The Desires of the Heart: Making of Miller Romance, #1

By Steve Biddison

Lacey Littleton swore she'd never go back to Miller, TX. Yet guilt after her father's death forces her to put her career on hold to work in the small town newspaper. It just isn't fair. And then to make matters worse, she has to take over the sports beat even though she has always hated high school sports.

Eric Rightman hopes the memories of a personal tragedy might finally fade with his new job as the head basketball coach at Miller High School. But inheriting a losing basketball program causes him to instill a new philosophy in the team that reaches far beyond their play on the court as well as stirs up a possible romance with the town’s sports reporter.

Will the pain and guilt Lacey feels over her dark past keep her from falling in love with Eric? Will he let go of his own pain to risk falling in love again?

Desires of the Heart is a story of love and forgiveness. It demonstrates how God uses our past failures to teach us that His love transcends a painful past not only to forgive, but to restore lives to a new hope and joy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sword and Shield Publishing
• Release date: Jul 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781484162262

Book preview

Chapter 1

He gently applied his brakes as he watched the city limit sign pass from the front of his view into his rearview mirror.  The population read 2532.  The perfect size town in the middle of Nowhere, Texas to settle in unnoticed from those who lurk around the large metropolises placed around the country.  He really didn’t know why he had chosen Texas as his state of choice to go into relative hiding five years ago.  Perhaps it was the stereotype of the open spaces and ranch-type communities he had seen in old movies.  But in these past five years, he had discovered that Texas was anything but that.  Sure parts of Texas were as flat as a body of water and there were ranches scattered around the state.  But according to his research, they weren’t as prevalent as he had been led to believe.  However, this town might be an exception.  He was entering into an area that was largely populated by ranches.  Well, ranches and oil fields.  This is a little more like the stereotype of Texas, he thought as he found the street he was supposed to turn on.  I wonder if the people here always wear boots, cowboy hats, and speak with a drawl.  He couldn’t help the smile that escaped from his lips at the thought of being surrounded by old fashioned cowboys.

Less than half a mile off the main strip that ran through the small town, he spotted the school that was his destination.  He turned his hunter green Ford Focus into the parking lot that sat between the junior high and the gymnasium.  Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his notebook and opened the car door.  Maybe if things worked out here and he felt safe, he would be comfortable driving a flashy car.  But for the moment, all he wanted to was secure the job he was about to interview for.

His instructions were to look for the blue door on the building that lay on the backside of the parking lot.  He rapped his knuckles against the door and waited.  After a few seconds, the door opened, May I help you?

I am here to see Coach Lawrence, he answered.  I have an appointment with him at 2:00.

He is in his office, the other man responded.  He reached out to shake hands, I am Coach Spencer.

I am Eric Rightman, he spoke as he gripped Coach Spencer’s hand in a firm handshake.

I’ll take you to his office, Matt Spencer motioned as he took a step out the door, pointing around the corner.  He has moved his office to the next building so he could be right next to the dressing room.

Eric Rightman nodded as he stepped aside to allow the other man to lead the way.  These are old buildings, he noted to himself as he examined the faded brick on the buildings and the peeling paint on the support poles that held up an awning.  But there is a certain charm to these old schools, he smiled.  They are all steeped in tradition.

Moments later, they were stepping into the sweat drenched smell of a high school boys locker room.  Even though football practice had not yet started, the room oozed the odor of many generations of football players that had at one time called this room their home.  Inwardly, Eric smiled at the recollection of some of the old locker rooms he had been in when he was in high school.  Had it really been a decade since he had been in high school, dabbling some in sports like football and track, but focusing his main attention on the game of basketball?  In some ways it seemed like only yesterday that he had played in his last high school game, one his team lost in the third round of the state playoffs.  But that had been a lifetime ago in another part of the country.

Coach, Matt Spencer spoke as he poked his head through the semi open doorway of a small office that had the words, Coach Lawerence, Athletic Director written on its door plaque.  Eric Rightman is here to see you.

Craig Lawrence, the athletic director and head football coach of the Miller Mustangs, paused the game film he had been studying and half rose from his seated position.  Coach Rightman, come in, he offered his best smile as he extended his hand for the obligatory handshake.  How was your trip?  Did you have any trouble finding us?

Eric met the football coach’s hand and matched his smile.  It was a nice trip, he answered the formalities.  And I didn’t have any problems finding the place.

