Free Leverage by Joshua C. Cohen Page B

world all by yourself, something comes along and sweeps you right down to the bottom . . .waahhh . . . oh . . .”
    Coach Nelson begins waving his free hand theatrically and then slips from the wall. He plummets eight feet before the ropes on his harness snap taut. The pulleys squeak, and at the other end, Bruce’s arms flex as the momentum of the winding ropes lifts his anchoring body four feet up in the air. Gradley reaches over to help stop the rope and pull Bruce back down to the ground.
    â€œGood catch, boys,” Coach Nelson calls down, seeming to enjoy hovering in the air in the harness. Paul Kim reaches for the rope after the fact and Bruce, Paul, and Gradley slowly play the rope out through their hands, lowering Coach Nelson to the ground. When his feet touch, he unclips the harness. He claps his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Thanks again.”
    Bruce nods, looking like he just aced a test.
    â€œIf your captain can catch your coach, he’ll damn well catch you,” Coach Nelson says. “The old cliché is true. There is no ‘I’ in ‘team.’ You see a teammate needing help, you help him. You see a teammate goofing off—in the gym, in class, outside of school at a party where he might get hurt or hurt others—it’s your responsibility to step up and help him.” Coach Nelson cracks a grin at Fisher. “And, no, Fish, that doesn’t mean help him drink more.”
    â€œAw, Uncle Jesus.”
    â€œWhen old guys like me tell you backup’s coming and they’re on the way, that the cavalry is coming, they’re lying,” Coach Nelson continues. “No one’s going to help you but you and your teammates. So, look around you. This is it. You guys rely on each other. This is your unit. This is what you have and that’s more than most get, so consider yourselves lucky.”
    We look at each other, our eyes meeting, and I feel close to my teammates. They may not be gunning for a scholarship like I am, and maybe they don’t and won’t train as hard as I do, but they respect this sport and they respect me when I’m up on the bars. They want me to get good scores like I want them to get good scores.
    â€œFirst two weeks of freshman season is, mentally, tough as it gets,” Coach Nelson says. “You don’t know anyone and you realize what we do in here is hard .” We all start laughing. “Now that we’re past the two-week mark and you haven’t quit, I want to officially welcome this year’s freshmen Pete Delray and Ronnie Gunderson to the team. Keep up the good work.”
    Coach Nelson walks over to a bag and pulls out two faded, really faded, cotton T-shirts old as dirt. They’ve been washed and worn so many times, the fabric is like tissue paper and the original silk screen is barely legible. FRESHMAN CAPTAIN IN TRAINING, the shirts read if you look close enough. Coach Nelson hands the shirts to Pete and Ronnie. Pete looks confused but Ronnie looks like if you squeezed him, soap bubbles would come out of his open mouth because he’s so astonished he’s getting the shirt. I can’t help but smile watching Ronnie. It’s how I felt last year when Coach Nelson handed me and Paul Kim the same shirts. We returned them (laundered) at the end of the season. I wore mine a lot. I mean, a lot . Way more than Paul did. Judging from Ronnie’s face, he’ll be wearing it every other practice. Coach’s speech while he climbed the wall I didn’t mind hearing again, either.

12
    KURT
    P atti wastes no time using Coach’s funds. Weekend after I hand her the sealed envelope Coach gave me, a moving van backs into her driveway and two guys in blue coveralls unload a fifty-two -inch- screen television that barely fits through her front door.
    â€œNow we can watch you almost like in real life,” Patti says, fanning the cigarette smoke that’s drifting up between us.