to stop him now. "You always said it was all for me, but now I realize that was just bullshit. It was 'never' about me! It's always been about what 'you' wanted! You said you wanted me to go on and play ball for West Virginia. I could get a degree and be a college basketball star. That's not my dream. It's yours and you blew it when they kicked you off the team your freshman year. You just want a second chance through me!"

There, he'd said it. His father the high school star didn't last one season at the university. His "one man team" attitude didn't fly at the college level, and he was eventually kicked off as a disciplinary action. He quit school before his freshman year was complete. This was one thing that was never mentioned in the Baker household, but Brian wasn't holding anything back now. "You know Dad, come to think of it, I was never really on this team. That was you too, wasn't it? Hell, you should have walked out of the stands and made the free throw shots! We all know that 'you' would have hit them...So, what are you waiting for, Legend? Why don't you go over there, pick up the ball and make the damn free throws! But most of all, will you just leave me the hell alone!"

Bryce Baker's hands were balled into fists, his face was filled with rage, and he was shaking. Brian expected the worst beating of his life and right there in the middle of the school gym, but much to his surprise, he didn't get it. He didn't even get hollered at. The legendary Bryce Baker drew back a fist, regarded his son, and then lowered his arm. Bryce shook his head. The rage left him and was replaced by pain.

In a cloud of despair, Bryce just turned and walked toward the exit while his son collapsed on the floor, choking and sobbing.

Cassie, tears running in broad rivulets down her own cheeks, knelt down beside her fallen friend and hugged him. She sat there holding him tightly, gently rocking side-to-side until everyone else had left the gym.

Gently, she finally nudged, "C'mon Brian.... let's go home."

Both rose up off the floor and Brian looked into Cassie's eyes as he spoke. "Okay Cass...I don't care where we go. We'll go any place you want, but please Cass, don't make me go to my house."

Cassie put her head on Brian's shoulder; as they walked out of the gym, arm in arm.

A few disgruntled fans milling about the parking lot caught sight of Brian and Cassie as the two headed toward Cassie's light blue firebird. A rock ricocheted off the passenger's door, as Brian waited for Cassie to open it from the inside. Another one whizzed by Brian's head as he turned to find the students heading his way in a trot.

Brian got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as both fear and anger gripped him. He thought, "Why can't they just leave me alone. It's not like I tried to miss those shots. Oh God, I don't want to fight anyone. I don't want to fight anyone!"

Brian's concentration was broken when Cassie opened the door and motioned him in. "Hurry up Brian! C'mon, get in!"

Brian jumped into the passenger side bucket seat, and Cassie hit the gas before Brian could get the door closed. Cassie scattered gravel and dust all over the parking lot as she left her pursuers in the rear view mirror. Brian sat with his head down, starring silently into his lap. Cassie was anything 'but' silent.

She was livid, and her emotions poured out as she spoke. "Oh...these people are such jerks! It makes me so mad! How can they stand there, cussing, booing, and throwing things like that? You know, I'd like to see any one of them stand out there and have to make those shots. I bet they'd be so scared they wouldn't even be able to shoot the ball. If they had any idea of how hard we work, how hard we try, how hard it is to lose, and how much it hurts to lose, they wouldn't act like that. I mean some of those brain dead acid heads are so fried they don't even realize they're at a basketball game, but I saw parents, and grandparents shouting hate, and throwing things at you... " Cassie's voice trailed off as she glanced over at her best friend and realized she was just making him relive the nightmare.

She forced up a smile and spoke, "Hey Brian, you want to crash at my house tonight. Mom and Dad won't care. Tomorrow's Saturday, we can stay up late, maybe get some pizza, watch movies, and shoot hoops... " Cassie cringed as the word "hoops" escaped her. "Sorry Brian, first I go on and on about the game, and then I ask you if you want to shoot hoops. Guess sometimes I just go off without thinking."

