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Dimi Kabat has been coach of the Las Vegas Wildcards, but after a dissapointing pre-season left him with a weakened squad, the results have seen the team slumping towards the bottom of the FBA. A rotten collapse in Seattle leaves the normally stoic coach facing a fight for his job and his place in the FBA....
Artwork is by
pac
The FBA is curated by
rourkie - contact him to find out more about the Furry Basketball Association.
The major characters in this piece are copyright to myself
lizzimba
***********
He stood on the steps staring down at the airport tarmac, lashing rain causing his thin spectacles to steam up slightly as the pitter-patter of icy rain matted the grey fur on his nose. His heavy sigh forming a misty cloud as he exhaled. He stood alone having got back from Seattle. His team had long departed, and he had stood here frozen in time. The call he had had could mean nothing else. There would be no other reason he would be called in. He stared blankly and remorsefully at the green text on his admittedly out of date phone.
‘Dimi, could we have a word in private please?’
He took a small woollen wipe out of his brown mac and cleaned his glasses immaculately and placed them back on his nose, only for them to steam up immediately.
This was the end of the road. He was about to let go as coach of the Las Vegas Wildcards after over three years at the franchise. The teams form had nosedived and even he was struggling to pretend he wasn't failing. As he had learnt back in the hot spa baths in Budapest playing chess against his uncles, once you have lost sight of the next three or four moves you plan, you might as well swipe your king into the water to have a relaxing time as well. His methodical and technological gameplans were not pulling anything new out of his players, and dissenters like Ryan Malone and Wayne Kirkpatrick has meant he knew unless he performed a miracle he was out of a job.
His king was cooked. Checkmate, might as well enjoy the spa salts.
The rain became icier as the warmth drenched from his mind to a cold new reality. No FBA. No future. No future moves.
************
The squirrel laid in a indoor hammock, swilling a malted whiskey on the rocks, knocking the ice on the glass with a rhythmic clank every few seconds. He hadn't drunk a drop. In reality he hadn't had anything to attempt to crowbar from his head with a lost sobriety, in fact his mind had rarely felt emptier. Staring at the ceiling fan chug away, he realised that his stomach burnt with guilt. Sorrow. Regret that he couldn't get the job done. Six years in the FBA had brought little fanfare. At least the feeling in his gut gave him something to feel.
In truth, the meeting had been a brief one. Very clinical, a mutual agreement about severance packages and then a quick sweep around the changing room to say goodbye to his team, a few pats on the shoulder and reassurances for his newer player, some gratitude to Misha for captaining at a tough time and then he made his excuses and left, knowing he may never work with any of those players ever again.
The door swing open slowly.
‘Daddy...I mean...Coach….’
Another grey squirrel had entered the room and though she was his own daughter, she had never visited his home. Despite playing for his team. To be fair, he hadn't offered her a reason to. His guilt over his inability to connect his daughter was certainly a huge regret. Now his mind was empty, his stress replaced with a new anxiety, maybe now was the time to reconnect.
Time to spend some time with his daughter.
‘I came to see if you were okay...must have been a shock…’
The squirrel laid back having not made eye contact skilled the glass in her direction.
‘I'm coping’
Keo sat down on the end of a futon and started to speak again.
‘Father, why do you hate me?’
That made the squirrel sit up.
‘Father, do I embarrass you?’
‘Keo, there's so much water under the bridge, I don't even know where to start…’
The squirrel snorted, stood up and poured herself an overly large tumbler of whisky.
‘Funny how you don't say no…’
The two sat in silence, Keo holding a weak yet passive aggressive smile, Dimi not really knowing where to look. Kabats together at last.
‘Also, it's funny to think how I'm the big FBA star now and you're the undrafted one now, it's almost like you owe me an apology…’
The younger squirrel took much joy in exaggerating how much of a star she was with Hollywood hand motions.
‘Keo, darling...I'm sorry you feel that way…’
‘You can't even say you're sorry. Even after all this time. I came to clear the air you know…’
‘Keo...I'm…’
Rising to her feet she stood over her father.
‘I have spent too long being silenced, being ignored, and I think it's time I had my say don't you think hmm?’
The silence was deafening as the squirrel took a huge slurp of liquor through her dainty buck teeth.