You will find that it is easy to find things in these small Texas towns, Coach Lawrence laughed.  Once you get into town, it’s next to impossible to get lost.

Yes sir, Eric replied.  It is a bit different than the Dallas metroplex, but it seems like the kind of place I would love to make my home.

We sure like it here, Coach Lawrence smiled.  The people here are incredible.  They are very friendly and they sure support their high school sports programs.

That’s kind of what I am looking for, Eric smiled back.

I know we have spoken at great length on the telephone, Lawrence stated.  But let’s go ahead and make this official and go through some interview questions.

Sounds good to me, Eric beamed on the outside while his insides turned in circles. 

Tell me something about yourself that I can’t see on your resume, Lawrence began.

Eric always hated this question and never really understood why the majority of the times he had been interviewed for a head basketball position, this broad, open-ended question was the first question asked.  Even though he had his answer rehearsed to the point that he knew exactly what to say, as he opened his mouth to answer, the fear that he might say something wrong seared into his subconscious.  What would you like to know?  Those words were not the words he had rehearsed and used time and time again, yet this time, and he didn’t know why, those were the ones that had escaped his mouth.

Apart from coaching basketball, what do you enjoy doing?

He wanted to say that when he wasn’t coaching basketball he liked to keep to himself.  And that would have been the truth.  It’s not that he didn’t like people or know how to carry on a conversation.  There had been a time that he relished being around people.  But all that changed five years ago and he could no longer enjoy the luxury of being everyone’s friend. 

Knowing that the truth would not help him land the head basketball coaching position, Eric decided on a different tactic.  I get along well with people, he began.  I am not a party person, but I do enjoy hanging out with people.  Not wanting to continue this topic, for fear it might escalate into something that would demand details, he quickly diverted the topic to something he was more comfortable talking about.  However, one of my favorite parts about coaching basketball is watching game film.  I often spend hours breaking down our game film as well as upcoming opponent’s film.

What do you look for in those films? Lawrence asked.

When looking at an opponent, I dissect what they like to do so that we can plan a way to keep them from getting into their comfort zone.  I also like to look for weaknesses that we might exploit, he explained.  When watching our game film, I look for areas where we can improve.  Maybe our screens aren’t set well or at the proper time.  Or maybe some of our players aren’t in the perfect position or they fail to carry out certain fakes.  Perhaps we are slow in our defensive rotation.  Things like that.

Speaking of defense, Lawrence interrupted.  What kind of defense do you like to run?

Eric inwardly smiled at this line of questioning.  When it came to basketball, there was nothing he liked to talk about more than the type of defense he loved to run.  But he also knew what answers athletic directors wanted to hear – A full court man-to-man pressing defense.  So that is exactly what Eric talked about.  But if the truth be told, Eric had not made up his mind what kind of defense he would run.  In high school he had played in a program that was a full court pressing, up-tempo type team.  They had put a lot of points on the board and had won their share of regular season games, but once it was playoff time, their attack had been slowed to a half-court game and they were beaten in the first round of the playoffs.  However, his senior year in high school had brought a new coach to the team and an entire new system.  They had played a match-up zone and seldom pressed.  They had gone three rounds in the playoffs.  They may not have been as exciting of a team to watch as its predecessor, but their post season success spoke volumes to the validity of its style.  It was that season and that coach that had convinced Eric that he wanted to be a basketball coach.  And he knew that if that time would ever come, he would coach by the same philosophy his mentor used: To be successful in the playoffs, a team must be great at defending in the half-court as well as executing a half-court offense.  He just wondered why most athletic directors seemed to be blinded by the glitz and glamor of an up-tempo game that took not only great athletes to be successful, but also a deep team.

For the next half hour, Eric continued answering hypothetical situations.  How would you deal with parents who are upset about their son’s playing time?  What would you do if your star player had been caught skipping class?  How do you deal with a player whose grades are starting to slip?  With each answer Eric gave, Lawrence nodded and occasionally a smile slightly crossed his lips.

I’m going to call your references and run this all by the administration, Lawrence stated as he rose from his desk.  I will be in contact with you within twenty-four hours.

Thank you, Eric responded as he followed what he hoped to be his future boss’s lead.  I will look forward to hearing from you.

