THE OUT OF BOUNDS PLAY
by
Mordecai Goldberg
THE CHARACTERS
HEAD COACH...A man in his 60's.
ASSISTANT COACH...A man in his 20's.
THE SCENE
As audience enters, HEAD and ASSISTANT COACHES are discovered on stage seated on pair of folding chairs which may or may not be flanked by similar chairs comprising ‘bench’ of an invisible basketball team. Now and then the coaches will react to events taking place on court. Referee's whistle is occasionally heard. There may or may not be additional sounds of crowd and/or those made by invisible players as they traverse court. Behind coaches’ chairs there is a painted backdrop representing a crowd sitting in what is referred to as ‘the bleachers.’ Periodically HEAD COACH will turn and gaze at bleachers.
The play begins when both coaches rise and react to an event occurring on the court.
PART ONE
ASSISTANT COACH: We want to call a timeout, don't we coach?
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] What's the score look like?
ASSISTANT COACH: What difference does the score make at this juncture? It is axiomatic that we call a timeout prior to Kirby's attempt at making his 2nd freethrow, isn't it?
HEAD COACH: Before we get into what is and what is not axiomatic, I thought I just asked you what the score looked like.
ASSISTANT COACH: We are down by 2 points.
HEAD COACH: All right—
ASSISTANT COACH: [After pause.] Coach, there are only 2 seconds left on the clock and, having made his 1st freethrow, Kirby is about ready to attempt his bonus shot. We have no choice but to call a timeout immediately!!
HEAD COACH: If we opt for a timeout now we will be putting Kirby on ice—which is exactly what our opponents would want to see happen, right?
ASSISTANT COACH: But they are not doing that, are they? And why aren't our opponents doing that? Because icing Kirby is the last thing in the world they would want to do!
HEAD COACH: Well I say it is too soon to speak on that subject. I say we will just wait and see what our opponents want to do and what they don't want to do. [Turns attention to court.]
ASSISTANT COACH: Let me get this straight: you don't actually want Kirby to make that 2nd charity shot—do you?
HEAD COACH: What are you talking about? Of course I want him to make it. We need every point we can get in a close game like this.
ASSISTANT COACH: We are talking about us being down by a deuce with only 2 seconds left to play! What good is 1 lousy point if they get possession of the ball after Kirby makes his charity toss?
HEAD COACH: What kind of a crazy question is that?
ASSISTANT COACH: Damnation coach, Kirby has got to miss that shot! It is absolutely critical! In a situation like this it is obligatory!
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] Obligatory? There are no obligatory situations in basketball. That is what coaching is all about, son.
ASSISTANT COACH: In a situation like the one we find ourselves in now it is obligatory for Kirby to avoid making his 2nd freethrow and for us to get the rebound from his missed shot and then score a deuce from the field. That will put us into overtime, and O.T. is our only chance of winning this game!
HEAD COACH: Overtime? Are you losing your marbles? This is still the 1st half of the game!
ASSISTANT COACH: This is the 2nd half of the game, coach! The ballgame is on the line! There are only 2 seconds left between you and the alltime record for the most wins! This is it, coach—your last chance to make basketball history!
HEAD COACH: You're wrong. It can't be the 2nd half. Look at that score. That is a 1st half score. [Turns attention to court.]
ASSISTANT COACH: There isn't enough time for us to sit here arguing about what half this is, coach. Are you or are you not going to signal for a timeout?
HEAD COACH: How many have we got left?
ASSISTANT COACH: How many what?
HEAD COACH: [Turning to face ASSISTANT COACH.] Timeouts! [Turns attention to bleachers.] Or is it timesout?
ASSISTANT COACH: I think we have 2.
HEAD COACH: You think? You think we have 2 timesout left! Somehow "timesout" doesn't sound right either—
ASSISTANT COACH: What difference does it make? With only 2 seconds left who cares how many timeouts we have in hand?
HEAD COACH: It can make one heck of a difference, sonny boy—one heck of a difference. I've seen 3 timeouts called in 2 seconds! I think that was in the Purdue game during those semifinals about 12 years ago. 3 timesout in 2 seconds! Any timeouts we have left might come in handy later on.
ASSISTANT COACH: What later on? There isn't going to be any tomorrow if Kirby scores on his next freethrow!
HEAD COACH: We have a whole half to play!
ASSISTANT COACH: I'm telling you coach, this is the 2nd half!
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] Why doesn't it say so on the scoreboard?
ASSISTANT COACH: The scoreboard never indicates what half the game is in.
HEAD COACH: You’re saying the scoreboard never indicates what half of the game is being played? Is that the position you are taking? Well, that is certainly news to me. Yes sir! I have been coaching basketball for more than 40 years and that is news to me! [Turns attention to bleachers.]
ASSISTANT COACH: The scoreboard doesn't have to indicate what half it is—
HEAD COACH: It doesn't? And why is that the case?
ASSISTANT COACH: Because everyone knows what half it is.
HEAD COACH: Everyone except you, that is. [Turns attention to court.]
ASSISTANT COACH: It isn't I who am confused about what half we are playing.
HEAD COACH: Meaning what—that I am the one who is confused? I, who have spent my entire adult life committed—no, dedicated—to the sport of—
ASSISTANT COACH: Are we or are we not going to call that timeout!
HEAD COACH: I ought to know a 1st half score when I see one.
ASSISTANT COACH: The 2nd half score looks like a 1st half score because, unfortunately, our opponents have forced us into playing their kind of slow tempo low scoring game.
HEAD COACH: That's not the way I see it. The way I see it is that we have been forcing the tempo according to our gameplan—a gameplan in which we anticipated a close 1st half followed by a pullaway in the final 10 minutes of the 2nd half when our relentless fullcourt pressure takes its toll on their suspect stamina. I think I know what your problem is. You are confusing last night's game with tonight's game.
ASSISTANT COACH: There wasn't any game last night. That was the night before.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] What was the night before?
ASSISTANT COACH: The semifinal game.
HEAD COACH: How can that be, when this is the semifinal game?.
ASSISTANT COACH: This is the final game, coach. It is now or never! [HEAD COACH turns attention to court. Pause.] If you don't, I'm warning you—I will.
HEAD COACH: Will what?
ASSISTANT COACH: Call a timeout!
HEAD COACH: By whose authority?
ASSISTANT COACH: Let's not quibble about "authority." We both know who is running this show.
HEAD COACH: I don't call a clarification of the authority issue "quibbling!"
ASSISTANT COACH: You know what I mean.
HEAD COACH: No I do not. I really cannot imagine what you mean when you say—"you know what I mean." [Turns attention to bleachers.] What exactly do you mean?
ASSISTANT COACH: Do we really have the time to open up that can of worms?
HEAD COACH: I don't see why not. Kirby hasn't even received the ball from the referee. The clock is stopped. I think we should understand where we are both coming from on a strategic basis before getting into the tactical considerations related to Kirby's forthcoming freebie.
ASSISTANT COACH: It's your ball game, coach.
HEAD COACH: Yes. It is. It certainly is my ball game.
ASSISTANT COACH: If you want to blow it—
HEAD COACH: I will blow it!
ASSISTANT COACH: I can't believe you really mean that.
HEAD COACH: Have you ever heard me say anything I didn't mean?
ASSISTANT COACH: Maybe not coach, but this is your last chance to win victory number 1000!
HEAD COACH: You mean 1001. Last night was victory number 1000.
ASSISTANT COACH: We didn't play last night!
HEAD COACH: Alright—if we didn't play last night, what did we do?
ASSISTANT COACH: We attended that testimonial dinner.
HEAD COACH: What testimonial dinner?
ASSISTANT COACH: The one organized by the television network.
HEAD COACH: You mean the testimonial we attended last year—after winning our 12th consecutive national championship?
ASSISTANT COACH: Last year's testimonial wasn't a network affair; it was arranged by the alumni—
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] Last night's semifinal victory was my 1000th and that is that. As far as I'm concerned this game is only the icing on that cake. I would like to win it, of course, but the pressure is off of me to win that "big one." I distinctly remember Louise saying our lives might be a little easier to live now with that particular monkey off of our backs.
ASSISTANT COACH: Believe me coach, your last victory was 2 nights ago and it was only number 999.
HEAD COACH: Only 999!
ASSISTANT COACH: You know what I mean.
