It's official: the basketball season, and my return to coaching, is over.

I can't honestly say if I will return.

Monday a girl of mine was leveled inadvertently by an opposing player. She was slow to get up, and as play was stopped I quickly made my way to the court to ensure she was okay - until I was promptly met by an official (who likely holds a day job at a Jiffy Lube) who told me to return immediately to the bench.

"I'll give her time she needs," he said.

Nope. Sorry, that didn't sit well with me. (But I'm a hot tempered guy, so I followed my inner Zen and said nothing). Fact was, she's my kid and her safety is a primary concern. I may of said nothing at the time - but I didn't forget.

After the first half we trailed by 7 - which was a mild success considering I was playing with four girls the entire game.

Late in the third quarter - still down by only 7 - my point guard got a nice two handed push from behind. She stutter stepped while holding the ball and was whistled for a traveling violation. I politely called the official over, proceeded to push a chair to the floor, and kindly asked if the chair just committed a traveling violation as well. I got a technical for my demonstration, and nonchalantly tossed my water bottle to the side of my bench.

There was 3:08 left in the third quarter. And I got ejected, still down by 7. We ended up losing by almost 30.

I served my suspension Wednesday (we lost by 25) and I returned to the court this evening. The last game of the season.

It's B-girls basketball, and we ended up missing somewhere between 10-15 easy layups, no joke, that rimmed in and out (and ultimately cost us the game). A parent, who earlier in the season I removed from my bench for interfering with my style of coaching, remained ever-so vocal in the audience criticizing every action, shot, play, or movement of anyone who wasn't his daughter. He continued to vehemently yell at my shooting guard that she was the reason we were behind.

"Stop being selfish, make the pass, you're the reason we're behind! Come on get it together!" (At the time, she was the reason we scored all of our points.)

I promptly turned to him and informed him that she's shooting because I'm telling her too. She's got tremendous range, and is capable of hitting a three on any given shot. Tonight she was struggling - as shooters sometimes will. And our deficit began to grow from her rimmed misses and our inability to get a board.

Booster Dad (his ass is being kissed because he has money - which I guess is why I wasn't coaching these last two years because I kiss no ass, and if you mess with one of my girls, I don't care who you are you're gone; I have no problem blasting a parent out of my program. Especially from a a guy whose 1) wife calls one of my girls a bitch and 2) has my 14-year old shooter in tears on the bench.

I turn to Booster Big Shot Dad and remind him they're kids. They're just kids. And it'd be a good idea if he shuts his mouth.

After two girls fouling out, and finishing the game with only four girls (nothing new here) we lose the game. As I'm taking the girls to the locker room for my last talk with them, I turn to Booster Dad once more and simply say, "They're learning the game. They're kids. Try being supportive."

"Sure coach, why don't you go push a chair down and throw another water bottle. I paid to be here I can say what I want," he responds.

I refrain from putting his head through the wall. I value my three kids and wife and my career. But it takes tremendous effort for me to walk away.

The confrontation was loud - my voice carries. And, I assume, it is heard by many people. The pushed chair, the thrown bottle, the lame ejection, was in defense of my girls. For him to use that against me is senseless. I decide then he isn't worth any effort.

I walk away and take my team into the storage room (With the exception of Booster Dad's daughter, who didn't show up). They all remind me that they have my back.

"Coach, did you hear what we said to that jerk?" asks one player.

"Coach, we got your back, always," says another.

In the storage room it hits me: I may not be coaching again anytime soon. I'm reminded of the success, and the great times I had in my years coaching cross country. And thoughts of the Athletic Director and the Athletics Principal two years ago telling me it's time for a change "Despite none of my athletes thinking it was" comes flooding back to me.

This year I tried to play nice, but didn't necessarily follow the Varsity coach's philosophy - "his program" which saw four unpolished freshman prematurely pushed to the Varsity level at the beginning of the season, which left me with a skeleton team.

I ran no offensive sets (they're a waste of time, usually break down, and require too much thinking, and not enough reacting); we got out on breaks and pushed the ball; we played lock down defense which predicated our offense; we worked inside out; and I always, always, gave my shooter the green light if she had a wink of space to shoot it, despite the dismay of Booster Dad (except, of course, when she was draining them.)

We played. We won three games, to 10 losses - but I never made it to a single practice once the season started because of Kristie's work schedule. In other words, we improvised on game days. And they made massive strides as the year progressed with me earning their trust and adjusting on the fly.

I didn't want to let my friend down, who supported my return to coaching. I didn't want to let Clark down, who gave me a chance to return to the bench again. So, for the entire season, I played it cool and did what I could without causing waves.

But the season is over. And while I am not the greatest X's and O's coach - I understand kids. Especially girls. You win their heart first, and they'll dive for every loose ball; they'll run back on defense if their life depended on it; they'll beat themselves up if they feel like they let me down. That's what I can do. And that's what I did. And in that storage room tonight I thanked them profusely for allowing me to be their coach. Their were some tears spilled (although I think I had dust in my eyes).

In one short season those girls became a part of my family. I love them like they're my little sisters. And I don't think you can find a former athlete of mine who disagrees with my connection to my former athletes.

So, sorry Admin, I'm not kissing a booster Dad's ass. I coach for the kids. In an unkind world I dump everything I have to make sure my athletes always have someone to go to. (Again, part of the reason why I walked away two years ago was because I dumped so much energy and emotion into two sick athletes of mine.)

Coaching has been my saving grace. And as much as I had documented my mistake initially walking away - one of my only regrets - all I can say is shame on the powers that be who kept me out as long as they did.