‘I reckon it'd be hard to have a less supportive father. One who disowned you for having friends, following her dreams of being like her dad, a big basketball star travelling the world. Swapping pen pushing for masterminding and changing sport...you know I really respected you? Even when you spent weekends away, even when you prioritised my brother over me...despite all that, I….stupidly...naively….IDOLISED you.’
She say back in a red velvet sofa chair playing with the whiskey bottle gently.
‘You always said I wasn't good enough Daddy...you said I'd never make it, guess I'm glad to prove you wrong...guess I should feel elated huh?’
The elder squirrel looked panicky and his voice came out unnecessarily loud.
‘I was trying to protect you Keo! Can't you see that? And now I can see I was wrong! Hell, I was even picking you to play…’
‘Protect me?’
She placed the glass down gently and traced a claw along it's rim before delicately removed her hand before staring back at her father with golden eyes.
‘Would a real father tell all and sundry not to trust me over my friendship with Elisa? You know full well she's no trouble…’
‘She's been in jail!’
‘She was innocent!’
Dimi stood to his feet.
‘She wasn't good enough for my girl!’
Keo smiled and then gently shook her head from side to side.
‘No Daddy, you didn't try to protect me, you wanted me ruined. Your enthusiastic daughter playing basketball in a brutal, physical, unfashionable way...because it's the only way I could play...and I got good! But you were never proud. No, just like always your work came first, your co start belief that your tech and your mindset could never fail, could never not change the sport of basketball. Viva la revolution you thought!’
‘Keo…’
‘The fact is, I was Daddys little embarassment. If I made it, the good Kabat name would have been laughed out of town. All your philosophies, Your regimes, your training made irrelevant by your own blood. You couldn't accept that you weren't right, and nothing was going to hold you back...not even your own daughter…’
Dimi adjusted his glasses and sighed his eyes welling up.
‘It was never about me Daddy. It wasn't about my dreams, my aspirations….it was all about protecting YOU.’
The grey squirrel slouched in his chair defeated.
‘You know what though? Your hate made me stronger. Look at these biceps…’
She effortlessly scrunched an arm to showcase her muscle mass.
‘That's you that is. My hatred of you. It drove me to be stronger, to prove you wrong. Even when you talked me down on Draft Night so no one would Draft Night. Your protection of yourself made me fight back...and I've been fighting back ever since…’
‘Keo, I don't know what there is to say…’
‘Daddy, there's nothing to say. You have failed haven't you. The game plan failed.
There was a moment of silence as the two exchanged looks before an uncharacteristic broad grin played out on Keo’s face.
The squirrel pulled a business card out her pocket and threw it on her father's lap a little more furiously than she meant.
‘Keo, what is this? Kirsten Zahavi?’
‘My super agent. Got me this gig at Vegas. My contacts told me you had failed to bring in enough players and the management were getting restless, so my super agent put in a good word and I got a job against all the odds...but who would reccomend a player only the 15th best in the League? Quite the mystery…’
Dimi stared at her daughter as she lifted her small and index finger to her ear to mimic a phone.
‘Oh hi there, is that Mikela Soros? Hi there this is Kirsten Zahavi, I'm sure you have heard my name before, have I got JUST the player you need…’
The squirrel was lapping up every moment of acting out the call in a deepened Southwestern drawl, quite unlike her normal confused Anglo-Hungarian accent.
‘No…’
‘That's Right Daddy, I am Kirsten Says hi. I got myself signed! Clever huh? Such a coincidence I ended up in Vegas, must have made you preeeeetty mad…’
At this point all he could manage was a scowl.
She brushed her hair out of her eye and leaned over him.
‘It wasn't enough to right the wrong of me not getting signed. I wanted my dreams realised once and for all, dear old Daddy doesn't get his dreams realised. His robotic plans reduced to rubble!’
She got out an envelope and threw it on the hammock.
‘I got you a leaving present.’
The squirrel sacheted out of the room. Dimi with shaking hands opened the scruffy envelope and pulled out the letters inside.
Everyone one of them hand written. Letters of no confidence in his ability to coach the Wildcards. Names all very familiar, his very own players. Kelsey Komminsk, Lisa DuPont, Ryan Malone, Wayne Kirkpatrick, Lucian Darcy...nine in total. Tucked in with them was a postcard. On it was a worn picture of one of Budapests greatest spas. He turned the car over.