HEAD COACH: There you go again!
ASSISTANT COACH: 999 is one hell of an achievement, coach; but everyone expects you to win 1000. If you don't it will always seem as if you fell 1 short of the magic number—that in spite of everything you ended up a loser.
HEAD COACH: Is that what they will think of me—that I ended up as a loser? Well, let them. I don't give a damn what "they" think of me anymore. As a matter of curiosity—before I came along, what was the record for most wins as a college coach?
ASSISTANT COACH: The exact number? I don't know.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] A round number will do.
ASSISTANT COACH: Something in the neighborhood of 650 or 675 I think.
HEAD COACH: 650 or 675! Not even close! I am in a league by myself, sonny boy!
ASSISTANT COACH: It still isn't going to look good—going out with 999.
HEAD COACH: But I am not going out with 999. I am going out with 1001! I have not given up on this game yet!
ASSISTANT COACH: You're making a mistake.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] I don't make mistakes. You don't win 1000 games by making mistakes.
ASSISTANT COACH: Alright—call it a miscalculation.
HEAD COACH: Why don't we call this whole conversation off?
ASSISTANT COACH: I'm only doing this for you, coach.
HEAD COACH: Oh?
ASSISTANT COACH: There is certainly nothing in it for me—one way or another.
HEAD COACH: Is that so?
ASSISTANT COACH: Of course it is. As your assistant coach I am not responsible for the outcome of this game.
HEAD COACH: We can agree on that.
ASSISTANT COACH: But that doesn't give you the right to—
HEAD COACH: Yes? The right to do what?
ASSISTANT COACH: Denigrate my advice.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] Denigrating your advice—is that what you think I'm doing?
ASSISTANT COACH: What else can I think? You must know that I am right.
HEAD COACH: About what?
ASSISTANT COACH: About calling a timeout! About what half of the game this is! About the number of victories you have accumulated!
HEAD COACH: Believe me—and I say this in all candor—I do not believe you are right in any of those particulars.
ASSISTANT COACH: What I can't figure out is why you are jealous of me. Logically it should be the other way around, shouldn't it?
HEAD COACH: You really believe that I am jealous of you?
ASSISTANT COACH: It's the only plausible explanation for your unreasonable behavior towards me.
HEAD COACH: I wasn't aware our relationship was developing along such invidious lines.
ASSISTANT COACH: Maybe it will help if I try to set the record straight on something—
HEAD COACH: Shoot.[Turns attention to court.]
ASSISTANT COACH: I am not in your class coachingwise. Nobody will ever be in your class. On that score you have got nothing to worry about.
HEAD COACH: I am not worried. I have never been worried. I couldn't care less if you or anyone like you came along and beat my record. It's only numbers, statistics, meaningless ciphers. That is what I have always told the boys who played for me and that is what I told you when we agreed on the terms of your assistantship.
ASSISTANT COACH: That is what you told us coach, but we never believed it.
HEAD COACH: You never believed. Yes, that has become obvious.
ASSISTANT COACH: Nobody ever believed it.
HEAD COACH: I could tell you were different from all the others; right from the start—even in your playing days—deep down you were spiritually unlike any of the other young men I had ever coached. I even mentioned that odd fact to my wife, Louise—which is something I rarely did—talk about basketball with her.
ASSISTANT COACH: What relevancy do our personality problems of the past have now?
HEAD COACH: They are of the essence, sonny boy—the essence!
ASSISTANT COACH: As long as we are baring our souls, coach, I must tell you I deeply resent being called "sonny boy."
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] Alright. I will concede that one to you. What would you like to be called?
ASSISTANT COACH: I haven't really given the subject all that much consideration.
HEAD COACH: I suppose I should call you "coach." That is the customary title for an assistant coach, is it not? I see no reason to deviate from what is customary.
ASSISTANT COACH: The point is, that—
HEAD COACH: The point is what? You've made your point. You have expressed your resentment and I have conceded the merit of your complaint. So what remains to be discussed?
ASSISTANT COACH: It isn't as simple as that. Changing what you call me doesn't change your basic attitude towards me.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] You want to keep harping on that jealousy thing, don't you!
ASSISTANT COACH: You yourself said that your attitude towards me was different right from the beginning—
HEAD COACH: It wasn't my attitude—you were different. That is a hard and cold fact of life. Out of the 500 players I have coached you alone stood apart. That is not an attitudinal phenomenon. There is no subjectivity involved. It is plain statistics. I didn't come to you. You came to me; into my life; into the private realm of my senses. I did not conjure you up, did I? I did not invent you, did I?
ASSISTANT COACH: That doesn't mean you didn't try!
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] To do what?
ASSISTANT COACH: Skip it.
HEAD COACH: What is this? I ask you a question you have been begging me to ask since our relationship began and you tell me to "skip it?"
ASSISTANT COACH: Right now we have some very crucial coaching decisions to make.
HEAD COACH: I thought we had settled that.
ASSISTANT COACH: Settled what?
HEAD COACH: Everything: The coaching milestone I reached by winning last night's semifinal game; Kirby's need to make his 2nd freethrow; the wisdom of saving our remaining timeouts; the fact that this is not the 2nd half of an unusually low scoring game, but the 1st half of what is an exceptionally high scoring game—and that Louise and Damien are probably not having an affair.
ASSISTANT COACH: Louise and who are probably not having an affair?
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] My private life is none of your business!
ASSISTANT COACH: The point I have been trying to make is that you have nothing to fear from me?
HEAD COACH: You and Louise? Don't be ridiculous. [Turns attention to bleachers.] My wife is not attracted to athletic types—
ASSISTANT COACH: You have nothing to fear from me in regard to your coaching record—in regard to the legend you are leaving behind. In those respects I have no intentions of rivaling your claim to coaching fame.
HEAD COACH: No intentions perhaps, but if you found yourself pressurized by a combination of certain circumstances doesn't that statement leave you the room to maneuver yourself into a position where it becomes conceivable you might try to surpass me?
ASSISTANT COACH: No.
HEAD COACH: But that idea must have crossed your mind. You wouldn't be normal if it hadn't. 1002 victories! 13 straight national championships! Why not?
ASSISTANT COACH: Because such an idea is impossible. I would have to go on coaching until I was in my 70s to even have a mathematical chance of coming close. After all, you began coaching when you were barely 22—
HEAD COACH: 5 days before my 21st birthday actually.
ASSISTANT COACH: Nobody starts that young anymore.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] I had an unfair advantage—is that what you're saying?
ASSISTANT COACH: No.
HEAD COACH: That's what it sounded like. It sounded like sour grapes.
ASSISTANT COACH: While I have your attention coach—are we or are we not going to call that timeout?
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] So, you're still convinced this is the 2nd half!
ASSISTANT COACH: It is the 2nd half!
HEAD COACH: Alright. Just for argument's sake, supposing it is the 2nd half and we are down by 2 points with 2 seconds to play and Kirby has 1 shot from the charity stripe coming—is that the situation as you see it?
ASSISTANT COACH: Yes!
HEAD COACH: And if we win this game I close out my career with another perfect season—my 15th and another national championship—my 12th in a row; and a total of 1000 lifetime victories? Is that the picture you are painting?
ASSISTANT COACH: That is exactly how I see the picture, yes.
HEAD COACH: And, given that set of circumstances, what is it you are recommending?
ASSISTANT COACH: I am recommending that we call a timeout immediately. I am recommending that we order Kirby to deliberately miss his freethrow. I am—
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] Why do we order Kirby to deliberately miss making his free throw?
ASSISTANT COACH: Because if he makes it we add only 1 point to our score—which leaves us still trailing by 1 point with our opponents in control of the ball and only 2 seconds remaining on the clock.
HEAD COACH: Alright, alright—I just wanted to understand exactly where you are coming from—[Turns attention to bleachers.]
ASSISTANT COACH: All I am saying is that we order Kirby to miss that next freethrow—to miss it hard off the backboard so we get a decent chance for the rebound.
HEAD COACH: Isn't there something in the rules about misusing the backboard on a foul shot that one deliberately avoids making?
ASSISTANT COACH: Kirby can make it look like a genuine miss.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] He can?
