Doug Kaplan looked around the facility with a sense of pride. He tried to decide which part was the best, the weight room? The locker room? Or was it the offices? Then he walked out to the arena and looked around. This had to be it. Recently built, the pride of the University...The Sanders Arena. Over 17,000 seats, a huge video display instead of the usual scoreboards, and loges for the more fervent alumni. He pulled his wife close, "Incredible, isn't it?" he asked.
"I'm really proud of you," Whitney said as she snuggled against her husband. She was tall, athletic, and beautiful having lost nothing from her cheerleading days. She did modeling for a while and was well-paid and well-received. She loved it but gave it up as Doug went from coaching the local high school to a small college as an assistant. A major program brought him on where he took on designing the offense that led the conference in scoring. That led to this opportunity. His new team had been to the big dance for 16 straight years until the last few. He was not a popular choice and many said he was just a place-holder until next year when John Factor's contract ran out over at Eastern. He knew his capabilities and never considered himself a temp...though this stint wouldn't hurt his resume.
"We're going to make this work," he sighed, "I'll focus on recruiting and if I can just get a good point guard and a decent 3..." he said mostly to himself. He looked at his wife then kissed her, "I hope you are ready for this. I'm not going to be around as much."
Whitney nodded, "I got it." Then she grinned, "I have Bob to keep me company," she smiled, "There've been more than a few nights I've passed out with Bob throbbing inside me."
Doug chuckled, Bob was short for Battery Operated Boyfriend, an 8" realistic penis with 6 speeds. She'd been given it as a joke at her bridal shower and neither could remember still having any of the other gifts. "I'm aware. I've come to bed and could hear the humming."
The Central University Falcons lost their legendary head coach 5 years previously, and after a 16-year streak of at least 20 wins annually they'd collapsed. Their last few years' records fell to 15-16, 11-20, 6-25, 4-27. Doug had his work cut out for him. It was considered a huge win if a 3-star recruit came on.
Doug and Whitney were on the couch watching ESPN when Whitney sat forward. The happy couple was standing in front of the school's main gate. Doug was wearing a tie with the school colors, and Whitney was wearing a short summer dress showing her incredible legs. "I didn't consider the sun behind me," she sighed. It was as if the image were from an X-ray machine as her body was seen under the flimsy fabric. But the warm southern temperatures dictated flimsy clothes.
"You looked incredible. I'll bet applications to the school double once high school kids see this," Doug grinned. He turned up the volume.
"In a shocking move, Central University announced the hiring of virtually unknown Doug Kaplan as their head coach. As I'm sure no one has heard of him, here's a quick summary bio," the talking head said.
Whitney looked at her husband as the man told about his 3 years as a high school coach stressing no state titles, then two years at an unknown junior college...no titles. Then the last two years as an assistant coach over at Eastern Mountain University...just a first-round exit from the NIT. Then the camera panned over to the other talking head who was smiling. "We heard Bill Sampson's name, Drew Andrews, Andrew Dawson but no mention of Doug Kaplan," the man shook his head. "I think this was to get a warm body in there until Factor is available. John Factor would fill the seats and get kids to play there." He looked back at the screen, "This is as close to a nobody as if they left the seat empty."
"Not true, Bill. We've all heard of Doug Kaplan...or at least his wife. Remember the piece we did on 'Wives and Girlfriends' last summer? I sure remember these pictures," the man said as he turned to the screen behind him. There was Whitney, her golden blonde hair glowing in the sun hugging her husband, then another of her in a bikini. There were 4 more with the last one of Whitney jumping up, her huge breasts straining to get free from her low-cut top. She was in the front row cheering her husband's team on at a game. "Former Miss Colorado, first runner up at the Miss America Pageant...I'd hire him. OK, he's a placeholder until renowned coach John Falcon's contract runs out. He's the lowest-paid coach in the conference so I'm sure he's not unpacking. But he does bring certain assets to the program. The administration wants fans in the seats," he grinned at the picture on the screen behind him, "after they built the new arena and it was rarely at capacity..." he looked at the picture of the smiling couple, "That might explain why he's considered a good recruiter."
"I wish I were being recruited right now," Bill Simonson, the former NBA MVP sighed, "I'd have added Central to my list of schools.
Whitney took the remote and turned off the TV. "Fuck! What a couple of assholes. You took the high school to the conference championship game all three years. How could you compete against that Christian academy that recruited kids from all over the city? Then you had winning records at Metro Junior College in their first two years having a team. First years of having a basketball team! You designed the shallow-three offense increasing Eastern's scoring by 24 points a game! You're a great coach," she spat. "No one, not that asshole John, you-can-kiss-my-ring Falcon could have done what you did," she said as she hugged her husband.