Twenty minutes after he began his return trip to his most recent temporary home near Dallas, Eric’s cell phone rang.  Once glance at the phone revealed the area code that matched the one from the school.  He quickly turned down the car stereo that had been playing the Alan Jackson song, Little Bitty, which he thought to be an appropriate song for the town he had just left.  Hello, this is Eric, he answered the cell phone.

Coach Rightman, the voice of Coach Lawrence sounded in his ear.  We don’t usually do things this quickly, but I wanted to let you know that I was very impressed with you and have already talked to a couple of your references and they speak very highly of you.

Thank you, were the only words that Eric could think of to say.

And if you are still interested in coaching basketball at Miller, then we want to offer you the position.

It was everything Eric could do to keep from yelling his excitement into the phone.  Being a head basketball coach had been a dream of his since his senior year in high school.  And during his four years of basically riding the bench on a college team, that dream had only deepened.  But that was before he ran away from his past to live in Texas. Yes, I am very interested, he responded.

We won’t have your paperwork ready until next Monday, Lawrence informed him.  Football practice starts on Monday, but I won’t expect you at practice all of next week.  But if you could come by to fill out the paperwork next week, that would be great.  The administration office has a list of possible places you might want to live.

When would you like me to start? Eric asked, the excitement registering in his voice.

If you could start the following Monday that would be great, Lawrence answered. 

I’ll be there, Eric answered, hardly containing his excitement.  He would finally have a head coaching position.  Sure it would be in a small town and was not one of the large schools he had always dreamed of coaching.  But he no longer was sure he wanted to fulfill the dream of coaching in the large cities.  This school, classified 2A by the state of Texas, would be how he would reach his modified dream.

Chapter 2

Six Weeks Later

Lacey Littleton took a deep breath as she stepped into the editor and chief’s office of the Tri City Recorder.  Even though she knew her work as a news reporter had been received well by all the important people in the three towns she covered and to her knowledge she had done nothing to warrant a reprimand of any kind, being called into that office always made her feel like a high school student being called into the principal’s office. 

Come in, Lacey, Edgar Reece called to her from behind his desk as he turned away from his 18 inch monitor that hung on the wall beside him.  Have a seat.

Oh, those last words did not sound good at all.  Those were the words her parents had used when she was in trouble.  What have I done? she muttered inside her head.

By the way, Reece began.  That was a very nice piece you wrote last week on the new Superintendent for Miller ISD.

Thank you, she smiled as she crossed her legs trying to appear comfortable.  I’m glad you liked it.

A nice bit of writing about the man and what his plans are for the district, he chuckled.  And just enough mystery left to keep people reading anything else you write on the subject.

She smiled inwardly at his innuendo that she would be writing future stories.  At least this meeting wasn’t about losing her job.

I am sure you heard that Scott Wilson has taken a job at a bigger paper outside of Houston,  Reece changed the subject. 

Yes, I heard, she shook her head.  It sounds like a very good deal for him.

He nodded. I hated to lose him.  He was a good sports editor.  But he really deserved the new job he got.

Do you have any good applicants to replace him? Lacey asked.

That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Reece stated.

Oh no, Lacey blurted before she could even began to think of all the reasons why she did not want to take that position.  I’m not interested.

Reece cleared his throat.  I’m not really asking.  We don’t have much of a choice here.

Sure we do, Lacey interrupted.  It’s a good job to have.  I bet we can find people out there who would love to be a sports editor.

That’s not the problem, he countered.  We simply do not have it in the budget to hire a new writer for what is essentially a small town newspaper.

We cover three small towns, she retorted.

And add them all together and we are still one small town.

That’s not the point, she continued.  The truth of the matter is that I don’t even like high school sports, much less know anything about them.

Reece reached for a stack of folders on the table next to his desk.  With a loud thud, he plopped them on the desk in front of her.  Here are the basics of the major sports you will be covering.  Wilson has agreed to stay here in a limited capacity for two more weeks to help show you the ropes as to how to cover football.

What do you mean in a limited capacity? she piped in.

Reece cleared his throat before smiling.  It means he will be here the next two Friday nights to help you write a story covering a Friday night football game.

Lacey rolled her eyes, not really caring that her boss saw her gesture.  I think you are making a big mistake.  I will probably ruin high school football for everyone.

Oh, I doubt that, he laughed.  You are perhaps the best writer I have ever had on my staff.

