Driven_589066

She gave the dog one last scratch and then gave him the toy she had bought. Then she went for a shower, a cold shower. Dylan Lambert was really starting

to have some effects that she wished she had some better control over.

Such as the smile that was threatening to become permanently etched on her face.

The fans let out yet another long groan when the ball failed to go in. For whatever reason, the Badgers where playing ball like a freshman high school

team; their passing game was off, their shooting game was horrible and their defense seemed to be non-existent. It was as if they were playing under

water.

On the other hand, the Pistols were hot with a capital H and they were making the Badgers work and sweat. Within the first ten minutes of the first period

they led by ten points and showed no signs of letting up.

The Pistols hailed from the mean streets of Camden, and their lineup looked like it had come fresh from the pages of the now defunct XFL. Full of cast-offs

and rejects, what they lacked in talent, they more than made up for in intimidation. They were a roller derby team gone mad, and they thrived on the image

that had taken them all the way to the second round of the playoffs last year.

To make matters worse, the referees seemed to be living in the Pistols’ back pocket. Either that, or they were affected with a sort of selective blindness.

Half of the players on the Badgers were sporting some injury or other from vicious blocks and charges, and the Refs hadn’t seen a thing. Or if they had, the

Badgers were called for the foul. Barely through the first quarter, the first Badger had already fouled out, and several others were on their third.

One look at Dylan and Hodge knew they were in for it during the half. The coach was not amused, and she spent half her time pacing back and forth, and

the other half with her arms crossed over her chest, shooting dirty looks onto the court. Cat got caught in that laser-like glare and resolved not to look to

the sideline for the rest of the half for fear of being incinerated on the spot.

She took the inbounds pass and dribbled it to half court. Things were looking good until she bounced passed the ball to where Coles was supposed to be.

Instead, a hulking mass received the pass pretty as you please and rifled it off to her point guard. “Shit!” Cat yelled, backpedaling in an effort to keep up

with the Pistols’ point guard. It was a useless effort, and Cat flung her hands outward as the player she was guarding hit a three point shot with no effort

at all.

The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the half. The Badgers hustled off the court to their locker room. Cat looked up into the crowd. It was clear they

were disappointed by the fact that their team was now sixteen points behind, but she was relieved to see that they weren’t leaving en masse.

In the locker room, everyone took a seat on the long benches, wiping their necks and heads with towels as they waited for the appearance of their coach.

Cat looked around, seeing the dismal expressions on the faces of her teammates. It was as if they were awaiting execution.

A moment later, Dylan strode in, her face an angry mask. “Somebody want to explain to me exactly what was going on out there? I thought I came to coach

a basketball game, but obviously, I was mistaken”

Cat couldn’t even look at her coach. She figured it was in her best interest just to listen, because if she looked up and saw disappointment in Dylan’s face

it would kill her.

“Did you guys not get enough rest last night? You’re playing like crap. You’re letting a second rate team beat you on your own turf. I know you guys are

better than this. What’s the problem?”

No one was brave enough to answer so Dylan continued. “You’re playing like a high school team!” Her lancing gaze zeroed in on one particular player. “You

decided to join the WWF, Chaney? Jesus! They’re not scoring enough points on their own, so you decided to give them a couple for free??”

“You saw that charge, Coach!” the guard responded, nursing her rapidly blackening left eye. “Hell, everyone in the stands saw it!”

“And that gave you the right to make like Mike Tyson and clean her clock?”

“Damn straight,” Chaney agreed. “Bitch had it coming.”

“So, you thought it was worth a Technical.”

“Well…”

“Good answer, Chaney. Did your self-promotion to team thug come with a decrease in IQ?”

“C’mon, Coach. The refs are killing us out there!”

The rest of the team muttered their assent.

“Oh, so that’s it, huh?” Dylan asked, continuing to pace. “The refs are playing favorites, and you’ve decided to just give up. Is that the way we’re playing it

now?”

There was some muted grumbling, but no one had the guts to answer outright.

“Fine. Well then, hit the showers. I’ll go tell the refs that we’re forfeiting the game. Our fans don’t deserve the torture of a second half of this shit you call

playing.” She stared at them all. “Well? Go on. Get changed.”

As she turned, Cat’s voice broke the silence. “Coach….”