This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual activities between males. If you are not of legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by homosexuality and/or homosexual themes, leave this site now.

The author retains all rights to this story. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the permission of the author.

Note: I owe a special thanks to Robb for doing the final proofreading and catching all those silly little errors that I missed.

LOVE ON THE COURT

CHAPTER 12

WITT’S PERSPECTIVE:

The whole next year seemed to pass by us at light speed. Antwon and Jean-Marc became even closer friends with Joe and me. We worked out together; we played together; and we usually spent at least one night of the weekend together at either their place or ours.

In the fall there was no doubt in our minds that the team was going to go all the way to the championships that year. I think Coach Melton felt it, and so did most of the other guys on the team. We had a couple of real outstanding freshmen on the team and a new assistant coach, Aaron Cole, who had been a star defensive player at my sister’s alma mater before spending two years as an assistant coach at a small college upstate.

Reggie hung out at our place whenever he could especially when Jean-Marc and Antwon were over although he was always careful not to overstay his welcome so we didn’t mind. We never said anything to him about being gay, but I think Reggie had Joe and me figured out. His basketball skills developed rapidly. He became a real challenge to the four of us in our driveway games. I felt certain he would be the dominant player on his high school team that season and be offered a basketball scholarship someplace although he told us repeatedly that he was hoping for an offer from Alberts College.

Father Mac took over as the parish priest at St. Elizabeth’s in the fall. It turned out that dried up, sour old Father Maggiotti wasn’t really having health problems. He had been accused of being too friendly with several of the altar boys and was placed on leave by the Bishop. Joe and I had some intense discussions about the way the Catholic Church was handling the growing public awareness of the problem of pastoral abuse. Joe still respected, even venerated, priests and nuns despite what I considered Fr. Maggiotti’s hypocrisy. The man had never missed a chance to denounce the evils of the flesh from his pulpit while he was abusing the altar boys. I guess the respect and deference to priests was something his family and religious training had drummed into him. Not being Catholic, I didn’t have the same perspective on the clergy. In the end though I began to regularly attend Mass with Joe. I liked the ritual and formality of the Catholic service, and Father Mac’s homilies were well done and made me think about what it meant to try to live a Christian life.

Joe’s old Plymouth Horizon died that fall. The darn thing was almost as old as Joe with nearly 200,000 miles on it! He went out to make a run to the store one Saturday morning. The car coughed a couple of times, belched a big cloud of black smoke, and then peed a puddle of oil onto the driveway. That was all she wrote.

Joe wanted to find another old Horizon, but I insisted he look for something a little newer with airbags. Eventually he found a one owner ‘94 Toyota Camry for the right price and got it.

Jean-Marc went home for the Canadian Thanksgiving holiday which happens in mid October instead of in late November like it does in the U.S. The first night there he told his folks he was gay and that Antwon was his partner. As Jean-Marc told us later, the whole scene was pretty much a non-event. His folks told him they had suspected he was gay for a long time and they had suspected that he and Antwon were romantically involved when they had visited in the summer. Jean-Marc’s father announced the news at the family Thanksgiving dinner and told all of the brothers and sisters that they would show no disrespect to either Jean-Marc or to Antwon, who he called “my son with the dark sun tan.”

Our season was a complete success! We walked away with the league seasonal championship, the tournament championship and made it through the first two rounds of the NCAA tournament. Not bad for a little place like Alberts College. Aaron Cole was a tremendous addition to the coaching staff, and our defense, which was darn good before, really improved under his guidance. He was only four years older than Joe and I, but he seemed a lot more mature than his chronological age. Everyone on the team liked and respected him.

As predicted, Reggie was the star of his team that year and led John F. Kennedy High School to the state championship. He had several scholarship offers to choose from, including one from Alberts which he accepted the same day he received it.

That summer The Four Horsemen (that’s what the local press had started calling Antwon, Jean-Marc, Joe, and me) all worked at Coach Melton’s basketball camp again. As we had the previous summer, we spent a lot of time in the evening practicing. Our goal was to be league champions for the second year in a row and to get at least one round farther in the NCAA tournament. I thought the team had a darn good chance. It would be Joe’s and my last chance. It was our senior year.

**********

One week before our first game of the 2001-2002 season that fall I hurried into the locker room. My class had run late. The rest of the team was already out on the gym floor warming up before practice. I had just pulled off my shirt when Coach Melton stuck his head into the locker area.

“Sadler, I need to see you before practice.”

His tone wasn’t friendly. I figured I was going to get my ass chewed out for being almost late to practice. “As soon as I get dressed coach. I know I’m late. My class ran over again.”