If I am, she forced a smile.  It’s because I know how to read people I interview and dig into their mind and translate that onto paper in a way that intrigues people.  He started to interrupt, but her raised finger stopped him before more than a syllable became audible.  And I do not believe those skills can be translated into stating statistics from a stupid high school football game.

Then use the skills you do have, he ordered.  Find out who these people are away from athletic competition.  Make the public care about our coaches and players as people, not just someone they see on the sideline or in a game.  Show us who they are.  Make them real.

She reached for the stack of folders that were sitting in front of her.  They were even heavier than they looked.  What was she getting into?  Is there any way I can talk you out of this? she batted her long eyelashes at him all the while knowing that the little flirting technique would not even come close to working.

None, he remarked.  I have full confidence in you.

You do realize that if I had another option, I would hand in my resignation right now, she threatened.  I mean don’t get me wrong.  I have enjoyed working here.  But growing up I never thought I would come back to Miller to live. And I don’t plan on living here forever.

I know, Reece nodded his head.  Had your mother not needed you after your father died, you would have never knocked on my door looking for a job and I would have never hired the best reporter this newspaper has ever seen.

Lacey grinned and tossed her long brunette hair.  Flattery, Mr. Reece, will get you nowhere. 

How about an extra $300 a month? he stated with a straight face.  I can’t afford to replace Wilson, but I do have a little bit extra I can give now that his salary will be off the books.

$500, she flatly stated.  I’m doing the job of two people now.  That’s the least you can do,

$400, he countered.  I really cannot go higher unless the paper sales grow considerably.

She paused for a minute as her mind churned in thought.  Okay, $400 now, but if I can get the revenue of the paper up, I want a bonus of 3% for every 10% growth.

We don’t give bonuses, he frowned.  I don’t even get one.

Think about it, Mr. Reece, she coyly smiled.  It’s a win-win situation.  The paper makes more money.  I make more money.  She paused and stared her brown eyes into his grey ones.  And you will make more money if you want to give yourself a bonus.  She grinned at him again, knowing that she had made his mind begin to think.  And, she continued.  Since you are talking about retiring in the next five years, a little bonus money set aside to take your wife on some trips when you retire might be a good idea."

Okay, you win, he betrayed a smile behind his eyes.  $400 a month and 3% of any growth beyond 10%.  To be paid out quarterly.

I always win, she giggled as she turned on her heel and strode out the room, feeling happy with herself for negotiating a good deal. 

But her smile faded as she dropped the folders on her desk.  What have you done, Lacey? she whispered to herself.  How are you going to raise the sales of a newspaper in this digital age?  She opened the top folder on her desk.  The paper read, A Newbie’s Guide to the Game of Football.  I can’t believe I am doing this, she muttered as she began to skim through the article.

She had no sooner delved into the rather boring reading when Reece’s voice interrupted her thoughts.  Lacey, I got your first sports assignment.  Other than a barely audible groan, she did not respond.  This one is right down your alley and might be a good way to break you into sports reporting.

If it has anything to do with football, I haven’t even made it through one of these folders yet.

What angle you take for this story is entirely up to you.  It can be a human interest story.  It doesn’t have to be about football.

A human interest story?  Now he had her interest peaked.  What’s the story? 

You know who Matt Spencer is, right? he began.  She shook her head.  The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she had no idea why she would know it.  You don’t? he coughed as he rolled his eyes at her.  You really don’t know much about sports do you?

I told you. she shrugged her shoulders.  I take it he is the Mustangs best player?

Not really, he laughed.  Matt Spencer is the best Mustang player, he paused and slightly raised his voice for emphasis.  OF ALL TIME.  She shrugged her shoulders again, not being impressed by the enthusiasm of her boss.  He is the team’s offensive coordinator now, he finalized his gloat.

Offense, she bit her lip in partially mock ignorance.  That’s when we have the ball, right.  Reece touched his forefinger to his temple and smiled.  I just read that in one of the football for dummies folders you gave me.

Well he is speaking at a church in Corpus Christi tonight.  I want you to go and cover it and get me a story.

What? she gasped.  You want me to go to church to get a story?  On a Monday night?  Who goes to church on a Monday night?  I certainly don’t.

You don’t go to church on any day, he reminded her.

I’m too busy, she lied.  There had been a time she had gone to church regularly.  Her parents had made sure of that.  Every Sunday, rain or shine, they would take their three kids, all dressed up in their Sunday best to a small church in Miller.  She knew the church.  She knew the traditions and the teachings and what they said constituted a good Christian girl and what made up what they called a heathen.  She had always been that good Christian girl.  Until her freshman year in college. 