ASSISTANT COACH: I am absolutely confident in his ability to do that, coach. Before he takes the shot we put our tallest timber in for rebounding purposes. Connors, Green and Turtledove—
HEAD COACH: Turtledove? In a critical situation like this? He hasn't got an awful lot of tournament experience—
ASSISTANT COACH: That's true, but he is 7 foot 1—
HEAD COACH: He needs another year to mature before he is ready for the pressurecooking environment of Final Four play—
ASSISTANT COACH: He is a tree and a tree is all we need right now; just someone who can get his hands on the ball when Kirby misses that shot and then send up a Hail Mary—
HEAD COACH: A Hail Mary?
ASSISTANT COACH: With only 2 seconds on the clock there will not be enough time for anything fancy; just get that rebound, shoot and pray—
HEAD COACH: 2 seconds is a long time. 2 seconds can be an eternity. The timekeeper has to be sure Kirby has actually missed his freethrow before he presses the button that starts the clock going. I think it’s fair to assume he will be taken somewhat by surprise because he knows Kirby is not only our best freethrower but one of the best freethrowers in the nation. The timekeeper will not be expecting him to miss. So there is the element of surprise to consider. And added to that element is the time it takes for the electrical signal to travel from the timekeeper's button to the scoreboard clock—
ASSISTANT COACH: Well, that is almost instantaneous, isn't it?
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] Almost, yes—but almost is not the same as instantaneous, is it!
ASSISTANT COACH: We are talking about the speed of light!
HEAD COACH: We are?
ASSISTANT COACH: Yes! The electrical signal travels from the timekeeper's button to the scoreboard at the speed of light.
HEAD COACH: Electricity does not travel at the speed of light.
ASSISTANT COACH: Yes it does.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] Are you sure about that?
ASSISTANT COACH: Positively. Without the shadow of a doubt.
HEAD COACH: Are you taking the resistance of the wires into account? You do have to factor that in, do you not?
ASSISTANT COACH: Even so, it’s not much of a factor if the electricity is initially traveling at a speed of 186,000 miles per second!
HEAD COACH: You mean per minute. 186,000 miles per minute. That is the speed of light.
ASSISTANT COACH: The speed of light is 186,000 miles per second.
HEAD COACH: It can't be. That would be incredible. Nothing can move that fast. Do you realize how fast that is?
ASSISTANT COACH: The referee is going to hand the ball to Kirby!!
HEAD COACH: But he hasn't handed it to him yet, has he?
ASSISTANT COACH: He is holding up 1 finger to warn the players this shot is reboundable!
HEAD COACH: He may be holding up 1 finger but has he explained the nature of this freethrow to the players yet—something he is required to do before handing the ball to Kirby? [Turns attention to court.] Besides, one of Kirby's shoelaces is undone. Kirby will notice that and bend down to tie it—
ASSISTANT COACH: Not necessarily. He may not notice it.
HEAD COACH: If he doesn't we can call it to his attention, can't we? There is no rule against doing that. In fact it is mandatory for us to bring such a potentially dangerous condition to the attention of the officials.
ASSISTANT COACH: True, but the crowd noise will make that impractical—
HEAD COACH: Nonsense! The crowd won't be making any noise; not at a time like this, if, as you say, everything is on the line now! You should be able to hear the proverbial pin dropping! That is what makes a shot like this so difficult. It would be better for Kirby if there were some background noise. Instead, the tension is so thick in here you can cut it with a knife!
ASSISTANT COACH: Then you agree with me that this is the final 2 seconds!
HEAD COACH: I thought we were speaking hypothetically?
ASSISTANT COACH: We are. And, speaking hypothetically, If you want crowd noise maybe we could orchestrate some if we call that timeout.
HEAD COACH: Orchestrate?
ASSISTANT COACH: We can plan everything—write a scenario the way we want it to unfold; including the crowd noise.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] That sounds awfully Nixonian to me. "Orchestrate." "Scenario." Those aren’t the kind of words that belong in the context of a collegiate athletic event.
ASSISTANT COACH: What is coaching all about if it isn't the manipulation of people and events—or attempting to manipulate people and events?
HEAD COACH: Is that your definition of coaching?
ASSISTANT COACH: It's certainly part of it. [Pause.] Well?
HEAD COACH: Well, what?
ASSISTANT COACH: Have you made your decision about calling for a timeout?
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] There is something else to consider. If Kirby makes his freethrow our opponents will have the ball but they will have it out of bounds. Accordingly, the pressure will be on them to inbound it successfully.
ASSISTANT COACH: What pressure? They will be up by 1 point with only 2 seconds left to play!
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] Still, they must get the ball into play before the clock starts. The young man they assign to do that will find himself burdened with an unprecedented amount of responsibility. He has got to do it in less than 5 seconds or see the possession of the ball turned over to us under our own basket! He must be concerned with the very real possibility of our intercepting his inbound pass. He knows how much is riding on this single play—their 1st NCAA championship, the end of our monumental winning streak, the scorn (or the praise) of a nationwide television audience. And those are only some of the thoughts that will be racing through his adolescent mind! The designated target of his inbound pass has been told to make a certain maneuver, but he knows we are wise enough to probably anticipate that maneuver and intercept his pass with a countermaneuver of our own. Then again the ball might simply slip from his sweatslickened fingers. The fact is—anything could happen! His mind might become paralyzed and those precious 5 seconds tick off the clock before he's aware of what is happening. In which case the ball would be turned over to us. And that is when we should probably call what could be our last timeout!
ASSISTANT COACH: If there is still enough time to call a timeout.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] How can that be when we have those 2 seconds on the clock?
ASSISTANT COACH: Ah, but there might not be 2 full seconds on the clock!
HEAD COACH: The scoreboard says there are 2 seconds remaining, does it not?
ASSISTANT COACH: Yes. But we have no way of knowing how much of that 1st second has already been used.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] What do you mean by "that 1st second?"
ASSISTANT COACH: I mean the second that will be expiring when the number "2" is replaced by the number "1."
HEAD COACH: But number "2" appeared just after Kirby was fouled, didn't it?
ASSISTANT COACH: True. But between the time Kirby was fouled and the time the timekeeper stopped keeping time some time elapsed from the time shown as the time remaining.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] There has to be something wrong with that analysis—
ASSISTANT COACH: In reality there might be just 1 and 1/100th of a second left!
HEAD COACH: And we have no way of knowing whether it is 2 full seconds or 1 and 1/100th of a second—or anything in between?
ASSISTANT COACH: Not with any precision, no.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] Something ought to be done about that.
ASSISTANT COACH: The referee is handing the ball to Kirby!
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] He is offering Kirby the ball, but Kirby has not taken it from him yet—
ASSISTANT COACH: Is Kirby looking down at his untied shoelaces?
HEAD COACH: No, but Edwards appears to have noticed Kirby's untied shoelaces and may just be on the threshold of imparting that fact to Kirby or to the referee.
ASSISTANT COACH: Are you sure about that? It looks to me as if Edwards is looking over here to see if we want him to call a timeout.
HEAD COACH: There is no doubt in my mind about the fact his eyes are focused downward. He cannot miss seeing that Kirby's shoelaces are in need of being tied.
ASSISTANT COACH: Even so coach, what difference will it make if Kirby actually does take the time to tie his shoelaces?
HEAD COACH: What?
ASSISTANT COACH: The basic situation will remain the same since the clock is already stopped.
HEAD COACH: I thought you wanted to keep the clock stopped so we could gain some additional time in which to determine just what our basic situation is! We have yet to reach a consensus on whether this is the 1st or 2nd half for instance—a fact which could not be of more supreme significance in the formulation of our strategy vis a vis Kirby's 2nd freethrow. Isn't that the thrust of what you have been contending? If this is the 1st half and Kirby makes that shot we go into the dressing room down by a single point instead of a pair of points. If it is the 2nd half that single point would, I agree, be nothing more than an exercise in futility.
ASSISTANT COACH: We haven't got the time to find out for certain which half this is.
HEAD COACH: That's the point I am trying to make! If Kirby ties his shoelaces you should have just enough time to check with the timekeeper and find out officially what half we are now playing.
ASSISTANT COACH: But you are forgetting—it not only takes time going to the timekeeper's table, it takes the same amount of time returning from the timekeeper's table. Besides which, when I ask the timekeeper what half this is he will not believe he has heard the question correctly and will ask me to repeat it—
HEAD COACH: Why won't he believe he's heard the question correctly? It's a perfectly straightforward question, isn't it?
