We rarely spoke during practice unless it was him calling me a different synonym for slow, or asking me if I was going to finish my passing drills in the next decade. I didn’t take it personally and tried not to think about it too much. We’d just played softball. We hadn’t gotten married.
Awkward thought.
So… whatever. I was learning and growing, and I was busy enough that this weird friendship didn’t live at the front of my brain.
“Are you playing again tonight?” Kulti whispered the question when I was close.
I kept my eyes forward, no matter how badly I wanted to look at him. “I was thinking about it.” I paused. “Do you want to go?”
“Yes,” he answered quickly. “Same time, same place?”
“Yep.” I waved at Harlow as she walked by; totally not missing the raised eyebrow she was giving me. “I’ll wait for you in the same spot.”
Kulti grunted his agreement.
We both went our own ways, wordlessly.
I couldn’t help but think about the fact that he wanted to go play again. He wanted to play softball of all things.
Then it hit me just like it had the first time; Reiner Kulti wanted to play with me. He’d asked. Again.
I was on such a one track mind that I wasn’t paying attention as I prepared to leave. My mind was on the fact that I had his phone number—poop—and that I really hoped Marc wouldn’t say anything this week either, when a reporter snagged me on the way to my car.
“Casillas! Sal!”
I slowed down and turned. A man not much older than me was sitting off the side under the shade, a tape recorder clearly visible in one hand and a messenger bag over his shoulder. Whatever media showed up was always before practice, no one ever stayed after.
“Hey,” I told him.
“I have a few questions for you,” he said quickly, rattling off his name before skipping the whole ‘if you have time part.’ I didn’t have time, but I didn’t want to be rude.
Instead I said, “Sure. Shoot.”
The first two questions were easy, normal. What I thought about analysts saying we had a tough road ahead for the championship, with the inception of two new teams in the WPL? Why would it be a tough road? I enjoyed a struggle. What we were doing to assure we would continue to move up past the regular season? He must have thought I was dumb enough to give away the imaginary tricks we had planned. No one ever wanted to hear that it was hard work, practice and discipline that were the key to winning at anything. Then finally, it happened: “What do you think about the rumors circulating that Reiner Kulti has a drinking problem that’s been kept confidential?”
Again?
I tried to think about all of my PR training in the past. There could never be any hesitation when journalists asked questions like that. You absolutely couldn’t let them see that they’d rattled you. I especially wouldn’t since I’d grown almost fond of the German bratwurst lately. Well at least I think there was more beyond his crispy exterior. “I think that he’s a fantastic coach and that rumors are none of my business.”
Fantastic coach? All right. That was stretching the truth a bit, but it was a white lie. At best I’d say he was trying.
“Has he given the impression that he might be drinking excessively?” He snapped out the question quickly.
I allowed myself to blink at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry but you’re making me feel really uncomfortable. The only thing he does excessively is push us to better ourselves in any way he can.” What I didn’t say was that he did it by yelling at us like we were the scum of the earth, but did the method work? It most definitely did. “Look, I like him. I like him a lot as a player and as a coach. He’s one of the most decorated athletes in history, and he’s a good man.” Lie? Not so much. He’d sent my dad a present. How? I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. A complete prick wouldn’t have thought twice about my little dad. “If there’s something in his past or if there isn’t, I could care less. I know him and respect him now more than ever. To me, that’s all that matters.”
“So, you’re neither confirming nor denying that there might be a chance—“
“Look, you can’t be that caliber of player without extreme self-discipline in some form. I’ve tried to drink a Coke before a game once, and it nearly killed me. I will gladly answer any questions you have about our upcoming games or practices, or just about anything else related to Pipers, but I’m not going to bad-mouth or spread gossip about someone that I value and respect when I don’t have a reason to.”