The Lighthouse Ch. 04

The shot missed. Ricocheting against the backboard, bouncing off the rim and thudding onto the court. Ethan shook his head. What else was there to expect after a night like tonight? Everything they attempted to execute failed. The entire night had gone one way: against them. Why would the last shot be any different? He waved his team over and led them into the guests' locker room.

No one said anything. They sat in front of their lockers: elbows on knees, towels over their heads, faces between their hands or peering at the floor beneath them. Ethan had plenty to say, but could muster up the strength to repeat himself. He hated repeating himself. It was the same speech he'd gave since game one. Shots not falling, he could handle-though it would help if they got a few more in-but lack of effort he couldn't. It was driving him stupid in frustration.

"Please, guys, please . . . Can I get just one of you to play a whole game with your whole effort? I know it's in you. But you're gonna have to be willing to struggle through a little pain and a little exhaustion to get there. Does anyone want a victory? Can any of you show me the kind of heart it takes to win? Hell, at this point, I'd settle for a loss that wasn't in the double-digits."

A couple of groans filtered through the stuffy air in the room. A few could only muster a nod. Their fifth straight loss. Ethan was stumped. He tried processing what he could have possibly overlooked and had under-prepared his team for. Practices had been great. Their execution had gotten better. They seemed to be getting the flow of the offense. So what the hell happened out there tonight? What changed between then and now? Their performance was that of an inexperienced junior high team at best.

Coming into tonight he expected better, he expected results. He expected the first win of the season. But instead, they got their asses handed to them by a team he knew wouldn't be in contention for a playoff appearance. They barely broke .500 last year and hadn't made the playoffs in the past fifteen years. How could they fall apart to a team they should be starting their second string against?

He paced the floor, hoping an answer would come to him. Perhaps the dingy carpet held answers. His vision roamed the surface for divine advice. Was he over-coaching? Preparing inadequately? Did he have the right players in the right positions? He shook his head, returning focus onto the sweaty team sitting before him. He hated second-guessing himself. He'd been over this before. The problem wasn't stemming from his side of the equation. He was the only constant. He'd done this for years, the same way, and had gotten the same results, year after year. It had to be the team. But what? How? They had to be under a mental block. They've lost every game so far and that alone would take a psychological toll on the best of athletes. Finding the will to win when all you've known is defeat isn't easy for anybody. The cogs clicked into gear as he narrowed his strategy. Somehow he had to inspire them, re-ignite their desire to win, to play with belief. First, he needed to direct their vision and set their sights on a common, obtainable goal. He could coach them to it, but he couldn't give it to them. They had to take it for themselves.

"Listen fellas. I've seen teams turn things around and go on to become contenders having a worse starting record than ours." He felt like he was attempting to encourage himself as much as he was the team. He got down on one knee, grabbing their attention. "We can do this! The shots will come, but in the mean time we're going to need more of them. That means more rebounds, on offense and defense. It also means we need to be picking up the trash, going after loose balls, hustling after every scrap left out on the court. We don't have any superstars on this team, but we don't need any either. We need each other. Not just one man doing all the work. We work together. Together we win, together we lose. Together we are the superstar. As a team; as a unit. No more dragging our feet onto the court, dejected, before the game even begins. Take pride in your work and determine right now, right now, you're going to fight. Right now, you're going to scrap for every point. Right now, you are one. One team. One unit. And when the game is done, even if we lose, we'll know that we laid it all out on the court. We brought our best. We gave our all."

It wasn't his finest speech, but there was an audible exhale of encouragement being breathed into the air and the few smiles he got were better than the pitiful frowns of lost causes from moments before. Admittedly, he felt a little encouraged himself, in spite of the fact that they were rivaling the worst team he'd ever coached-his second year team. That team had nearly got him the boot. But just like then, he wasn't about to give up on them. He expected their best, he had to give them his. He stood up.

"Come on guys, huddle up. Hands in." His best. Not the legacy, not the rumored legend, not a story-book hero. They just needed him to be his best. "Fight on three. One . . . two . . ."