ASSISTANT COACH: No! It isn't a perfectly straightforward question! It's a perfectly unbelievable question for a basketball coach to ask an official timekeeper—
HEAD COACH: Assistant basketball coach.
ASSISTANT COACH: That doesn't change anything. From the timekeeper's point of view my inquiry is being made in a representative capacity. That is the role of an assistant coach in such a menial undertaking.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] Still it is not I who first raised the issue of what half this is.
ASSISTANT COACH: Either way it is a totally unbelievable question for anyone to ask. The timekeeper will say: "What did you say?"—forcing me to repeat the question, which he will more than likely repeat back to me again, whereupon I will have to say—"Yes, you heard me right" and maybe even repeat the question a 3rd time. It is not improbable he might even ask me if I am pulling his leg, thinking such an absurd question could only be a joke. And so forth until it is too late for the official answer to be of any use. Kirby will have taken his 2nd shot, made it, and the game will be lost.
HEAD COACH: Or: Kirby makes the shot and the 1st half of a very close game comes to an end. As a matter of fact, if I am not mistaken, I recall hearing about—or reading about—a case where a coach did make a tactical blunder by erroneously assuming he was in the final seconds of a championship game when in reality it was only the final seconds of the 1st half.
ASSISTANT COACH: You're talking about something you saw in the scenario of a television show! A work of fiction obviously written by someone with only an armchair acquaintanceship with the finer points of courtside analysis.
HEAD COACH: Fact or fiction, it certainly can happen that after coaching hundreds and hundreds of basketball games—so many of which are similar, if not identical; one arrives at a point where one begins wondering whether there is any purpose in devoting one's life to such an endlessly repetitious phenomenon. [Turns attention to court.] No. It is entirely possible for the most experienced coach to become confused. In that television script 1 of the teams is down by 2 points with 1 freethrow coming and only 2 seconds left on the clock—a situation that is not unlike the one we find ourselves in right now: and a situation that is not at all uncommon to many, if not most basketball games. One might even say such a situation is what basketball is supposed to be all about. Ideally every game should arrive at precisely the kind of crisis we are attempting to resolve. So it seems reasonable to me that this fictitious coach's mind might have flashed back to some previous game and time—with all of the psychic baggage that kind of ontological warpage can produce; including the penetration of such ostensibly unrelated matters as the state of one's marital affairs. All of which helps explain why that coach looked up at the scoreboard only to discover it did not indicate what half was being played. And no doubt the score misled him because it was an unusually low scoring game like the one we played last night. Accordingly it was natural, if not inevitable, for him to make the erroneous assumption that—
ASSISTANT COACH: Edwards is walking over to Kirby now! He is whispering into his ear!
HEAD COACH: What did I tell you! That should take some of the pressure off. [Turns attention to bleachers.] Now maybe we can concentrate on a more rational examination of our options—
ASSISTANT COACH: What is that supposed to mean?
HEAD COACH: You have got to learn to keep your emotions under control. It is always like this in the final seconds of every close game.
ASSISTANT COACH: Then you are conceding these are the final seconds?
HEAD COACH: I am not conceding anything. I have an open mind on the subject. That is all I am asking of you.
ASSISTANT COACH: There is a difference between our positions—a critical difference. If I'm wrong there will be another 20 minutes to play; 20 full minutes in which to compensate for any negative consequences resulting from the decision to have Kirby deliberately avoid making his 2nd freethrow. On the other hand, if you’re the one who is wrong there will be no opportunity for us to correct the mistake. On that kind of failsafe basis alone my theory ought to prevail.
HEAD COACH: You would really like that, wouldn't you? To prevail, I mean.
ASSISTANT COACH: The argument I just made has nothing to do with me "prevailing" or "not prevailing"—
HEAD COACH: Don't hand me that! I've been through this same discussion many times with many assist coaches!
ASSISTANT COACH: [Aside.] Maybe too many times.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] What was that?
ASSISTANT COACH: I said—
HEAD COACH: I'm not deaf!
ASSISTANT COACH: I said, "maybe too many times." Maybe you have had this same discussion once too often.
HEAD COACH: You think I'm confused—like that fictitious coach we were talking about?
ASSISTANT COACH: Does it matter what I think?
HEAD COACH: Of course it matters! I have the right to know the state of your mind in evaluating any recommendations you might make.
ASSISTANT COACH: The state of my mind is simply that I want to help you win this game. I don't want to see it needlessly thrown away because of a silly misunderstanding. I sincerely want to see you go out in the blaze of glory you so richly deserve. That is the state of my mind.
HEAD COACH: And you truly believe that the winning or losing of this single game will have a profound effect on the sum total of my career?
ASSISTANT COACH: I don't know. It could. The way you play your final game might just influence the perception people will have of everything else you have done. In any event you should do all you can to at least create the impression you are in total control.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] That's a bit unfair, isn't it—after 40 years and 1000 wins to be remembered only for your last game?
ASSISTANT COACH: When it comes to life and basketball we don't make the rules. I believe those are your own words, coach. And in the real world 999 is just not as good as an even 1000.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] Is that it?
ASSISTANT COACH: Is what it?
HEAD COACH: You’re terrified I might stay on for 1 more season if I do in fact lose what turns out not to be potential victory number 1001, but number 1000!
ASSISTANT COACH: Why would that bother me? And besides, you would not do it.
HEAD COACH: Why wouldn't I? Am I that far over the hill?
ASSISTANT COACH: You said it, coach, not me.
HEAD COACH: Yes, I said it. But there are things I am entitled to say that you are not entitled to affirm with such obvious relish.
ASSISTANT COACH: That is true—
HEAD COACH: I can say that I am the greatest coach this game has ever seen. Can you say that?
ASSISTANT COACH: Certainly not.
HEAD COACH: I can say that I might be the greatest coach any game has ever seen!
ASSISTANT COACH: A definite possibility.
HEAD COACH: And I can say that whether I finish up with 999 victories or an even 1000.
ASSISTANT COACH: Indeed you can.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] After all, that is 1000—or even 999 more victories than you have won, is it not?
ASSISTANT COACH: There is no question about that.
HEAD COACH: As a matter of fact, you haven't got a single victory to your credit, have you?
ASSISTANT COACH: In that respect, yes—I am still a virgin.
HEAD COACH: So when I say I am over the hill I am talking about a hill that is higher than any hill you will ever climb—or ever think of climbing!
ASSISTANT COACH: A mountainous hill!
HEAD COACH: Do I detect a note of disrespect in that?
ASSISTANT COACH: Do you want me to admit I will never be the coach you are?
HEAD COACH: You don't have to admit it. Your record speaks for itself.
ASSISTANT COACH: Now wait a minute!
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] Well? I am waiting.
ASSISTANT COACH: Forget it.
HEAD COACH: You haven't got the guts to say what is really on your mind.
ASSISTANT COACH: I will tell you this: there is no way you could make it through another season. It would be a fiasco, and you know it. Everybody in basketball knows it. I doubt if the university would give you another contract—assuming you were foolish enough to ask for one.
HEAD COACH: You’re saying the winningest coach in the history of this game could not get another contract if he wanted one?
ASSISTANT COACH: That is what I said. That is what they are all saying.
HEAD COACH: Who is this "they" you keep talking about—the pundits who said I was a hasbeen last year? Well, surprise, surprise! Here I am on the verge of winning yet another national championship! [Turns attention to bleachers.]
ASSISTANT COACH: And it's no secret how you got here.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] What's not a secret?
ASSISTANT COACH: Must I tell you?
HEAD COACH: Yes, yes—I think you must!
ASSISTANT COACH: You couldn't have got this far without me. I carried you to the Final Four this year.
HEAD COACH: You carried me? You carried me? Am I hearing you correctly?
ASSISTANT COACH: It is a fact.
HEAD COACH: All this time you thought—you were carrying me!
ASSISTANT COACH: Not thought. I was carrying you.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] I certainly wish I had known that!
ASSISTANT COACH: The fact that you didn't is significant, is it not?
HEAD COACH: Is it?
ASSISTANT COACH: Yes, it is. Highly significant.
HEAD COACH: Highly significant!
ASSISTANT COACH: Highly significant that you didn’t know what was going on: who was really running the club; who had established rapport with the players; who made all of the really tough decisions.