Brian gazed up at his best friend, his only friend, and regarded her. It he had to choose one word to describe her it would have to be "passion." She showed it in everything she did, from the love and loyalty she felt toward her family and best friend, to the way she played basketball whenever she stepped on a court. You could hear the passion in her voice when she spoke of things she loved. You could see it in her green eyes when they sparkled with strong emotions.

Those deep green eyes were the perfect compliment to her strawberry blonde hair. More often than not, she kept it up in a neat, tight ponytail with straight bangs cut just above her eyebrows. A few stray strands fell just in front of each ear, and framed her round freckled face. Aside from her emerald beauties, her most powerful feature, if not most prominent, was her smile. It would start as an impish grin, just turning at the corners of her mouth, before becoming a full fledged, disarming smile. Brian had found out that the combination of her eyes and magical smile, were almost impossible to resist. No matter how angry or sad Brian might be, Cassie could always get him to smile, just by smiling at him.

In Brian's eyes she was beautiful; maybe not the "Farah Fawcett" poster beautiful that every guy seemed to lust for, but more of a natural beauty, that Brian thought was very attractive. She had a healthy glow from the passion within, and the sun that had lightly tanned her face. A clear complexion gave her a 'pixie' glow and radiance that no amount of Max Factor could duplicate. She didn't have the willowy body of a fashion diva, or even a disco queen, as her hips and waist were never destined to wear a size 5. At sixteen years old, she was nearly as tall as Brian, but carried a stockier, more athletic frame and outweighed him by twenty pounds. To Brian, she was one of those rare girls who could be strong, competitive, and athletic, without sacrificing her softness or femininity in either appearance or personality. Added to all that was a "Peter Pan" quality that made children adore her, and to Brian, simply put, she was the perfect girl.

The teens had become friends from the moment they met. Brian's family had just moved into the house next door to Cassie, and Brian was sitting next to his second story bedroom window, depressed and starring at a school picture of a friend he had left behind when his family moved into Jamestown. Lost in his despair, he hadn't seen nor heard young Cassie riding her bike in the lot separating their two houses. But she had noticed him, when she saw the moving van unloading furniture into the "old Turner place", and quite frankly, had liked what she had seen.

Noticing him sitting in the window she had tried to get his attention by riding back and forth on the trails directly in front of his view. Having failed that, she had selected a more direct, "Cassie" approach, and began pelting the siding and his window with small pebbles. The "Cassie's Attention Getter" assault had been a success. Brian had turned and looked down to see the smiling, freckled face of his assailant. The boy had opened the window and leaned his head out.

He was greeted by a wave, and a friendly voice. "Hey, what ya doing?"

Brian, still lingering in the fog of depression, answered with little emotion. "That's a silly question. We're moving in."

Cassie, noticeably dissatisfied with that reply, put her hands on her hips, rolled her eyes, and clicked her tongue, before speaking again. "I know.... that! I mean what are 'you' doing?"

Cassie's words finally penetrating Brian's fog and he gave her a more suitable answer. "Just sitting here, looking at the picture of my friend from my old neighborhood. I sure do miss him."

Cassie considered his sad words for a moment, and answered as only Cassie could. "Wow, that's sad, but you know....sitting there and looking at his picture, ain't gonna bring him back." Cassie's smiled broadened. "Wouldn't you rather come out and ride the wild hills with me?"

Cassie's words and their directness caught Brian a little off guard, and he stammered a bit. "Well....I um...um...."

Cassie jumped on his indecision. "You 'do' know how to ride a bike don't ya?"

Brian answered quickly, "Of course I know how to ride a bike."

Cassie wasn't through yet. "Do you got a bike?"

Brian again answered quickly. "Sure I do. Got a Schwinn Stingray!" He said the last sentence with some pride, as Schwinn was considered top of the line and The Stingray was popular among young trail bike riders.

Cassie had him hooked now. "Well...are you gonna come out and ride?"

Brian had fell victim to her charms. It was the first time, but by no means to be the last time. "I guess so. I just got to ask my mom." Brian had pulled his head back into the window and started to close it when Cassie hollered up.

"Hey, what's your name? Mine's Cassie."