“I said before practice. I mean now!” He turned and walked toward his office.

I hung my shirt up in the locker and headed down to coach’s office wondering why he was so pissed with my being late.

I entered the office. Coach was sitting behind his desk scowling.

“Sit down, Sadler.”

I sat. “Coach, I’m real sorry for being late. My philosophy prof just doesn’t let us out on time.”

“This isn’t about being late.”

“It isn’t?”

“No. This is about having a faggot playing on my team.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “I beg your pardon...”

“You heard me. Are you a homosexual?”

“Coach, what brought this on?” I was fighting for control of my voice. I was losing the battle.

“I got a phone call today from a sports writer at the city paper. He told me that he knew for a fact that you’re a queer. He said the story would be out in the paper the day of our first game if you were still on the team. He said he was giving me a chance to ‘clean up’ the team. Now, I’m asking you again, are you queer?”

I swallowed hard before answering. “Yes, I’m gay.”

Coach hung his head. “Jesus, what about Ronkowski? You two are best buddies. You live with him.”

“Joe has nothing to do with this. Leave him out of it.”

“You’re saying Ronkowski’s okay?”

I didn’t answer.

We starred at one another for several seconds. Then coach said, “I want you to leave the team, Witt. I’m sorry. You’re one of the team leaders, but if the other guys find out you’re queer it’ll cause problems on the team. It’s better to lose you now when we have a chance of recovering than to have a big stink about it in mid season.”

“Coach, I really don’t think the fact that I’m gay is going to change the way I work with the team.”

“Sadler, what planet did you come from? Do you even think the other guys will want you changing in the same locker room with them if they find out?”

“I’m willing to take that chance.”

“Well, I’m not. Go clean out your locker. I want you out of here by the time practice is over. Understood?”

“Perfectly.” I stood, wheeled around, and stalked out of coach’s office slamming the door behind me.

########################################

JOE’S PERSPECTIVE:

I wasn’t too worried when Witt wasn’t on the court at the start of practice. He had a late afternoon philosophy class, and the professor often ran the class late. However, when he still wasn’t out on the court after about twenty minutes I started to get worried that something had happened to him.

I asked Coach Cole if he knew anything about Witt. He said he didn’t but he’d find out when he could.

A few minutes later, we were doing lay up drills, and I saw Coach Cole talking with Coach Melton. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I could tell that the conversation was growing increasingly heated. Suddenly Coach Cole leaned forward and poked his finger in Coach Melton’s face, said a few more words, and then turned heel and stormed off the court into the locker room.

After that, Coach Melton just wasn’t tuned in to the practice, and neither was I. Coach finally turned the practice over to the other assistant coaches and retired to the locker room.

The other coaches kept the practice going but called a halt about half an hour early telling us to shower and be in the team room in fifteen minutes for a team meeting.

I was pretty worried by the time we all assembled in the team room. I still hadn’t seen Witt. Jean-Marc, Antwon, Reggie, and a couple of the other guys had asked me where Witt was. I had to tell them I didn’t know.

Coach Melton came into the room, and we all fell silent.

“Men, I have some disturbing news, but first I want all of you to remain focused on the championship this year. We’re a team. We work together, and together we’re bigger and better than any one member of the team.

“Witt Sadler and Coach Cole have decided to leave the team for personal reasons.”

It was pandemonium in the team room. The news stunned all of us, even the other coaches. Cries of, “What?” and “Why” and “No way” echoed through out the room. I couldn’t imagine Witt leaving the team. He hadn’t said anything to me about it, and after being best friends for three and a half years, roommates for two years, and lovers for a year and a half we didn’t have any secrets from one another.

Coach Melton raised his hand to quiet us down. “Men, all I can say is that I truly regret the loss of Sadler and Coach Cole to the team. However, what I said before still goes. We are a team, and a team is bigger and better than any one individual or two individuals. We have to make adjustments, pull together as a team, and play as a team. Our first game is less than a week away. Go get some dinner, hit the books, and then tomorrow come back here ready to play basketball.”

Coach walked out of the room. I turned to Jean-Marc and Antwon who had been sitting next to me. “Guys, can you give me a ride home? I rode in with Witt today, and if he’s gone I don’t have any other way to get home.”

“Come on. We’re on our way. Do you have any idea what this is about?” Antwon was halfway out of the room by the time he finished the sentence.

Jean-Marc and I had to run to catch up with Antwon’s long strides.

