Chapter 8

Charly vs Immaculada

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TOCAYO
Part 1
Prologue
Playa Norte
Charly the American
A Catholic Education
Cold Showers
A Peruvian Name...
Tossing Armando...
Los Shorts de Bob...
Charly vs Immaculada
Warming the Bench...
A Little Socrates...
Running From Lola
Ping Pong Politics
A Perfect Basketball Day
A Man Needs His Friends
A Pig In a Hole
Condors Over Ticlio
Wrestling in the Plaza
Handcuffs and Curfews
Rochabus
A Hero Hiding
Hitting A Brick Wall
Part 2

After another 15 minutes of dunks by the Immaculada boy and timid layups by the Santa Maria boys, Coach Phil Rink called out to us. We jogged to our location on the sideline.

We stood in a circle there, restless, flapping around our arms and legs, the sweat making our foreheads shiny. Coach Phil Rink, he spoke to us in English. "Listen up! It's Coco Palotes at low post, Gamarra at high-post, Miguel as point guard and Cipriani and McDonald on the wings. The rest of you, pay attention, you could go into the game at any time."

Looking at each of us, he repeated what he called his “fundamental” strategy for great American basketball.

"The most important thing is to play as a team. It’s more important for us to play together than it is to win the game. Why?" He paused to help us remember, then repeated what he had repeated many times before. "Because after we learn to play as a team, the victories will follow."

He looked at each one of us to make sure we had listened. Then he grabbed Miguel's jersey with two fingers and pulled it down. For emphasis, I think. "Miguel, when they score on us, take it personally. I don't care if their shot bounces off Carlos's head and falls into the net, they have offended your family name. Got it?"

The team, it chuckled nervously. But Charly did not. And I did not.

Then Coach Phil Rink, he turned to Coco Palotes and tapped him hard on the chest with his index finger. "Coco, the trap is your weapon. Wield it like a barbarian."

Palotes nodded. Then he asked Coach Phil Rink what "wield" meant.

Coach explained with his hands and arms until Coco nodded again. "All of you," our coach continued, looking in the eyes at each of us, "stay alert on the trap. The reason I made you throw up during the first week of practice was so you could make these clowns throw up today. I want their big man so tired that he doesn't know which way his feet are pointing."

Charly snorted. "Big man?"

Coach Phil Rink ignored Charly and grabbed me by the shoulder. "Carlos, when he posts down, bump into him and keep him off balance as much as the referee lets you, OK? He can’t jump if he can’t get his footing."

I nodded without looking up. I did not want to look at Charly by accident.

"Did you get that?" Charly shouted at me.

I made sure to nod with the same apparent disinterest as I had nodded the last time.

"Let's go," Coach Phil Rink said calmly. He pushed us toward the court and gave Charly a look of worry. We walked onto the court, wiping our palms with nerves on our shorts, and making adjustments that were not necessary to our uniforms.