Brian had quickly stuck his head back out the window and hollered. "I'm Brian, Brian Baker."

Cassie had nodded and said, "I'll be waiting, and I hope you really can ride cause some of these hills are awesome."

Brian's had face lit up, and he carried a smile all the way down the back stairs and into the kitchen. It was time; Brian hadn't smiled since they'd left the old house. Cassie had rescued him from his lonely room. It would be the first of many rescues by Cassie. Over the next 12 years, she was the one person who he knew would always be there.

A slight smile pursed at Brian's lips; a picture formed in his mind. It was of a knight in shining armor approaching his house, but instead of being astride a fiery steed, this brave knight had ridden a light blue girl's bicycle as a mount. The fantasy knight dismounted, set the kickstand, and gazed up to the tower window. Then the knight tossed several pebbles at the window. Seated at the window, in deep despair, was the fairy tale princess. She had a tall hat, elegant gown, and flowing brown tresses. When she turned to face the valiant knight, the princess bore the face of Brian Baker. As the princess gazed down, the knight removed his helmet and strawberry blonde curls fell over the knight's shoulders. A familiar smile graced his lips. It was unmistakably Cassie.

The brave knight returned the gaze of the isolated princess, dropped to one knee, placed one hand over his heart; the other extended toward the princess. The white knight calmly prepared to speak, and then in the unmistakable voice of ten-year-old Cassie utters, "So ya wanna ride bikes, or what?"

It was so strangely true and yet too ridiculous to take serious; Brian began giggling uncontrollably. Cassie with one hand on the steering wheel and one eye on the road, eyed her friend suspiciously, "What.... What's so funny?"

Brian, trying to suppress the urge to continue laughing, answered in his best medieval English, "Why, nothing t'all, Me Lord Lancelot!"

Cassie, a bit confused, but glad to see her new friend smiling, returned the smile with one of her own and quipped, "I don't 'even' want to know what that's all about."

Reaching over with her right hand, she took his hand in hers and spoke. "C'mon you goof. Let's pick up a pizza from Li'l Italy's, and we'll go back to my house." She then added with that magical smile, "And oh yeah...you're buying!"

Thus it was the brave knight had rescued the helpless princess, and all it cost the princess was a large pepperoni with extra cheese. It really didn't matter how the knight made it to the princess, be it by a light blue bicycle, or a 1976 firebird of the same color, the princess knew the knight would always be there.

****************

The referee handed Becky the ball. She shot a glance over to her team's bench. She saw her seven teammates holding hands, and saying silent prayers. Next to them, stood Cassie, and although it had been nearly thirty years and another life ago, she still had the sparkling green eyes, magic smile, and Peter Pan aura. She met Becky's gaze, and then gently nodded, as if to repeat the words she had just whispered .

Becky smiled back at Cassie before turning to face the basket. Cassie's words were fresh in her mind, "We've practiced this a million times..." In reality, they probably had shot about a million foul shots. Not long after they discovered their mutual love of wild-trail bike riding, they realized they were both hoop junkies. Each one had come about it differently, but both loved the sport.

For Brian, the only child of Charlotte and Bryce Baker, basketball wasn't an option it was his preordained destiny. Bryce, basketball legend, from the same high school his son would attend, was determined to make Brian a legend as well.

Bryce wasted little time in getting Brian introduced to the sport. He was bouncing a basketball almost before he could walk. By age 5, Bryce had already put him on a daily workout routine. A lot of children might have resented being force fed a single activity from such a young age, but Brian honestly grew to love the game. Yet, even if he hadn't, he never would have told his father. He loved him, and the hours they spent together.

For Cassie, basketball or sports for that matter was a true period of self-discovery. At a young age, boys and girls play the same games together. The lot between Cassie and Brian's house became a field for kickball, football, and baseball. Cassie took to all three like the natural athlete she was. With her freckled face, baseball cap, ponytail, jeans, and scruffy shoes, she looked just like, "Li'l Sport" the tomboy logo atop the local market. By the time Brian's family had bought the house adjacent the lot, Cassie was a ten-year-old sports legend of her own. She could catch, kick, pass, and hit with any boy on the field. She loved all sports, but she found her true love and gift on the basketball court.