I’d go to hear Matt Spencer tell his story, Reece grinned.  But this thing tonight is for you guys in your twenties.  From what I hear, the music itself would make me go deaf.  So I am counting on you writing a story that will make me feel like I was there.

No pressure, she sighed, wrinkling her nose.

I have all the confidence in you, he responded.  "Now read those folders I gave you so you can sound halfway intelligent if you mention the word football in your article."

Retrieving her cell phone from her purse, Lacey activated the voice commands and spoke, Call Karen Roscoe.  Within seconds, the phone was ringing her best friend.

Lacey, Karen’s voice sounded excited to answer the phone.  What’s up?  I was just thinking about you.

Good thoughts I hope, Lacey answered back, a smile growing on her face.  Ever since they had become friends in sixth grade, Karen had always been able to put a smile on Lacey’s face.  Part of it had to do with how goofy she liked to act sometimes, but much of it had to do with the infectious optimism that Karen seemed to have that bubbled out every time she spoke.

Of course, Karen giggled.  I was thinking that we haven’t hung out together for an evening in a really long time.

No we haven’t, Lacey agreed.  It’s been too long.  We really should.

Then it’s settled, Karen stated.  Girls night out this Friday.

I can’t, Lacey groaned.  That’s actually part of why I called you.

You called me to tell me that we can’t hang out Friday night before I even asked you to, Karen teased.  Wow, Lace, that’s pretty cool.  You are becoming psychic.

I wish, Lacey responded.  Because if I was psychic, I could probably handle this without being scared to death.

Handle what? Karen shot out.  Is there a new guy in your life that you haven’t told me about?  What’s the scoop?  Is he cute?

Shut up, Lacey laughed.  Of course there isn’t a guy in my life.  I don’t have time for one of those.  As hard as she tried, she could not force her mind away from the thoughts of one of the most painful memories of her life.  There was more to not wanting to have a guy in her life than just her busy schedule.  She did not want to run the risk of being hurt again like she had been two and half years before when her boyfriend had left her in the midst of her hardest time.

Then what is it? Karen eagerly asked.  What could be bigger than a new guy in your life?

It’s my job, she quickly spat out.  I kind of got a promotion.

That’s wonderful, Karen practically yelped.  And I take it you have to work this Friday night.

Even though she knew Karen could not see her facial gestures, Lacey rolled her eyes and bit down on her lip.  Pretty  much every Friday night from now until next June.

Really?  She could picture Karen on the other end of the phone crinkling her nose in her response.  What is so important that will have you working every Friday night?

Uh, high school sports, Lacey groaned.

Are you serious, Karen giggled.  You hate sports.

I didn’t have a choice, Lacey responded.  I have to do this.

Well it had better come with a big pay increase, Karen hoped.

It comes with a decent one, Lacey answered.  And potentially even higher if newspaper sales began to grow.

Ha, Karen humphed.  Better count on your present salary.  The newspaper is a dying entity.

I’m going to make it happen, Karen, Lacey promised, a sound of determination in her voice.

Well if anyone can, you can, Karen responded.  Any thoughts as to how you are going to do that?

Not a clue, Lacey confessed.  That’s kind of why I was calling you.

You got me, Karen sounded confused.  I am an elementary school teacher.  I know nothing about marketing a newspaper.

I know.  I just need your support.

You got it, Karen promised.

And I need you to drive with me to Corpus Christi tonight.  I have to cover this big twenty something church event that this coach is speaking at?

What? Karen shot back.  You want to do what?  Is this Lacey Littleton I am talking to?  The girl who swore off anything to do with God when you were in college?

Don’t act so surprised, Lacey scolded.  I’m not looking to become some kind of religious person.  I just have to cover this thing tonight and I know you go to church all the time so it wouldn’t maybe be too uncomfortable for you.

I go to that every Monday night, Karen laughed.  So yeah, I will go with you.

Do I have to get all dressed up for this thing? Lacey bit her lip, hoping she wasn’t going to have to go get into one of her fancy dresses.

No, Karen giggled.  You can come as casual as you want.  Jeans, shorts, skirt.  It doesn’t really matter.

Good, is all Lacy could think of to say.

Does your mom know?