I made the mistake of leaving prematurely. They made the mistake of not taking me back sooner.

And to my skeleton crew of girls I coached this year: Thank you. I can't say enough how proud I am of you. You will forever have a place in my heart.

I vowed to myself I wouldn't touch this blog until after the season was over. But going two months without - well - expressing myself in writing is far too long. The best place to begin is in a nice, tidy recap:

The first four games
I'm the new kid on the block, feeling out my players, determining where I'm going to slot them in the line-up. Deciding on rotations. And then, come game time, three other coaches are on the bench with me running my team. I become a disgruntled spectator. In that span we go 0-4. In one game we score two points in a half under the vocal, short-leashed guidance of the Varsity, Assistant Varsity, and Junior Varsity coaches. The three coaches leave at half and I, finally, have the girls to myself. We rally and score 16 points to close out the game.

The games that never happened
At this point I have six girls. So, one girl coming off the bench. Two become ineligible and we end up forfeiting two games.

The mysterious Intervention
Curiously after the previous game (where my girls rattled off 16 points and played loose and had fun) I find myself coaching the girls on my own... until...

Booster Dad comes to the rescue
The father of one of my athletes slowly replaces the departed coaches, and takes my side on the bench for a couple games (we go 1-1 in that span). One of my girls defiantly tells the over-excited father "you're not our coach, you need to go sit down in the stands." I question her tact, but she's 15 - and I do appreciate her fire and commitment to me. She doesn't feel alone, and after a blowout game, in which we lose, I permanently remove him from the bench. Unlike a 15-year old girl, I am tactful in doing so.

Head Coach has little faith in my loose playing, overly aggressive, fast break mentality offense
And he tells my girls this. It's his "program" (which truthfully I respect) and he wants them to run his slow developing, snail paced half court offensive sets. I remind him that, having not been to many practices because of scheduling conflicts, I intend on utilizing my personnel the best way I see fit. He politely informs me that "when we're getting blown out in the second half" he is going to take over. The game is never in question - we play unselfish and aggressive where much of our offense is predicated on takeaways, fast breaks, and an inside out game with the one BIG and one shooter I have.

Booster Dad and Booster daughter are out sick. This is my first official game alone on the bench.

We win my 13.

Alone at Last
In what has become my first official game coaching alone, we lose by 26. (20-5 after the first quarter.) The team is ranked top three in the City; one girl gives up at the half (score 30-9) and I bench her. We end up finishing the game with four girls since I refuse to let the quitter back in.

The Rebound Game, and our third win in five games
Coaches use white boards to demonstrate their brilliant X's and O's strategies. Instead, before the game I write to the remaining five girls I have (the bad attitude I don't suit up, and another girl remains ineligible for the rest of the season leaving me with the minimum of five for the rest of the season).

I notice the opposing coach scribbling furiously on her board and waving her hands in, what seems to be, an elaborate attempt to explain a play. In response I wave my hands in circles too, draw intricate shapes with my finger while in the huddle, and forcefully push the air with the palms of my hand to demonstrate a make-believe coaching play. Before our huddle breaks I call out a play to run on the offense: Bingo Bingo Alpha Baseline!

They laugh - as there is no such play. Yet they vehemently call it, "Bingo, Bingo Alpha Baseline!" my point guard yells. The opposing team looks concerned. We score easily on an improvised unselfish play that has absolutely nothing to do with a baseline.

We win by 18.

Three games left. With girls, like my wife said so many times to me, you win their hearts first. Do that, and you win games.

Lately, it seems to be working.

I've been gone for awhile. There's a few reasons for this:

1) I've been busy. You know, making sure my dog doesn't die; packing my classroom for the move to Portable City during construction; playing Skyrim; and coaching.

Yes,

2) I am coaching again. With me back in action you'd think I'd have a lot to say. After all, coaching was one of three reasons this often neglected blog was created.

But,

3) I've been hesitant to write anything about it. The basketball team. My team in particular (which on most practices doesn't constitute a team since usually four show up). The other coaches. I don't want to say anything about them.

I've been given a second chance. One, at this school, I didn't think I'd get. (And, if you've followed me long enough you'd know I shouldn't have been out of coaching this long.) But, here I am, working with a Rag Tag group that, after only a handful of practices - and even less time working with them alone - have gravitated towards me.

And I to them.

Yet this isn't my cross country team where, over six years, we (maybe) lost two or three dual meets within the Division. This isn't my cross country team where I had State Qualifiers every year, or a team with a chance to go to State on a consistent basis. This isn't my cross country team that sleep walked to a conference title year in and year out. Even the years I wasn't coaching they breezed to conference titles (oh, stop it, those were still my girls.)

I'm treading in uncharted territory where I have a loose understanding for the game of basketball. But I know kids.

And this isn't a cross country team where all practices were predicated by me. All workouts where developed by me. Tapering programs by me. Speed work, tempos, team meetings, me, me, me.

Now I'm just that one guy who's coaching a B-team that, on some days, may not even have a full team. I'm a fixture in the background. Watching. And learning.

And you know what? I'm okay with that.

Starting over isn't easy, though. My reputation - where I had kids simply joining cross country from all walks of school without my having to recruit - is long gone. Only three girls remain who knew me as "Coach Billings". Two play soccer, and one remains my most quiet advocate as a four year Varsity player on basketball.

Tomorrow is my first game. I didn't have an entire summer with this team. Alone, I've had them for maybe an hour total.

If I lose, I can stomach it. At least I know I will have lost with kids who aren't coming to the school for "Academic Reasons" only - they're just kids who are here wanting to play and have fun.

Fun I can do. And in time, win.