Originally, her parents had built the full-length basketball court complete with night-lights for her older brother Brad when he had turned 10. Brad had played two seasons of junior league basketball at the community center, and then spent an entire winter begging his parents to build him his own court. Brad lost interest with basketball before the court had even been around a summer. Racing bikes became his latest obsession, and over the years, it was just one of many. Brad rarely ventured on the court again, but Cassie was hooked from the first shot she rolled in. Soon, basketball became her primary sports passion, and she began a quest to see just how good she could become.

Brian had turned 10, shortly before moving into the new house. His father had a basketball goal up in the driveway, before they had finished unpacking. By now, Brian had been recognized as one of the best players for his age group. His father was proud of him, but felt if Brian was going to become a star; it was time to step up the workouts, in pressure, duration, and expectations. Brian worked to the point of exhaustion for his father's workouts, but Brian was undersized for his age even then. He didn't have the strength or stamina to excel at workouts that were better suited for a high school student. Brian began to fail. With each missed shot, his father's anger and frustration escalated. Realizing his son wasn't quite the natural he had been, he decided he would take an even stricter, disciplinarian approach to bring the talent from within him. He was determined to make him a star at any cost. After months and months of grueling, marathon work out sessions, the only thing Bryce had done was to drive his son to exhaustion and tears.

One of Cassie's most painful memories, of her early years as Brian's friend, was sitting by her bedroom window, sometimes as late as eleven o'clock, and hearing Bryce Baker screaming and berating Brian for each of his perceived failures. Cassie became all too familiar with phrases like "Damn it Brian, do it again!" or, "How many times is it going to take for you to get it right?" and, "What the hell do you call that?" then, "You are hopeless, and pathetic. I don't know why I waste my time!" Bryce slamming the door and turning off the light as he went into the house often followed the last phrase. Finally, Cassie would hear the worst sound of all, Brian sobbing beneath the goal in the now darkened driveway.

While Bryce was driving a wedge between himself and his son, he hadn't completely destroyed Brian's love of basketball. Brian and Cassie shared their love on what all the kids referred to as "Cassie's Court." While their games of one on one, and spirited workouts were as grueling as some of the workouts Brian's father had drug him through, they were far more enjoyable with Cassie there.

At age 11 and 12, they were about the same size. Cassie was a little heavier, Brian a little quicker. Cassie was a deadeye shooter. Brian was a tireless defender. Their games brought out the best basketball in both of them, and offered Brian a welcome place to release the tensions he had from home.

Brian enjoyed playing against Cassie, but he loved playing on the same team with her. They could anticipate each other's every move and routinely beat any two boys who were foolish enough to challenge them.

By the time Cassie and Brian had turned 13, they had become inseparable friends, part in fact to their kindred spirits, and part in fact that both were becoming social outcasts among their own kind.

Being a tomboy can be cute and acceptable when a girl's 8 years old, but by 12 she's expected to trade in her mitt, and eye black for cheerleader pom-pom's and make-up. Tiger Beat magazine replaces baseball cards on your shelf, and you begin the process of going from being a perfectly normal girl, to as Cassie phrased it, a "mindless little giggle wiggle." Those who had supposedly seen the light--the light being generated by those surrounding a make-up mirror--considered any girl not following this path as unacceptable friendship material. The boys felt any girl good enough to beat them at sports just couldn't be a girl.

Brian faired no better than Cassie. While gaining a measure of respect from his peers on both the playing field and basketball court, he failed in nearly every other aspect. Socialization is normally difficult for children who are the only child. The fact that Brian was smallish, shy, soft spoken, and sensitive, made him an easy target for bullies, and abuse from cruel and insensitive children. It got worse for Brian as he got older. Testosterone flaring adolescents made him a prime abuse target whenever they wanted to show off in front of their, "little giggle wiggle."

