Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the basketball court. Coach Miller stood, hands clasped behind his back, watching the tryouts. He’d seen a lot of talent, a good mix of veterans and fresh faces. He'd put in the work, identified the needs of his team, and had a clear vision. He was ready to build something special this year. The crisp air held a hint of autumn, mirroring the sharpness in his decision.

He called for everyone to gather near the bleachers. The players' energy buzzed like static electricity. Miller cleared his throat, the sound unusually loud in the sudden hush. “Alright, listen up,” he started, his voice firm but not unkind. He looked at each of them, a slow, deliberate sweep of his gaze.

He called out a name. The kid’s face fell, but he nodded, accepting the news. Miller continued, listing off several more names. Each cut was delivered with clear, concise reasoning, delivered straight to the player's face. After a while, he had a team. He felt a profound sense of satisfaction as they all turned to go, the ones remaining looking back at him. It was finally a team.