No way, Lacey retorted.  I don’t really want her to know either.  If she knew then she would be talking to me about it all the time, trying to get me to repent and things like that.  I’m not ready to have those discussions with my mother.  I will never go back to that church again, Lacey swore.  They practically wanted to cast the devil out of me and said I was a depraved reprobate.

I told you then that God forgives a lot easier than people do, Karen sighed. 

We’ll see about that, Lacey frowned.  I really don’t think I need all that forgiveness stuff.  I just need people to mind their own business and not cast judgment on me for what they think they know.  Because they don’t really know squat.

I’ll tell you what, Karen began.  Let’s not worry about church right now.  Church is filled with people and people are flawed.  I don’t want you to be scared away from God because you see the flaws in church people.

What? Lacey’s shock registered in her voice.  Are you trying to tell me not to go to church after all these years of telling me that I should?

Not exactly, Karen smiled.  But I am thinking that you need to go with me tonight to a meeting at a church in Corpus Christi.  But I guess it’s not exactly church.  Although I guess it is a lot like church.  But it is primarily designed for twenty-somethings and not filled with a lot of the ancient traditions and mindsets of the older generation.  I think you will find Christians our age far less judgmental than the traditional churches.

I have to run, Lacey stated in an obvious attempt to stop this line of conversation from continuing.  It wasn’t really a lie though.  She knew she should do some research on this Matt Spencer guy before she heard him speak.

It starts at 7:30, Karen said.  So I’ll pick you up at six.

Okay, Lacey agreed as she hung up the phone.  What was she getting herself into?  She was now a sports editor and about to go to a church service where people would stand in judgment of her for things they thought they knew.  She began to read the next folder.

Chapter 3

The sound of the final whistle ending football practice never sounded better for Eric Rightman.  It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy football.  He did.  It was a great sport and he loved the spirit surrounding a Friday night game in Texas.  But football practice had been going solid for two months now and even though the south Texas heat that at one time had almost been unbearable had slightly cooled off, he was tired of practicing football for a team that had won only one game and had no chance of even sniffing the playoffs.  Basketball was his sport and the start of basketball practice was just a few weeks away.  He could almost hear the echoing sound of a bouncing basketball reverb through the old campus gym.

Hey, Coach Rightman, Offensive Coordinator, Matt Spencer called as he jogged up next to him. 

Hey, Matt, what’s up? Eric answered.  He could never get used to why all the coaches always called each other ‘Coach’ even when they were away from the team.  It’s as if the only first name a coach had was ‘Coach’ and everyone used it.  Eric refused to fall into those formalities.  On the field and with the players, he was Coach Rightman.  But when it came to his peers, he wanted to be called Eric and he constantly called the other coaches by their first name.  Well, there was one exception. His boss, the head football coach and athletic director of the school was Coach Lawrence.  He would never call him by his first name.

Neither of us has laundry duty this week, Matt began.  And I thought I would ask you if you would like to drive in to Corpus Christi with me tonight.  I am speaking at a gathering of several hundred young adults.  I could use the company on the drive.

Are you speaking at a football convention or an FCA meeting or something? Eric asked, wanting to be polite, but not really wanting to find himself in a large crowd of people.  Especially if they were going to talk only about football.

It’s actually a gathering of young adults in their twenties who are meeting together to show the world that Christianity is not a religion for the older generation, but is something relevant and exciting for today’s world.

I go to church sometimes, Eric lied.  The truth is that he had not gone to church since he started college.  With basketball practice and studying, he never really had the time to go then.  And since college, he had chosen not to return to church.  Church people have always had a knack for looking into people’s eyes and sensing when they were confused and hurting.  He had not wanted to deal with any of that.  He much preferred to stay home alone on Sundays, sleep late, and watch football all afternoon.

Trust me, Matt laughed.  This won’t be anything like any church you find around here.  He slowed his pace, forcing Eric to politely slow down as well.  And besides, he continued.  If I am going to be your assistant basketball coach, we had better start discussing the season.  Practice starts in a few weeks.

You know just what to say, don’t you? Eric laughed.  Lure me in with basketball talk and you know I will agree to go with you.

Hey, I was just saying, Matt raised his hands in mock defense.  I thought it would be a good time to start talking about the season.

And then I get to hear you preach, Eric laughed.  Not sure if that is a good trade off or not.

Not me, Matt scoffed.  "I am no preacher.  I’m