Bryce Baker did nothing to help his son's image among his peers. On more than one occasion, Brian would have a friend sleep over, and Bryce would push the kids out onto the basketball court to play one on one. Bryce's incessant yelling at Brian took any fun out of the activity either child might have experienced from their play, and few boys returned for a second visit. It wasn't long before Brian became known as "that weird boy, with the weird father, who lives next to that weird girl, Cassie".

Growing up is a trying time for all adolescents. For teenagers self-acceptance is often tied to social acceptance. Cassie and Brian's self-perceptions, suffered from being social outcasts, but in their darkest hours they knew they always had "Cassie's Court," and each other.

High school would usher in more dark days for both of them, but far more for Brian. Both kids started Pine Haven High School at age 14. Both were good students, and maintained a B+ average for all four years. Both suffered the stigma of being social outcasts, and both of them made their high school basketball teams. At that point, the similarity ended. Brian sat on the bench for two agonizing years, while his coach waged his personal vendetta on the Baker family. Cassie became the first freshman girl to start varsity, led her team in scoring and assists every year she played, and when she finished her career at Pine Haven, she was the girls all time leading scorer.

Girl's sports at that time received little respect or appreciation, but Cassie's freshman year had been so undeniably spectacular, that she began to receive some acceptance from the teachers and students who could appreciate the quality of her play. Cassie was really good, in fact, she was the best, and like anyone who aspires to be the best, that "best" usually comes at a price. Cassie paid that price every time she opted to practice when every other girl was out at the disco, or the shopping center, or just hanging around and doing nothing. Cassie rarely received invites, and had few girl friends.

With each party she passed on, the invites became fewer, and the friends less in number. She hadn't been invited to a sleep over since she was 12 years old. None of this was really new to her. She had been dealing with it for several years, but when a girl gets in high school, it's only normal to want friends, friends of both sexes. In four years of high school, Cassie could count all of her dates on one hand.

It wasn't that Cassie was unattractive; on the contrary she was cute. She didn't wear disco dresses to school, or put on her make-up with a cement trowel, but she always tried to look nice, and still casual. She wore jeans, blouses, light make-up, her signature ponytail, and that irrepressible smile. Still, the fact that she could beat all but a handful of boys, playing one on one on the basketball court, made her too non-female, and threatening; most boys' egos couldn't stand knowing a girl could beat them. Cassie's social life in high school was unfulfilling, but she did have a loving family and a great best friend. It would be enough to see her through four years at Pine Haven.

Brian could have been the 1970's poster boy for "social unacceptability." He was a member of the varsity basketball team, but his own members didn't accept him. Being pegged as a jock, he was denied admittance to the other social groups.

Brian's success with the girls mirrored that of Cassie's with the boys. He was only 5' 9" by his junior year, yet, and as always underweight. He picked up three inches and was 6 foot tall by graduation, but even then, he had nothing to go with the height. He wasn't ugly, just not attractive. He lacked the strong masculine features most boys have developed by the time they graduate. With baggy sweats, basketball t-shirts, long straight hair, and a stooped shoulder stance from always walking with his head down, he wasn't about to make any girl mistake him for John Travolta. Not having a boy friend bothered Cassie sometimes, but Brian didn't really mind. It just gave him more time to play basketball and hang with Cassie. Cassie had one distinct advantage over Brian, at least she had her parents support. All Brian could count on was, as always, Cassie.

The worse things became in the Baker household, the more time Brian spent over at Cassie's. Most parents of a teen-aged girl would be very concerned if their daughter spent half the night out back with the boy next door, but Brian had become like an adopted son at the Miller house. Cassie and Brian spent most of the day on the court, and half the night crashed in the family room watching basketball. After a game, they'd get the fever, and be back out on the court emulating the players they'd just watched. Cassie's parents never doubted that the only physical contact between these two was on the basketball court. Cassie and Brian openly defied the rule that says, boys and girls can't be close and be friends. Only one time, did they come close to exploring the world beyond friendship.