HEAD COACH: Oh my!
ASSISTANT COACH: The truth is you were finished at the end of last season—
HEAD COACH: Was I really?
ASSISTANT COACH: But you held on to bag that 1000th victory. I can understand that.
HEAD COACH: Thank you!
ASSISTANT COACH: Everybody understood that.
HEAD COACH: Thank everybody!
ASSISTANT COACH: But one more season they won't buy. One more season would be pushing your luck. There is a fine line between being a living legend and a fossil.
HEAD COACH: This is fascinating!
ASSISTANT COACH: But none of that matters right now. Right now the only thing that matters is what we can do about salvaging this game. Kirby is already tying his shoelaces. In a few seconds he will pick up the ball and attempt the making of that 2nd freethrow. For us the question is this: are we going to let him think we want him to make it? [Pause.] Well?
HEAD COACH: Right now I don't care. Why should I care? To think that someone like you is going to inherit this team—this team and the tradition of this team that I have spent a lifetime creating—
ASSISTANT COACH: That is bullshit—pure bullshit!
HEAD COACH: I knew that was coming! Oh yes, I knew it was only a matter of time before you broke the Golden Rule about using those profanities which have become such a common part of the collegiate athletic scene.
ASSISTANT COACH: I apologize for that. But I was provoked.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] Provoked? By who? By me? I provoked you into uttering that obscenity?
ASSISTANT COACH: I deeply resent your doubting of my motives. Goddammit coach, I only wanted to see you go out with class—
HEAD COACH: What would you know about "class," foulmouth? What does a cockroach like you know about "class?"
ASSISTANT COACH: Now we are even.
HEAD COACH: Even? We'll never be even. We’re not in the same league, sonny boy!
ASSISTANT COACH: If you say so.
HEAD COACH: Do you have any idea what this game was like 40 years ago?
ASSISTANT COACH: I have a pretty fair idea—
HEAD COACH: Compared with today's standards it was primitive.
ASSISTANT COACH: Like the void before that 1st day of creation—
HEAD COACH: They had just removed the bottom from the peach basket!
ASSISTANT COACH: Incredible!
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] It was men like me who made basketball into what it has become—which is more than just a game.
ASSISTANT COACH: It's an institution—a multimillion dollar industry!
HEAD COACH: Yes, yes—it is all of that, but more importantly—[As if addressing balance of this statement to someone sitting in bleachers—with intense emotional emphasis.]—it is an art form! That is something most people do not understand!
ASSISTANT COACH: [Reacting as if previous statement was directed at him.] You’ll get no argument from me on that point, coach. No sir, on that point you are preaching to the converted!
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] Just so we understand each other.
ASSISTANT COACH: When it comes to the history of basketball I am, and probably will always remain, a total nonentity while your eternal glory is second only to Dr. Naismith himself!
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers—again addressing someone in particular.] That is not very far from the truth!
ASSISTANT COACH: Nevertheless, coach, it’s also true you are going to lose your last game unless we call for a timeout.
HEAD COACH: I am not going to lose my last game! I am going to win it!! [Turns attention to court.] And do you know why I am going to win it?
ASSISTANT COACH: It's simply a matter of pride, isn't it coach?
HEAD COACH: I am going to win it just to show you who is in control; to leave you with something to remember for the rest of your coaching life; an inspirational story you can tell to your assistant coach someday about how the Grand Old Man plucked his final game from the ashes of defeat!
ASSISTANT COACH: I would like that, coach—I would really like to tell that story someday! Do it! Show me! Make some more basketball history!
HEAD COACH: That is what I am doing! [Turns attention to bleachers.]
ASSISTANT COACH: You are not doing anything! The clock is ticking! Time is wasting! Precious grains of sand are escaping through your fingers!
HEAD COACH: No. Time is on our side. There are occasions when not doing anything is the proper thing to do. Hot heads don't win 1000 games; not if they coach for 100 years. This situation is fraught with complex factors that have yet to be properly identified, sorted and analyzed.
ASSISTANT COACH: Time is the only factor right now, coach!
HEAD COACH: Time is only one of the factors; and right now time is on our side.
ASSISTANT COACH: How can you say that? We're down by a deuce with only 2 seconds until the final whistle!
HEAD COACH: Kirby is still tying his shoelaces, isn't he? The referee hasn’t even handed him the ball yet. And after he has handed Kirby the ball, Kirby will manipulate it, fondle it, squeeze it, rotate it and bounce it 5, 6, 7—maybe even 8 times—according to his unique style of freethrowing. Then, after he has finished bouncing the ball he will go into that patented crouch of his and pump a few times; maybe 3, maybe 4 pumps—and then, and only then, will he actually release the ball. So there is plenty of time to call a timeout.
ASSISTANT COACH: Then you are still willing to consider a timeout as a viable option?
HEAD COACH: Of course it is a viable option! Do you think just because you are recommending we take a timeout I would veto the idea arbitrarily? I am not that pettyminded! No indeed! Whatever personal prejudices I might have—and I do have them, by God; I am only human after all—they never interfere with my decisionmaking processes.
ASSISTANT COACH: That's a relief, coach—but it doesn't help me understand why it is taking so long to decide something so obvious.
HEAD COACH: If doing the obvious was all that was required any halfwit watching his television set could do what we are doing. It is the very obviousness of your idea that bothers me, that leads me to believe it is fraught with hidden perils. If it is obvious to us it will be obvious to our opponents. If the other fellow knows what we are planning to do, by definition he will have an advantage over us, will he not?
ASSISTANT COACH: What could be more advantageous than the predicament they have already put us in? After 39 minutes and 58 seconds they lead by 1 bucket—a lead which will be insurmountable if they successfully inbound the ball in the event that Kirby makes his 2nd shot.
HEAD COACH: On the other hand, if Kirby sinks that shot we will only be down by 1 point. 1 single point! We will have reduced the margin of defeat to the smallest possible increment! And that is not an inconsequential achievement by any means! If we put ourselves in their shoes that 1 point lead is just about worthless. And it will become worthless if we can somehow manage to get the ball back and score.
ASSISTANT COACH: That is one very large "if," coach!
HEAD COACH: To us, maybe; but to them it is not. That possibility is something they have to live with—something they have to contend with—an eventuality they have no choice but to consider! Ask yourself this: Is there any coaching anxiety more dreaded than that which comes from having the slimmest of slim leads?
ASSISTANT COACH: They don't look very demoralized to me.
HEAD COACH: A fact which only reinforces the conviction I have about this being the 1st half of our game. If indeed we were approaching the climax they would be feeling the incredible tension that comes when you are on the edge of bringing off what would have to be recorded as the upset to end all upsets. False modesty should not compel us to underestimate what beating a man of my legendary status would mean to any lesser coach. Just contemplating such a possibility is enough to make the stoutest heart tremble. But that is manifestly not the case since they know we have another half to play and they also know what our record has been as a 2nd half team.
ASSISTANT COACH: I admit that is a cogent argument coach, but I repeat: the only safe course of action is to assume this is the 2nd half. We can't afford to run the risk of being wrong.
HEAD COACH: Either way—if we are wrong—the consequences could be fatal. You are asking me to sacrifice a point that is certain for 2 that are anything but a sure thing. Isn't that what your proposition boils down to?
ASSISTANT COACH: Yes!
HEAD COACH: But my bird in the hand could turn out to be worth your 2 in the bush.
ASSISTANT COACH: Bush or no bush: we have got to get a pair of birds in the next 2 seconds! Believe me, there is no tomorrow!
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] Even if that were true there are certain moral implications involved with your scheme—
ASSISTANT COACH: Moral implications! This is a basketball game!
HEAD COACH: As I understand it, you are proposing we tell Kirby to deliberately avoid making his next shot—
ASSISTANT COACH: We wouldn't be ordering him to commit genocide!
HEAD COACH: I understand what you’re saying. Still, that is something I have never done before—and there must be a good reason why I haven't.
ASSISTANT COACH: There is nothing in the rules prohibiting it—if, of course, it is executed with the appropriate degree of sophistication. The deliberately missed freethrow is no more illegal than an intentional foul that is intentionally made to look unintentional.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] It is not merely a question of interpreting the rules. My instincts tell me it goes much deeper than that. There is something fundamentally wrong with the concept of tampering with a pure shooter's raison d'etre—
ASSISTANT COACH: Holy smoke!