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

Julianne frowned watching Ethan drive as he took the long road home, lost in his own head. The long road home was his deliberating wander. She enjoyed the few times a year he'd skip out on taking the bus home with the team, though she always felt a little selfish about it. However, this was about him, not her. She gazed out the window for a brief moment. The city lights drawing closer along with their approach. Whenever he drove, it gave her time to quietly think to herself, and the man next to her was her muse. She smiled, catching her face in the vague reflection of the glass. She remembered past years; then, catching a younger version in the glass. She could still see the girl she was in her eyes, yet now behind those same lenses hid tinged knowledge. A quiet longing of lost innocence whisked through her effete soul. She blinked twice, pulling herself from her dark well. Ethan was still wandering his own trails of thought as she put her hand on his leg. "Wanna tell me what's on your mind, Coach?"

She waited, watching him come back to the present reality, not feeling the need to force anything from him if he chose to stay in his own world. She was fine just being in his presence, even if it was just the shell. She knew he'd do what he thought best and she would do the same-support him no matter what.

He smiled, his eyes blinking after the passing of a pair of bright headlights. "I think they should write a book about me."

She couldn't help herself and smirked. Where does he come up with this stuff?

"Oh really?"

He nodded, "Yeah. They could title it, 'Man of Adversity'."

They laughed.

The truth was, he was right-at least about the characterization of his life. He spent the bulk of his years over-coming one obstacle or hurdle after the next. Nothing came easy for him it seemed. She couldn't count the times someone would tell him how lucky he was. "You'd fall down a mine shaft and land on a gold vein, Ethan. I swear!" They'd say, but she knew better. She would look over to him, pat his shoulder, and grin. Let 'em wonder where the magic comes from, she'd think to herself. But she knew where it originated. She seen her husband take the leftovers and discarded pieces time and time again and find potential in them. That was his gift, that was his magic. He seen the extraordinary in the ordinary.

She squeezed his thigh. "Ethan, after all these years you still amaze me." Admiration beaming from her face.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye and gave her that sheepish smile she was accustomed to seeing when he felt proud and awkward all at once. "Thanks."

She moved her hand higher onto his lap and grabbed him.

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

Ethan's legs trembled beneath him. Sweat trickling down his forehead.

Julianne, bent over and arching her back, pressed into him.

"Oh God, Ethan!" she praised.

Ethan held her hips, pulling her hard. He didn't move, confining her upon her impalement. His arms shook, breath seethed between his teeth. The strenuous effort demanding every fiber of his strength. Slight tremors vibrated up the front of his legs along the back of hers.

"Please, fuck me now." she implored.

Slowly, he removed himself from her, leaving a vacant hollow. Then with a quick thrust of his hips, he rammed into the void, smacking his groin against her soft bottom which jiggled in response. A ripple-like wave washed up her flesh, stopping at the small of her back. He pulled and thrust again. Another ripple, then another. They built, one racing after the next until they were nearly on top of one another. Waves of persuasive pleasure pulsating throughout her center.

Julianne turned her face towards him, mouth agape. "Oh my God! That's good. Don't you dare stop!" She spoke, inflaming his ardor.

Step by step they climbed each rung of their blissful orgasmic ladder together. "Ethan! Oh, you glorious lover! Don't stop! Fuck me! Take me!"

"Damn! I'm not gonna last much longer, Julianne."

Appendage throbbing, strands of ejaculate poured from his core, flowing into her. His swollen organ throbbing beat upon beat, a crescendo in the ecstasy of her orgasm.

"I'm cumming, baby! I'm cumming," she cooed.

His thickened point deflated. The last vestige of his strength, riding her down gently, seesawing back and forth. Sticky, smacking noises entwined with both their labored breathing. The fragrance of sex permeating the room.

He fell, exhausted, onto her sweaty back. His limp prick vacating her wet cradle.