Cassie's parents had taken one of their weekend getaways, leaving Cassie and Brad alone at the house. Brad and his friends decided to have a little party, and to keep Cassie quiet about it; he bought her off with a six-pack of Little Kings Cream Ale. The funny thing about the bribe was, Cassie didn't drink, but she was 15, and sometimes that's all the excuse a girl needs for doing something stupid. She called over her partner in crime, and with a little persuasion, smiles, and her trademark "pleeease....", she convinced Brian to split the six-pack with her. Brian was also a non-drinker, so three beers apiece was plenty to feel the effects of the liquor. And it didn't take them either of them long to figure out that basketball and booze don't mix, so they both took a seat on the side of the court. Brian could feel the alcohol buzzing in his head. For several minutes neither of them said a word, and then Cassie looked at Brian and spoke.

"Hey Brian, how come you never tried to kiss me?"

Brian swallowed hard as he could feel the beer and his heart trying to come up through his throat. A few seconds passed and Cassie started again.

A sly smile turned at her lips, "Do you think I haven't noticed the way you look at me sometimes. I see that longing in your eyes...but don't worry about that man; I think it's cool. It kind of makes me feel special you know? Brian...you do think I'm special don't ya?"

Cassie's green eyes were sparkling from both the emotion of the moment and the alcohol. She starred into Brian's eyes searching for the emotion he was feeling. Brian was searching for the words to tell her how he felt, and the courage to say them. There was longing in his eyes every time he was with her, but it wasn't the same longing she thought it was.

He heaved a heavy sigh and began, "Cassie, there's no one in this whole world that is more special to me than you are. You are my best friend, and sister. I love you, and I love being with you...I... I...don't know exactly how to say this, but... but you're my dream girl. I'd give anything in this world if.... if I could...could...."

Cassie placed her fingers over Brian's trembling lips, stopping him before he could finish the sentence. She thought she knew how to finish it for him, and then did. "Wish you could...kiss me? That's it isn't Brian. You wish you could kiss me. Well, go ahead kiss me Brian. I want you to."

Brian dropped his gaze for a moment. That's not what he was trying to tell her, but now he couldn't tell her the truth. He looked back up at Cassie, and she had leaned forward with lips pursed, and her eyes closed. All of the sudden Brian had a strange feeling, one he had never had before. He really did want to kiss Cassie. He wasn't sure why, maybe he just wanted to share something else with her, or maybe try to imagine what it must feel like for her to kiss him, or maybe he just wanted to give her what she thought he wanted. He couldn't say no, now; she would be crushed.

Brian leaned forward, and brought his lips close to hers. Just as he started to close his eyes and kiss her. Cassie's eyes opened wide, and she placed one hand over her mouth and the other over her stomach. She tried to roll to her feet, and finally got up. She staggered a few steps to the grass beyond the court, fell to one knee, and began heaving violently. Brian ran to her side, but the beer and the sight of Cassie's vomit, starting him heaving as well. They staggered up to the house, cleaned up a little and then exhausted from the heaving; they passed out on the back porch. Brian woke up before Cassie did, and was gone when she awoke. He didn't come back over until that evening. Aside from the fact they both swore never to drink again, the events of that night were never discussed.

Brian didn't know if Cassie remembered everything or not, but he decided he never wanted to come that close to jeopardizing their friendship by either getting romantic, or him telling her his true feelings, and the secret he could share with no one. Brian wanted it all to stay the same, and at least through high school he got his wish.

During Brian and Cassie's high school years, anyone coming by the Miller house and walking into the backyard day or night, could expect to be greeted by the sight of two court warriors, bathed in sweat, and battling each other face to face. With the 8-track stereo system that Brian donated, the rhythmic pounding of a basketball on asphalt was complimented by a rock and disco beat. Shouts of, "Oh my God! You're 'not' going to count that! Stop this if you think you can!" and "C'mon Pistol, just one more game!" could be heard all day.

