Slump

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Kevin Waltman. Slump

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For Royce Waltman, who always did his dirty best.

What I’d feel is some alone time with my girl. Maybe hit pause and see what happens live-action on this couch. But it would be easier to uproot Roy Hibbert in the post than to get Mr. and Mrs. Winters to leave their precious Jasmine alone with me on a Saturday night. Her dad in particular doesn’t seem to trust me. Every time I glance his way, he lifts his eyes from the book he’s reading and gives me this dead stare, like he can see right into my heart and tease out all my desires. Every time I come to the house, he says, “Hello, Derrick,” like he’s greeting his sworn enemy, and then he just watches me in silence the rest of the time. Jasmine’s mom, at least, asks me how I’m doing, even has the courtesy to talk to me about the upcoming season. But every time I answer her questions, she gets this strange look on her face, the way a teacher listens to an answer that’s not quite right. Then maybe she’ll wonder aloud if the city should be shelling out millions of dollars just to keep the Pacers here.

.....

I nod. He’s right. I figure that’s that, so I tell him I’ll catch him tomorrow, and I head for the showers.

“Derrick!” Murphy calls. I turn and see that he’s got this half-smile on his face and he’s shaking his head at me. “You’re not hearing me. Someone should have stopped Reynolds, but that was your job.” I stare back at him. “If you want to take charge, then you need to be a leader. You should have been talking Reynolds back onto the court before he got halfway to the locker room.”

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