‘Quite the handwriting expert aren't I?
Checkmate
Your daughter’
Artwork is by
pacThe FBA is curated by
rourkie - contact him to find out more about the Furry Basketball Association.The major characters in this piece are copyright to myself
lizzimba***********
He stood on the steps staring down at the airport tarmac, lashing rain causing his thin spectacles to steam up slightly as the pitter-patter of icy rain matted the grey fur on his nose. His heavy sigh forming a misty cloud as he exhaled. He stood alone having got back from Seattle. His team had long departed, and he had stood here frozen in time. The call he had had could mean nothing else. There would be no other reason he would be called in. He stared blankly and remorsefully at the green text on his admittedly out of date phone.
‘Dimi, could we have a word in private please?’
He took a small woollen wipe out of his brown mac and cleaned his glasses immaculately and placed them back on his nose, only for them to steam up immediately.
This was the end of the road. He was about to let go as coach of the Las Vegas Wildcards after over three years at the franchise. The teams form had nosedived and even he was struggling to pretend he wasn't failing. As he had learnt back in the hot spa baths in Budapest playing chess against his uncles, once you have lost sight of the next three or four moves you plan, you might as well swipe your king into the water to have a relaxing time as well. His methodical and technological gameplans were not pulling anything new out of his players, and dissenters like Ryan Malone and Wayne Kirkpatrick has meant he knew unless he performed a miracle he was out of a job.
His king was cooked. Checkmate, might as well enjoy the spa salts.
The rain became icier as the warmth drenched from his mind to a cold new reality. No FBA. No future. No future moves.
************
The squirrel laid in a indoor hammock, swilling a malted whiskey on the rocks, knocking the ice on the glass with a rhythmic clank every few seconds. He hadn't drunk a drop. In reality he hadn't had anything to attempt to crowbar from his head with a lost sobriety, in fact his mind had rarely felt emptier. Staring at the ceiling fan chug away, he realised that his stomach burnt with guilt. Sorrow. Regret that he couldn't get the job done. Six years in the FBA had brought little fanfare. At least the feeling in his gut gave him something to feel.
In truth, the meeting had been a brief one. Very clinical, a mutual agreement about severance packages and then a quick sweep around the changing room to say goodbye to his team, a few pats on the shoulder and reassurances for his newer player, some gratitude to Misha for captaining at a tough time and then he made his excuses and left, knowing he may never work with any of those players ever again.
The door swing open slowly.
‘Daddy...I mean...Coach….’
Another grey squirrel had entered the room and though she was his own daughter, she had never visited his home. Despite playing for his team. To be fair, he hadn't offered her a reason to. His guilt over his inability to connect his daughter was certainly a huge regret. Now his mind was empty, his stress replaced with a new anxiety, maybe now was the time to reconnect.
Time to spend some time with his daughter.
‘I came to see if you were okay...must have been a shock…’
The squirrel laid back having not made eye contact skilled the glass in her direction.
‘I'm coping’
Keo sat down on the end of a futon and started to speak again.
‘Father, why do you hate me?’
That made the squirrel sit up.
‘Father, do I embarrass you?’
‘Keo, there's so much water under the bridge, I don't even know where to start…’
The squirrel snorted, stood up and poured herself an overly large tumbler of whisky.
‘Funny how you don't say no…’
The two sat in silence, Keo holding a weak yet passive aggressive smile, Dimi not really knowing where to look. Kabats together at last.
‘Also, it's funny to think how I'm the big FBA star now and you're the undrafted one now, it's almost like you owe me an apology…’
The younger squirrel took much joy in exaggerating how much of a star she was with Hollywood hand motions.
‘Keo, darling...I'm sorry you feel that way…’
‘You can't even say you're sorry. Even after all this time. I came to clear the air you know…’
‘Keo...I'm…’
Rising to her feet she stood over her father.
‘I have spent too long being silenced, being ignored, and I think it's time I had my say don't you think hmm?’
The silence was deafening as the squirrel took a huge slurp of liquor through her dainty buck teeth.
‘I reckon it'd be hard to have a less supportive father. One who disowned you for having friends, following her dreams of being like her dad, a big basketball star travelling the world. Swapping pen pushing for masterminding and changing sport...you know I really respected you? Even when you spent weekends away, even when you prioritised my brother over me...despite all that, I….stupidly...naively….IDOLISED you.’