"Pistol," was the nickname Brian bestowed upon Cassie when they were in junior high. Pistol was also the nickname of college and pro basketball legend, Pete Maravich. Maravich was known for his incredible ball handling, passing, and scoring ability. It was an appropriate moniker for a girl whose talent excelled in the same three areas. Brian even went so far as to give Cassie a life size poster of Pete Maravich, and she proudly displayed it on her bedroom door.

Most of Cassie and Brian's classmates spent the summer following their freshman years, partying, playing, and laying around. Brian and Cassie spent the summer like they did the other seasons, on the court. Both were determined to sharpen their skills for their sophomore seasons.

Brian spent his sophomore season much like he did his freshman season, glued to the end of the bench and in both his coaches and father's doghouse. His sophomore season ended with those two missed free throws, and he didn't return to play as either a junior or senior.

Cassie on the other hand, began to dominate the court, and gain notoriety as one of the best young talents in the state. She led the Lady Pioneers in both scoring and assists for a second straight season, and scored a career high 41 points in an inspired performance against the team that eventually won the state that year.

Brian and Cassie entered the summer before their junior years at opposite ends of their basketball careers. Brian's was over. He didn't even want to return to Pine Haven, let alone play basketball for them again. His father had quit trying to mold him into the second coming of Bryce, in fact, after the way Brian had talked to his father after the last game; Bryce had barely spoken to his son. Brian had no problem walking away from high school basketball, as long as his love for the game could be satisfied playing on Cassie's Court. Brian knew Cassie's career was just beginning and he wanted to help her if he could. He knew by working out with her all summer, he could play the game he loved, with the person he loved, and help her to be the best she could be.

Cassie's career was starting to take shape. At the conclusion of her sophomore year, she had been voted first team all-city. She began receiving letters and phone calls from coaches interested in her playing for their school. She was living her dream, and her family was supporting her in it. The only downer for her was the knowledge that Brian wasn't able to do what she was doing. His dreams had crumbled while hers soared.

She worried about Brian more and more. She actually started to feel guilty about her success, and quit talking about the recruitment letters when they came. After a couple of very uninspired games by Cassie, Brian asked her what was bothering her.

Cassie took Brian's hand and looked deep into his eyes.

"I...I just feel so bad for you. I mean you don't deserve the way you've been treated by your father, Coach Lynch, or your own teammates. Damn it Brian! You're really good and now you'll never get the chance to show it... And then look at me. Here I am getting letters from colleges, and acting like some stupid little "giggle wiggle". You must think I am such a jerk!"

Brian was moved by the compassion his friend felt for him, he squeezed her hand and spoke. "Look Cassie, you're a lot of things to me, but you aren't no 'giggle wiggle,' or a jerk, okay! What happened to me isn't your fault. I honestly believe it wouldn't have mattered what school I went to, I'm just one of those people who don't fit in. I was never comfortable playing with those guys. I really can't explain it...but no matter how hard I tried, I never felt like I belonged, and the guys on the team felt the same way. That's why they dogged me so bad. Whole thing's just kind of weird isn't it?" Cassie didn't really know what to say to her friend's remarks. She didn't have to answer as Brian began again. "That's what's so special about our friendship Cassie; I don't feel weird or out of place around you. It always feels right, kind of like... this is where I have always belonged. When we play basketball together, or just hang out, I know in my heart this is the way its supposed to be...Look, I'm so proud of what you've accomplished and so happy you are enjoying it. You deserve the future you've got coming, and I hope you'll let me stick around to share it with ya. I'd like to keep working out with you, if you think it might help your game. I'd like to be some part of it. I kind a feel like if you make it, and I can help you get there, than in a way, I made it too."

Cassie hugged her selfless friend, and knew she was silly to ever think Brian could resent her. She let go of Brian, and a smile returned to her face. "So you want to set up some tunes, and get your butt kicked again, or what?"

Brian shook his head and thought "Pistol's back".

The rest of the summer was hot weather, hot music, and hot competition on Cassie's Court.

To Be Continued...

  

  

  

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