HEAD COACH: The pure shooter's entire organism should be entirely devoted to one purpose—to unthinkingly launch the ball on a trajectory that will put it through the center of that iron hoop. Now, if we introduce the notion that, in certain circumstances, one should sublimate behavior which is close to being a reflex action we run the risk of intellectualizing a phenomenon we have devoted our coaching lives to deintellectualize. Do you appreciate how catastrophic that would be to a player's central nervous system? It’s like telling a bird to stop flying or a fish to stop swimming. Once a pure shooter starts thinking about shooting he may never take another pure shot again.
ASSISTANT COACH: That is a totally fantastic theory—
HEAD COACH: Most of my theories have been fantastic. The fast break, the full court pressing defense, the high post offense, the jump shot—[Turns attention to bleachers.] They don't call me the "Picasso of roundball" for nothing! I have singlehandedly turned this game into an art form, and the coaching of it into an exact science! [Turns attention to court.] I am telling you there are fundamental principles involved here which cannot be ignored—
ASSISTANT COACH: What fundamental principles? This is a game whose only fundamental principle is winning! If missing a shot wins the game then the shot should be missed. That is all there is to it!
HEAD COACH: Are you sure about that?
ASSISTANT COACH: Yes. I don't believe in all that garbage about it being how you play the game that matters. Only losers make that argument after they lose.
HEAD COACH: But in the final analysis isn't winning itself another "instinct" we program into a college athlete in order to overcome his "natural" tendency not to take a game like basketball seriously
ASSISTANT COACH: Learning to acquire a killer instinct is the most important part of their education.
HEAD COACH: Even if that means permanently warping one's sense of ethical proportion? For us basketball is a way of life, but for the overwhelming majority of those we coach it is only an extracurricular activity meant merely to enhance the lessons they are taught in the classroom.
ASSISTANT COACH: Not in Kirby's case. He has NBA written all over him.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] That’s what bothers me. In addition to asking him to commit an unnatural act by missing his next shot we would all be conspiring to bend the rules of a game to their breaking point. I think we have a moral duty to analyze the implications of doing that—
ASSISTANT COACH: There are no implications if we win. Victory needs no justification. On the other hand, if Kirby makes that shot we will be analyzing its implications for the remainder of our lives!
HEAD COACH: Haven't I always said there could be a certain dignity in defeat?
ASSISTANT COACH: That's easy to say when you have always been a winner!
HEAD COACH: Maybe that is the principal reason for my string of victories.
ASSISTANT COACH: Then you are dead set against calling a timeout and instructing Kirby to miss his next shot?
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] No. My mind is still open. I am raising some of these issues in the hope of demonstrating to you that tactics are not the only thing that matters. There must be a solid foundation of principles supporting the kind of career I have built. There needs to be a total harmony of forces before a coach achieves what I’ve achieved. I haven't dedicated my life to accumulating statistics. Is that all you want to do? Is that what we really want carved on those monuments they will erect in our honor; a won and lost record? [Turns attention to bleachers.] Or do we want to be memorialized for converting what is essentially a frivolous pastime into a sublime exaltation of the human spirit?!
ASSISTANT COACH: I'm all for exalting the human spirit coach, and nothing would exalt my spirit more than winning this game!
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] Even at the cost of selling your soul? Would 10,000 victories justify such a Faustian fate?
ASSISTANT COACH: I am not selling my soul. I am not betting my entire life on the outcome of this game—or on my record as a head coach.
HEAD COACH: Ah, but I am. Coaching has been my whole life.
ASSISTANT COACH: Well, maybe that was a mistake.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] Maybe it was—
ASSISTANT COACH: Kirby has finished tying his laces! They are going to give him the ball! He is looking in our direction as if he senses there might be some question about his sinking that 2nd shot!
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] No. I don't think so. He is not looking at us. [Turns attention to bleachers.] He seems to be gazing at some point above and behind us. Maybe he is searching for someone he knows in the crowd. His sweetheart, or a member of his family—ah!
ASSISTANT COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] What is it? What do you see?
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] Nothing.
ASSISTANT COACH: Is it those 2 empty seats?
HEAD COACH: I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about.
ASSISTANT COACH: [Turns attention to court.] The seats your wife and that man were occupying.
HEAD COACH: I didn't notice Louise had left; but if she did it wouldn't be all that unusual. She habitually leaves in the final seconds of a half so as to avoid the crowds at the refreshment stands or in the restrooms. Her absence is certainly no cause for concern on my part! In fact, it only confirms my suspicion that this is indeed the end of the 1st and not the 2nd half of the final and not the semifinal game. Everything adds up: the low score; the behavior of our opponents; Louise's disappearance—and your growing lack of certitude.
ASSISTANT COACH: My growing lack of certitude?
HEAD COACH: That is how I perceive it.
ASSISTANT COACH: I don't know how you could perceive such a thing. There is nothing uncertain about my belief that these are not the final seconds of the 1st half of a final game, but the final seconds of the 2nd half of a semifinal game. I would like the record to reflect that.
HEAD COACH: What record? Are we keeping a record of this conversation?
ASSISTANT COACH: I wish somebody was!. When all of this is over it would help if we absolutely sure about who said what.
HEAD COACH: If we lose you think I might try to put the blame on you?
ASSISTANT COACH: It is a possibility.
HEAD COACH: I have lost games before and never needed a scapegoat.
ASSISTANT COACH: You have never lost a game like this one—and never because of such an obvious blunder.
HEAD COACH: Not telling a player to deliberately miss making a shot is not a blunder.
ASSISTANT COACH: Maybe yes and maybe no; but failing to call a timeout to at least discuss that option is.
HEAD COACH: Even if we have only 1 timeout left?
ASSISTANT COACH: We only need 1.
HEAD COACH: We might put that last timeout to better use after Kirby makes his 2nd freethrow.
ASSISTANT COACH: I don't understand that.
HEAD COACH: Let us assume Kirby makes the shot.
ASSISTANT COACH: Alright.
HEAD COACH: That brings us to within 1 point of tying the score with 2 seconds remaining on a stopped clock.
ASSISTANT COACH: Yes—
HEAD COACH: Meaning they must take the ball out of bounds in order to restart the clock.
ASSISTANT COACH: Yes—
HEAD COACH: What is your best guess on exactly how they will go about doing that? What would you do if you were standing in the shoes of their head coach?
ASSISTANT COACH: A length-of-the-court pass.
HEAD COACH: Why so?
ASSISTANT COACH: That way, even if the ball is turned over to us there won't be sufficient time to bring it down to the other end of the court for a final shot.
HEAD COACH: Unless, knowing they plan to make a length-of-the-court pass we intercept it at midcourt and then immediately call for the timeout we saved by not calling one before Kirby takes his 2nd freethrow and use it to plan our own out-of-bounds play for the 2 seconds still remaining on the clock.
ASSISTANT COACH: Unless some time leaks off the clock between the time our player intercepts their inbound pass and signals the referee for a timeout and the time the referee blows his whistle—not to mention the leakage occurring between the time the referee blows his whistle and the time it takes for the timekeeper to react before actually stopping the clock.
HEAD COACH: In which case, how much time are we talking about?
ASSISTANT COACH: At least 1 second. And, as I said before, we really do not know if we have a full 2 seconds on the clock to begin with.
HEAD COACH: As a calculated risk then, we can assume there will be at least 1 second left on the clock then—which should be sufficient to execute an inbounds play predicated on that very assumption.
ASSISTANT COACH: And a miracle. 3 or 4 miracles. Kirby has the ball in his hands!
HEAD COACH: There is still time for us to think this thing through calmly. Kirby hasn't yet begun to bounce the ball, much less caress it and rotate it or perform the rest of those prefreethrowing acts he has developed into a ritual.
ASSISTANT COACH: No matter how long he—
HEAD COACH: Just a minute! A question has just occurred to me! How many timesout do they have?
ASSISTANT COACH: None.
HEAD COACH: Are you sure about that?
ASSISTANT COACH: Don't you remember? They called their last one just before they made their go-ahead bucket.
HEAD COACH: Yes, yes—I remember silently congratulating my opposite number on a gamble that paid off so handsomely!
ASSISTANT COACH: Then at last we agree on something?