**********

Witt’s car was in the driveway when Antwon pulled in. I was out of the car and on my way to the door before Antwon brought his car to a complete stop.

I raced into the house. “Witt? Witt baby, are you here?”

He was sitting in the living room in the dark. I turned on one of the lights. He looked awful. Like he’d been crying.

I got down on my knees in front of him and grabbed his hands. “Witt, tell me what’s going on. Coach said you’d quit the team. Why?”

Antwon and Jean-Marc followed me into the living room and quietly sat on the couch.

Witt looked up at us. “I didn’t quit. Coach asked me to leave the team.”

“Why? What happened?”

He took a deep breath before launching into the story of his confrontation with Coach Melton that afternoon. Jean-Marc, Antwon, and I listened in stunned silence.

When Witt was done, Jean-Marc broke the silence. “That’s bullshit, man. The whole starting lineup is gay. If he doesn’t want gays on his team, then he won’t have a team.”

Witt shook his head, “Don’t you do what I think you’re planning, Jean-Marc. Coach got a tip from a sports writer about me. He didn’t say anything about you two guys although he did ask about Joe because we live together. I just didn’t answer him. I don’t think he knows about the rest of you, or else he just doesn’t want to know. It’s better that I’m off the team. You guys can still win the championship.”

I took his hands and brought them to my lips. “Babe, the championship won’t mean any thing to me if you’re not on the team.”

He started to tear up. “Thanks, but I can’t ruin the chances for everyone else by staying on the team. Coach doesn’t think the other guys will even want me in the locker room let alone on the court if they find out I’m gay.”

“Pardon me, bro, but I think that’s just more bullshit!” Antwon stood from the couch and started pacing the room. “You and Joe are the team leaders, man. You’re the leaders ‘cause you two are the best damn ball players out there. You’re the heart of the team. I don’t think it’s going to make a difference to any of the guys that you’re gay.”

Witt shook his head again. “Listen to yourself, Antwon. If I’m still on the team, then people are going to start wondering about Joe because we’ve been living together. Then they’re going to start wondering about you two because you guys are friends with Joe and me. Think about it. You’ll all be ‘outed’.”

Antwon came closer to us. “Witt, do you really think that matters to me? To us? My family knows I’m gay. Jean-Marc’s family knows he’s gay. Your family knows you’re gay, and they know you and Joe are partners. Do we really care what other people think. The most important people in our lives already know, and they don’t care! I’m going to talk with Coach tomorrow, and tell him.”

“Antwon, please don’t do that,” Witt pleaded. “If Coach kicked you off the team, you’d lose your scholarship.”

“Then I’ll transfer. Unless Ole Frenchy over there wants to stay here. If that’s the case I’ll work and go to school part time.”

Jean-Marc walked over to Antwon and hugged his shoulders. “I’ll be right in there with you tomorrow when you tell the coach. If we have to go somewhere else, we go as a couple. I’m not letting you out of my clutches. Who else could I find who’d try to talk dirty to me in bad French.”

The phone rang.

I motioned with my head, and Jean-Marc picked up the phone.

“Hello.”

Pause

“This is Jean-Marc LaPont. Who’s calling?”

Pause

“Oh, hi, Rhonda. Yes, Witt’s here. Just a minute.”

He held the phone out to Witt who got up from the chair and walked over to the answer the phone.

“Hi, Sis. What’s up?

Pause

“Say that again.”

Pause

“Okay, thanks of the warning. I want you to come over here. I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but I’d feel better if you were over here instead of alone in your apartment.”

Pause

“Okay. Bye. Love you too.”

I went over to stand by my lover. “What’s wrong?”

“Sis said she just got a call from Jeremy Small.”

“Can’t the guy get it through his thick head that she broke it off with him a year ago?”

“Apparently he’s been calling and trying to get back together. The last time he called she told him just how long it would be before they ever got back together and just where he could go to wait for that to happen. Rhonda said Jeremy got really angry and said she’d ‘be sorry’ for breaking up with him. He called her just a little while ago. She said he sounded drunk. He told her that ‘the payback has begun’ and that she and her ‘faggot brother’ should watch the ten o’clock news on channel three. I told her to come over here. If the guy’s drunk and pissed, I don’t want her in her apartment alone. I don’t know what he’s planning or what he’s capable of doing.”

“Good thinking.”

Witt suddenly smiled. “Okay, guys, Rhonda is coming over. I’ll have to tell her about being kicked off the team, and there is no way I can do that on an empty stomach. One of you assholes get on the phone and get some pizza delivered over here pronto.”

(To be continued)