Unknown - Driven_589066

With a bit of chagrin, she admitted to herself that, given the relative youth of the team, and the attendant lack of wide ranging experience, she had

expected an offense heavy with plays that emphasized a ball-control, clock-eating, half-court scheme.

Low scoring, perhaps, but usually effective against bigger and more experienced teams.

Instead, she found herself looking at plays that emphasized what was sometimes called a “run and gun” offense; an offense which was very much like

what many, if not most, professional men’s teams used—heavy in transition, all motion, utilizing the full court instead of just half of it.

Discovering this, she came to realize exactly why it was that she, of all players in the draft, had been chosen to lead this team.

A point guard in a run and gun offense didn’t have to be the best athlete on the court, just the smartest and the most unselfish. And Catherine Hodges had

legitimate claim to both of those attributes.

In spades.

She’d led just such an offense for four years running, and while she was never the points leader, she’d led the conference in assists for three of those four

years. She thought well on her feet, was quick, and an expert passer who could read defenses as well as anyone in the conference. Her three point and foul

shooting abilities didn’t hurt either.

With a happy sigh, she closed the book, laid it back down on the floor, and sunk deep in the hottub, allowing the jets of water to work their magic on her

aching muscles.

The phone rang for the fourth time and Cat’s face dropped. “Come on, come on,” she softly pled, needing to hear the sound of her mother’s voice. It wasn’t

an urge that hit her often, but when it did, obstacles be damned.

“Hodge residence.” The voice of her youngest brother croaked out against her ear.

“Hey butthead.” She plopped down in the overstuffed armchair and proceeded to get comfortable.

“Hey Beavis. Whatcha doing?”

“Calling to see how ya’ll are surviving without me?”

“Eh, you know, the dork level in the house went down ten points when you left.” He giggled, having ‘gotten off a good one’ as the household was fond of

saying. Cat could tell one of her other brothers had used the line previously and he willingly repeated it, passing it off as his own.

“Love you to brat. Mom home?”

“Of course. She baking pies for the PTA bake sale Friday.”

“Peach or apple?”

“Yup.”

Hodge’s stomach growled at the mention of her mother’s pies. “Has she got time to talk to me?”

“I dunno let me ask her.”

Cat pulled the phone from her ear when he let loose a blood-curdling yell into the speaker. Wincing, she scowled at the phone, silently vowing to Indian

rope burn her brother to within an inch of his life the next time she saw him.

“Catherine? Honey are you all right?”

Putting the phone back to her ear, Cat swallowed the knot that had formed in her throat and smiled as she answered quietly. “Hi Mom.”

“Honey what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong Mom. I just wanted to call and see how you guys were doing.”

“Well, we do miss you a lot. Your father has done nothing but grumble about the boys beating him at basketball ever since you left.”

Cat grinned and settled into the chair, throwing a blanket over her legs. “I’m sure he’s fine. He always grumbles.”

“This is true. How are things going for you?”

The sound of her mother piddling around the kitchen brought a smile to Cat’s face. It was the sound of home that she found herself missing very much.

“Okay. I mean great, but they’re working my butt off and I came home from practice the other night feeling like I was going to die. Coach is fantastic, but

damn she doesn’t let up for even one minute. One of the girls puked.”

“Catherine! I’m fixing pies here, if you don’t mind.”

“Sorry.” Hodge held the phone closer, trying to get as close to her mom as possible. “I miss you guys.”

“And we miss you too. You know you can always come home honey. We won’t think any less of you for it.”

“I know, but I won’t. I’m doing something important here and I intend to stick with it. It’s just hard being away from home right now. It feels permanent, ya

know?”

“It’s the first time you’ve ever been away from home and truly on your own honey. Even in college you came home once a month.”

“I know and this feels different.”

“But this is always your home and you can come back anytime.”

“Thanks. I think that’s what I needed to hear.”

“And Catherine?”

“Yes Mom?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye sweetheart.”

Hodge placed the receiver in the cradle then curled up in the chair, pulling the blanket over her body and staring out the window of her apartment at the

lights of the city. “I love you, Mom.”

The sound of the whistle’s sharp blast echoed through the cavernous arena.

“Damnit, Hodges,” Caulley screamed from inches away, “is this a new development or were you just born stupid?!?”

Gritting her teeth, Hodge resisted the urge to heft the ball in her hands and stick it where the sun never dared to shine. Instead, she concentrated on

keeping her body relaxed and her thoughts clear. “Sorry coach,” she said finally, once she could be sure her anger wouldn’t come through in her voice.

“Sorry? We’ve been at this now for two hours and all you can say is ‘sorry’??” Turning in a circle, Caulley addressed the rest of the team, her eyes wide

with mock surprise. “Did you hear that, ladies? Catherine Hodges is sorry! Isn’t that special?” Hands on hips, she shook her head. “I hope you’re all in a

forgiving mood at three am tomorrow morning when we’re still trying to get through this simple little drill.”

The others shuffled their feet, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

With a noiseless sigh, Hodge dribbled the ball back to the endline and awaited Caulley’s next order.

In truth, it was a simple drill; one that Cat had run through a thousand times in the past. It was a drill that attempted to break a full-court press; something

that Cat could normally do in her sleep.

The added wrinkle to this particular drill, however, was that Cat wasn’t allowed to use her natural quickness to avoid the trap block. Instead, she was

required to dribble right into it, pull up, and look for an open teammate to pass to, while two hulking behemoths dressed like coaches waved their arms in

her face. An additional problem was that the only teammates she could pass to were short guards who were guarded by very tall forwards every step of the

way.

It made the situation difficult, to say the least.

The whistle blew, bringing Hodge back into the present, and she dribbled the ball toward the trap block, everything in her resisting the urge to exploit the

space between her two defenders that one could have driven an entire herd of elephants through, were one so inclined.

Pulling up as ordered, she attempted to ignore the hands waving in her face. Out of the corner of one eye, she spied a fast moving blur moving to her right.

In a move more instinctual than premeditated, she rifled a sharp blast toward the blur, all the while praying it was one of her own teammates.

Still blinded, she could only listen as the sounds of the ball being rapidly dribbled toward her goal reached her ears, followed by a long moment of silence,

and then a noise which could only be the ball swishing sweetly through the net.

Then more silence, dragging on until it was broken by the deep velvet voice of one Dylan Lambert. “And that, ladies, is how you break a full court press.”