She say back in a red velvet sofa chair playing with the whiskey bottle gently.
‘You always said I wasn't good enough Daddy...you said I'd never make it, guess I'm glad to prove you wrong...guess I should feel elated huh?’
The elder squirrel looked panicky and his voice came out unnecessarily loud.
‘I was trying to protect you Keo! Can't you see that? And now I can see I was wrong! Hell, I was even picking you to play…’
‘Protect me?’
She placed the glass down gently and traced a claw along it's rim before delicately removed her hand before staring back at her father with golden eyes.
‘Would a real father tell all and sundry not to trust me over my friendship with Elisa? You know full well she's no trouble…’
‘She's been in jail!’
‘She was innocent!’
Dimi stood to his feet.
‘She wasn't good enough for my girl!’
Keo smiled and then gently shook her head from side to side.
‘No Daddy, you didn't try to protect me, you wanted me ruined. Your enthusiastic daughter playing basketball in a brutal, physical, unfashionable way...because it's the only way I could play...and I got good! But you were never proud. No, just like always your work came first, your co start belief that your tech and your mindset could never fail, could never not change the sport of basketball. Viva la revolution you thought!’
‘Keo…’
‘The fact is, I was Daddys little embarassment. If I made it, the good Kabat name would have been laughed out of town. All your philosophies, Your regimes, your training made irrelevant by your own blood. You couldn't accept that you weren't right, and nothing was going to hold you back...not even your own daughter…’
Dimi adjusted his glasses and sighed his eyes welling up.
‘It was never about me Daddy. It wasn't about my dreams, my aspirations….it was all about protecting YOU.’
The grey squirrel slouched in his chair defeated.
‘You know what though? Your hate made me stronger. Look at these biceps…’
She effortlessly scrunched an arm to showcase her muscle mass.
‘That's you that is. My hatred of you. It drove me to be stronger, to prove you wrong. Even when you talked me down on Draft Night so no one would Draft Night. Your protection of yourself made me fight back...and I've been fighting back ever since…’
‘Keo, I don't know what there is to say…’
‘Daddy, there's nothing to say. You have failed haven't you. The game plan failed.
There was a moment of silence as the two exchanged looks before an uncharacteristic broad grin played out on Keo’s face.
The squirrel pulled a business card out her pocket and threw it on her father's lap a little more furiously than she meant.
‘Keo, what is this? Kirsten Zahavi?’
‘My super agent. Got me this gig at Vegas. My contacts told me you had failed to bring in enough players and the management were getting restless, so my super agent put in a good word and I got a job against all the odds...but who would reccomend a player only the 15th best in the League? Quite the mystery…’
Dimi stared at her daughter as she lifted her small and index finger to her ear to mimic a phone.
‘Oh hi there, is that Mikela Soros? Hi there this is Kirsten Zahavi, I'm sure you have heard my name before, have I got JUST the player you need…’
The squirrel was lapping up every moment of acting out the call in a deepened Southwestern drawl, quite unlike her normal confused Anglo-Hungarian accent.
‘No…’
‘That's Right Daddy, I am Kirsten Says hi. I got myself signed! Clever huh? Such a coincidence I ended up in Vegas, must have made you preeeeetty mad…’
At this point all he could manage was a scowl.
She brushed her hair out of her eye and leaned over him.
‘It wasn't enough to right the wrong of me not getting signed. I wanted my dreams realised once and for all, dear old Daddy doesn't get his dreams realised. His robotic plans reduced to rubble!’
She got out an envelope and threw it on the hammock.
‘I got you a leaving present.’
The squirrel sacheted out of the room. Dimi with shaking hands opened the scruffy envelope and pulled out the letters inside.
Everyone one of them hand written. Letters of no confidence in his ability to coach the Wildcards. Names all very familiar, his very own players. Kelsey Komminsk, Lisa DuPont, Ryan Malone, Wayne Kirkpatrick, Lucian Darcy...nine in total. Tucked in with them was a postcard. On it was a worn picture of one of Budapests greatest spas. He turned the car over.
‘Quite the handwriting expert aren't I?
Checkmate
Your daughter’
Category Story / All
Species Squirrel
Size 928 x 705px
File Size 115.8 kB
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