HEAD COACH: Oh yes, we agree on that alright! They are out of timeouts! And that means their inbound play will be made all the more difficult by reason of the fact they have no time in which to plan it! You can see already how that point guard of theirs is showing signs of panic. Even as we speak he is looking toward his bench trying to read some message in the eyes of his coach. Oh yes! He knows what perils lie ahead for him if Kirby should make his next shot! But his coach doesn’t seem to realize what it is that he is so concerned about. Their entire bench is concentrating on Kirby's freethrow; trying to calculate the effect of his making or not making it—much as we have been trying to do. They are wondering about those 2 seconds on the clock. Is it a full 2 seconds—or will the number 2 turn into the number 1 no sooner than the timekeeper resumes keeping time? I wouldn't be surprised if they too are speculating on the timekeeper's reflexes, the speed of electricity in a vacuum and the effect of a resistant medium thereon, etcetera, etcetera. But above all they must assume that: (1) Kirby will make his 2nd freethrow and; (2) that they must inbound the ball successfully in order to eliminate any possibility we might snatch victory from the jaws of what now appears to be our certain defeat. That sounds simple, but it can be the toughest thing in the world to do—and their coach knows it or he could not have come this far in the tournament. His problem, of course, is he has expended all of his timeouts and cannot call one now to discuss the situation with his players and devise an appropriate inbounding strategy. Moreover, should they encounter problems on the endline inbounding the ball they will not be able to exempt themselves from the 5 second rule by calling a timeout before the 4th second elapses. Have we ourselves not infrequently been forced to rely on that legal loophole? And, even if their pregame plan included the kind of length-of-the-court pass you prescribed for them, the longer the pass the more difficult it is to hit one's target. That is an inescapable law of physics! I will tell you what I think. If their designated inbounder is really smart he will opt for a short pass to one of his team mates making a move toward the paint under our own hoop. That would be the play we least expect them to execute. If we were to intercept the ball under our own basket it would be a certain 2 points for us and curtains for them. Yes. That is what he should do. But it would take an act of tremendous courage for a player to make an unorthodox decision like that without first obtaining the approval of his coach—which is what their floor general is trying to do now with his eyes, with the expression on his face, with every ounce of body language he can muster without actually running over to the bench for instructions—a thing he wants desperately to do—but realizes he cannot because Kirby might initiate his shot prematurely just to catch him out of position to rebound in the event he misses it. If we were to call a timeout right now we would only be doing him a favor, would we not?
ASSISTANT COACH: There comes a time when one must cease considering an infinite variety of possibilities and make a move!
HEAD COACH: Or not make a move!
ASSISTANT COACH: Kirby is bouncing the basketball!
HEAD COACH: There are still some factors we have not fully pondered—
ASSISTANT COACH: Not for me. I am drowning in factors, implications, circumstances, ramifications and contingencies.
HEAD COACH: You will have to learn to cope with such a multiplicity of factors if you want to be a successful coach.
ASSISTANT COACH: It's not my style. I go by what my gut tells me.
HEAD COACH: Winning is achieved from the neck up.
ASSISTANT COACH: There is dignity in defeat.
HEAD COACH: Not when you lose like that. Not when you’re guilty of sloppy thinking. Then you are just wasting your life away on a mere game—a game whose finer points you do not even understand.
ASSISTANT COACH: I make a distinction between the way I live my life and the way I coach basketball.
HEAD COACH: The way a man coaches is a reflection of the way he lives his life. [Turns attention to bleachers.] If my life has been nothing else it has been a testimonial to that truth—a truth which has nothing to do with winning and losing.
ASSISTANT COACH: It is how you play the game that matters!
HEAD COACH: The Jesuit priest who first taught me the game was convinced that losing was the very essence of basketball.
ASSISTANT COACH: That is carrying Christian doctrine just a bit too far, isn't it?
HEAD COACH: That first mentor of mine was a saint. But he was also one of the keenest intellects to ever contemplate this game we call basketball. It was from him I got idea that coaching could be more than just a vocation. Are you keeping track of how many times Kirby has dribbled that ball?
ASSISTANT COACH: 3.
HEAD COACH: I think it is time we began the final review of our options then.
ASSISTANT COACH: You're sure about that?
HEAD COACH: Unless you have something to add—something we might have overlooked?
ASSISTANT COACH: Negative!
HEAD COACH: Alright then. It seems to me that first of all we have to decide the threshold issue of which half we are in.
ASSISTANT COACH: Didn't we agree the only failsafe answer to that is the assumption these are the final 2 seconds of the 2nd half?
HEAD COACH: We’ve discussed it but I don't recall actually agreeing to any such analysis. On the contrary, the preponderance of evidence seems to lie on the other side of that proposition, to wit: the score is a 1st half score; the other bench does not seem sufficiently involved emotionwise to indicate that their victory could be only 2 seconds away; and my wife has vacated her seat—something she rarely, if ever, does during the climactic phase of a game—especially a game of this magnitude, unless she—[Turns attention to bleachers.]
ASSISTANT COACH: Unless she what?
HEAD COACH: [Rising.] She could be lying in the aisle with a heart attack!
ASSISTANT COACH: [Also rising, turning attention to bleachers.] Has she had a history of heart trouble?
HEAD COACH: Not that I am aware of.
ASSISTANT COACH: [Turns attention to court and reseats himself.] Whatever’s happened to your wife—if anything at all has happened to her—is beyond your control, which, when it comes to the outcome of this game is definitely not the case.
HEAD COACH: Are you still monitoring Kirby's ballbouncing?
ASSISTANT COACH: Yes.
HEAD COACH: What’s the count now?
ASSISTANT COACH: 4. There is still time.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] Still time! You’re learning!
ASSISTANT COACH: I will concede that you have introduced several points worthy of my further reflection.
HEAD COACH: And I will concede that you have brought some otherwise obscure items to my attention. Your observations concerning Louise. for instance, are not without merit. If she has run away there’s very little I can do about it—
ASSISTANT COACH: Run away? Did you say your wife might have run away?
HEAD COACH: I think Kirby could be getting very close to shooting.
ASSISTANT COACH: No. Not yet. After he finishes his bouncing routine he invariably pumps 3 times before releasing the ball on its basketward flight.
HEAD COACH: If we intercept their inbound pass we will need a timeout to formulate our own out-of-bounds play and a shot strategy, will we not?
ASSISTANT COACH: Or, if in attempting a length-of-the-court inbound pass they throw the ball out of bounds we would find ourselves in the same situation.
HEAD COACH: Then you are agreeing with me that we save what could be our last timeout and let the chips fall where they will vis a vis Kirby's upcoming freethrow?
ASSISTANT COACH: No, no, no! I was under the impression we were still hypothecating—
HEAD COACH: No, no, no! We are far beyond that now. There isn’t enough time to hypothecate!
ASSISTANT COACH: Suddenly there is not enough time?
HEAD COACH: We no longer enjoy the luxury of entertaining new options. We have reached the stage where our only option is to eliminate the options we have already enumerated.
ASSISTANT COACH: Does that mean we have eliminated the option of calling a timeout before Kirby shoots?
HEAD COACH: That goes without saying, doesn't it, in the light of what I just said about our needing at least 1 timeout in case we intercept their inbound pass?
ASSISTANT COACH: I was under the impression you were still talking hypothetically at that point in time.
HEAD COACH: There is not enough time left for hypothecating!
ASSISTANT COACH: If that's so, I don't understand what you want from me. It seems you've already made up your mind.
HEAD COACH: Maybe; but it doesn't necessarily follow that I am not open to criticism—although I do not see where you can find fault with my analysis.
ASSISTANT COACH: Allow me to enlighten you then! I think your analysis is based on the faulty notion that our opponent does not have an emergency out-of-bounds-play—or, if they do, they will somehow fail to execute it properly because of the "pressure" you seem to believe is choking them. I am suggesting that since they have gotten to the semifinals of this tournament it is not unreasonable to suppose they will not crack under the "pressure" of having us down by a deuce with only 2 seconds left to play.
HEAD COACH: How does your salvation scenario unfold then?
ASSISTANT COACH: 1st Kirby misses his 2nd shot. 2nd we get the rebound and put a shot up. The shot is missed. 1 second has elapsed from the clock. 3rd, we rebound the shot that is missed, shoot again and score, tying the game just as the final second disappears from the clock and sending us into overtime.