She fell with him under his weight, crashing onto the bed beneath and trapping his hands under her breasts. "Wow! It's been a long time since I've felt like this. Where did that come from!?" she inquired, amidst a small laugh.

"Dunno. Maybe leftover frustration from the game." He chuckled. "Doesn't seem like much has been going my way lately, but I sure needed that. It felt good." He rolled over onto his pillow. "Though now I'm certainly feeling my age."

She lifted her chin, smiling eyes beaming at his flushed face as she stroked her fingers across his brow. "Trust me, you still got it, Stud." She turned wrapped her arm across his chest and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll play on your team anytime."

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

"Okay, so what's with this goofy grin you've had all day?" Tiffany asked. She had waited all day until the drive home from school before finally making her inquiry. "I noticed it this morning, but didn't put a lot of thought into it. Then, it was still plastered on your face later when I saw you both times in the hall and in the gym during practice. And don't tell me it's nothing. I know you better than that by now, I think, and it's something."

Ethan didn't say. He looked at her and just smiled.

"Come on! What's going on? You know you lost your fifth straight game, right?" She reminded him. "Or were you not aware that most people don't smile like victors after a loss?" Her expression was all over the place. Changing from amused to curious to inquisitive to interrogative.

Ethan couldn't help it. He laughed. The show she was performing as her skin crawled in mild irritation was amusing. "Tiff, seriously, it's nothing."

She hit his arm. "I told you not to tell me that! It is too something." Now, she was grinning and he could tell that she was hating herself for it. Apparently it was becoming infectious. "Alright! Alright. Just . . . keep it between us. Yeah?"

She nodded and folded her hands in her lap as she turned in her seat. She became still as she awaited an answer.

"I had sex. Great sex. Last night. There. Okay?" He waved his hand out in front of him as if he'd thrown the words onto the dashboard of the car.

"Oh please! Seriously? That's it?" She rolled her eyes.

He shrugged.

"Okay. I get that." She straightened herself forward once again. It wasn't the answer she expected apparently, but it got her to finally settle down. "God knows it's been forever since I've had any that made me grin like a goofball for a day, but I believe you." She didn't look at him as she spoke, but he could see her biting the inside of her mouth. "I guess I'm a little jealous." A dark grin spread across her face.

"Of?" Ethan asked.

She gave him an exasperated look. "You getting some good tail. And I . . ." She blushed. "I haven't had any, at all, in over a year." She folded her arms across her chest and set back in her seat like a disappointed child.

Ethan frowned. The revelation sinking in. He couldn't warp his mind around that. How could anyone go that long without sex? He'd die! "A year? Over a year? How in the . . . What do you . . ." He cut himself off. His better reasoning winning out over his curiosity to understand such a ridiculous notion. Well, perhaps it was noble and he was just a peasant within its realm. Either way, he didn't have any business asking or knowing such intimate information. He tried pulling his foot from his mouth. "Umm . . . sorry."

She hit him on the arm again and laughed. "Oh! Well, thanks!"

"What am I suppose to say!? Congratulations?" He failed at hiding a smirk.

"It's okay. I'm not the sleep-around or one-night-stand type of girl." She let out an anxious breath of air. "And so you know, I'm satisfied." She added, playfully winking.

"Ah! Well, congratulations then."

She tucked her arm into her torso and bent forward as if taking an informal bow of acceptance, playing along.

Ethan shook his head. "Speaking of O-and-five and congratulations - congrats on your fourth win! Your girls are looking good. You just might make a deep dash into the playoffs this year if you keep it up," he said.

"Thanks. I sure hope so but I have to admit, the talent is great so I can't take much credit. They've offset so many of my coaching blunders this year, it's embarrassing to admit. I can't tell you how many times they've saved my ass."

"It's a funny thing how it works like that. Your team will coach you as much as you coach them. If you let 'em."

"Definitely," she replied.

Ethan pulled up to the curb of her house and put the car in park. She grabbed her gear and opened the door, stepping out.

"I have to ask though," Ethan said. "How did you come up with that double-high pick screen?" He winked.