Doug nodded, "But they're not wrong. I'm the lowest-paid Division One coach not just in the conference but in the country and on a one-year contract. I'm fine with being a placeholder and I'm going to make it tough for the administration to terminate me and then hire Falcon. He is a two-time NCAA champion and former All-American when he played here."
Over the next few months, Doug had convinced a few 3-star players to join the program supplementing a decent core of returning kids. These were not one-and-done kids and he thought that most anticipated being coached by Falcon next year, but he didn't care. He was there to teach and to win even though 2/3 of his kids were freshmen.
It wasn't pretty at first, going 0-4 though they were in every game. Game 5 was against their in-state rival, the 5-0 State U. Their games hadn't been close, and had the leading scorer and rebounder in the country along with being ranked #1 in the polls. As if that weren't intimidating enough, the game was being nationally televised.
"Guys, the slate is clean. I know this is intimidating, but hell! You want to be the best, you need to play the best. We could have played against a half-dozen patsies and been 4-0, but any of you feel like that would help you develop as players?" Doug asked looking around, "There are two possible outcomes on the scoreboard but only one outcome for each of you. In 3 hours every one of you will be better. Better prepared, more inured to pressure, more used to the big stage. That can only help you in the future. Back to the two possible outcomes, you all are more than capable of beating this team. They are a 2-man team but we're deep. Remember, sag back on Thompson and Willis, and let their other players try to take over. Make the other guys have to score...I know you guys as a team are better than their two-man NBA-bound temps. If you foul, make it smart. Like I said, we're deep and we can put more pressure on them than they can on us." He looked at every one of his boys. "Let's hear it," he said and smiled as the group huddled and chanted the school's initials.
Whitney was standing outside the locker room and stepped back as the door opened. On an impulse, she hugged and kissed Doug before the man trotted down the hallway to the floor followed by the assistant coaches. She had stepped back but the team's point guard pulled on her arm.
Carlos saw the coach hug his wife and as a joke, hugged her. She'd always been warm, smiling at every one of the guys. Those smiles weren't fake either, they always reached her eyes...those beautiful blue eyes. She hugged back and then every boy did the same which at first surprised her but she went along with it. She knew this was a huge game for these kids. Just a few months after most had graduated from high school and now they'd be on national TV going against the top team in the country. 35-point underdogs which angered her. These boys weren't that bad...14 points, maybe but 5 touchdowns!? She warmly embraced the boys giving each an encouraging squeeze.
Doug was used to having his team crowding behind him and as he looked back, he at first saw only his assistants and then the boys trickling out. 'What was causing the bottleneck?' he wondered. He wanted to ask them what happened but instead went over to shake Wallace Prescott's hand, "Good luck. Let's have a good game," Doug said to the older man.
Wallace nodded, "I'm hoping to. Long bus ride. Let's hope your boys can keep up so the fans don't leave at halftime as they usually do," he said as he pulled the young coach close. "I know this is all new to you so don't let it get to you. We have a big game against Northern next week so tell your boys no hard fouls." He chuckled as if he said something funny, squeezed Doug's hand hard, and then abruptly pulled away. Doug felt a surge of anger and wanted to mutter, "What an asshole," but smiled and bit his tongue knowing the cameras were on them.
The game started slow with both teams finding it hard to score and shockingly, the team that had been scoring in the 80s was held to 26 points at halftime. Doug led his boys into the locker room feeling a huge sense of pride. 26 - 20 was not bad. Not leading but just two possessions separating the teams. He felt satisfied as he'd gone away from trying to outscore other teams to pressing and hounding the other team's top players. The kids sure responded. He knew Prescott focused on his offensive scheming and not on his defense.
After they all toweled off and took their seats, Doug looked at each boy. "I am so proud of you. Willis has 3 rebounds, Thompson has 6 points." he looked at two of the boys, "Tim, shit! What can I say? 3 blocks? Daryl, you're the leading scorer with 10 points and you're all over Thompson. We're down by 6...only 6 points. I want you to change nothing. I know this is where I say they've taken away our perimeter shooting, or there are no driving lanes, but we're making them frustrated. They came in here expecting their starters to be resting in the 2nd half. Came in here assuming they'd be pissed at their coach since they weren't able to pad their stats at our expense. You know what? They're going to have to try something new. They're going to have to play basketball, play harder than they have all season." He looked at each boy, "You own them. You've all played your asses off all season and they haven't. You own them...say it, say it with me," he said firmly, "We. Own. Them!" they all said loudly. Every face looked like they knew it, too.