HEAD COACH: If we score on the rebound of Kirby's missed freethrow then, you don't think there would still be sufficient time remaining for them to come back and score on us?
ASSISTANT COACH: Even if there was an unexpired second on the clock what could they do with it? They would have the ball out of bounds under their own basket with only 1 second left to play!
HEAD COACH: That's true—but the clock doesn't start again until a player on the court touches the ball.
ASSISTANT COACH: Assuming there is a full second on the clock—and more probably it is only a fraction of a second—they would first have to complete a length-of-the-court pass, which borders on the miraculous, and then 2nd, get a successful shot off without any of the techniques normally needed to make a successful shot. In my opinion the odds of that happening are astronomical.
HEAD COACH: But it can be done?
ASSISTANT COACH: It would take a miracle—and there is no defense against miracles.
HEAD COACH: I'm not so sure about that. After all it does not require a miracle to throw a basketball 94 feet, does it?
ASSISTANT COACH: Just throwing it, no; but throwing it with the accuracy required in this kind of last second scenario certainly does.
HEAD COACH: Are you still keeping a count on Kirby's ballbouncing?
ASSISTANT COACH: Yes. 5.
HEAD COACH: Are you certain of that? I think you might have missed 1 when you turned to see what I was looking at in the bleachers.
ASSISTANT COACH: Does it really matter all that much how many times he bounces the ball?
HEAD COACH: Of course it does. We don't want to be taken by surprise, do we? After the 7th bounce we will have very little time left in which to make what you have been calling our "fatal" decision.
ASSISTANT COACH: How can you be sure Kirby always bounces the ball precisely 7 times before shooting his freethrows? Are you saying he actually stands there counting each bounce?
HEAD COACH: No. He doesn't have to. It is part and parcel of his style. Exactly 7 bounces and then he pumps 4 times before finally releasing the ball.
ASSISTANT COACH: You keep information like that in your head—how many times a player bounces the ball before he takes a freethrow?!
HEAD COACH: Such information can acquire profound importance in the analysis of freethrowing problems. Some players bounce their balls too many times and others do not bounce them enough. It's a coach's responsibility to monitor even the smallest details—especially the smallest details! If you asked him I doubt if Kirby would have any idea how many times he bounces the ball or pumps while standing on the freethrow line. He is functioning in a mode now that is sublimely unconscious of that kind of statistical data. Nevertheless, there is a reason for everything he does while standing on that line. 7 bounces and 4 pumps. Those numbers are not accidental or capricious —they are part of the metaphysical equation that results in his phenomenal freethrowing percentage.
ASSISTANT COACH: We are talking metaphysics now?
HEAD COACH: In what other terms can we discuss the quintessential phenomenology of basketball? How else can one explain the spiritual parameters within which a young man like Kirby is now operating? The solitary shooter braced against the invisible but rock hard facts of a reality that tells him the game he is playing was designed in a way which makes perfection all but unattainable. Since basketball began no player, coach or team has ever achieved 100% in any statistical category—and that is especially true when it comes to freethrowing, which is rather surprising when you think about it because it is the single situation in any team sport where one is given the unmolested opportunity of scoring a point. The mathematics are immutable, are they not? The physics are constant—velocity, trajectory, etc. The target is stationary and undefended! So it is that the failed freethrow can only be explained in the most agonizingly personal terms. Missing a freethrow is nothing less than a disgrace.
ASSISTANT COACH: Kirby can cope with that. After all he is shooting over 95% on a career basis.
HEAD COACH: Shooting 95% isn't the same as shooting 100%.
ASSISTANT COACH: For our sake I am hoping for one of his rare misses—in the event we don't call a timeout and make that eventuality into a sure thing.
HEAD COACH: A pure shooter like Kirby exists for only one reason—to put a basketball through a hoop. That is all he knows, all he wants, all he understands. Tampering with such a delicate psychological mechanism could be catastrophic. The question I want to hear you answer is this—can we run the risk of ruining what promises to be Kirby's brilliant postcollegiate career?
ASSISTANT COACH: That was the 7th bounce!
HEAD COACH: Do you understand what I am saying?
ASSISTANT COACH: No!
HEAD COACH: If it comes down to a choice between trashing Kirby's future as one of the game's purest shooters, I would choose to lose here and now. In the final analysis one must yield to one's philanthropic principles.
ASSISTANT COACH: Except when it comes to one's wife.
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to bleachers.] What about my wife?
ASSISTANT COACH: Her seat is still empty, isn't it?
HEAD COACH: [Turns attention to court.] I explained all about that—
ASSISTANT COACH: I thought you were a little vague concerning the man who was sitting next to her.
HEAD COACH: Kirby is beginning to pump. [Looking up.] Do you see what I see?
ASSISTANT COACH: Where?
HEAD COACH: Up there—on the scoreboard. Under "Timeouts" for "home team" there is a "2." We have been designated as the home team, have we not?
ASSISTANT COACH: I'll be damned! That information is usually not indicated on a collegiate scoreboard—
HEAD COACH: The reason being that on a collegiate scoreboard that space indicates the half!
ASSISTANT COACH: No it doesn't! There are no scoreboards indicating what half is being played!
HEAD COACH: How can you be so dogmatic on that point?
ASSISTANT COACH: Because there is no room on a scoreboard for such useless information. Scoreboard space is always at a premium.
HEAD COACH: In the old days the only information displayed on a scoreboard was the score!
ASSISTANT COACH: I see what they've done. They have eliminated the display of team fouls in order to display the number of timeouts left—
HEAD COACH: They are not displaying the number of team fouls?
ASSISTANT COACH: Apparently not.
HEAD COACH: How many team fouls have we got?
ASSISTANT COACH: That is not something we need to know at this juncture, is it?
HEAD COACH: Even if we are over the limit?
ASSISTANT COACH: It is irrelevant.
HEAD COACH: What about them?
ASSISTANT COACH: The same argument applies. This late in the game it is safe to assume both teams have exceeded their limit of personal fouls.
HEAD COACH: Or this late in the 1st half of a game?
ASSISTANT COACH: Either way the team foul number is of no consequence.
HEAD COACH: But you cannot say you are certain about the number of team fouls.
ASSISTANT COACH: No.
HEAD COACH: And yet that information could prove to be the most crucial of all the information we have been scrutinizing so assiduously!
ASSISTANT COACH: I think I see what you are driving at, coach. If they are not yet in a bonus situation they could afford to give away a foul and eat some of that precious time off the clock in the event Kirby misses his 2nd freethrow and we do manage to get the rebound. Is that what you are thinking
HEAD COACH: Yes! That is exactly what I am thinking!
ASSISTANT COACH: There is a silver lining in this scoreboard business though—
HEAD COACH: There is?
ASSISTANT COACH: We now know for certain that we have a couple of timeouts in hand!
HEAD COACH: Then perhaps we should call for one after all.
ASSISTANT COACH: That would give us sufficient time to find out which half we are playing, the number of fouls each team has committed, and what has become of your wife and the man she was seated with!
HEAD COACH: Let us leave my wife out of this. I told you I never concern myself with personal affairs during a game.
ASSISTANT COACH: I've never heard you say any such thing. That subject has never come up between us. All I know is that throughout this game your attention has been diverted repeatedly to the seats in which your wife and that mysterious man named Damien were sitting.
HEAD COACH: I never mentioned his name! Of that I am absolutely certain! Which means your knowledge of his name must have been acquired independently—and that would be a very disturbing invasion of my privacy!
ASSISTANT COACH: We can talk about all of this during the timeout.
HEAD COACH: Haven't you signaled for that yet!
ASSISTANT COACH: I wanted to make sure—
HEAD COACH: I told you to call it!
ASSISTANT COACH: You said "perhaps"—"Perhaps we should call a timeout." That is a direct quote, coach.
HEAD COACH: Why would I be so equivocal?
ASSISTANT COACH: Because of the icing factor? You were concerned about disrupting the rhythm of Kirby's prefreethrowing ritual? Or maybe you don't want to face the facts concerning your wife's disappearance—
HEAD COACH: [Rising, turning attention to bleachers.] Alright, damn you—call it! Call it!
ASSISTANT COACH: [Rising from chair, making ‘T’ sign with hands to invisible official on court.] TIME! TIME! TIME!
BLACKOUT.
End Part One