Tony drives down the highway, taking a hit from his vape. It's 8:00 in the morning and I'm exhausted, to say the least. I chowed down on some good Indian food last night, and I think the rice is still digesting in my stomach. Today we're having a team workout at the beach, bright and early. There are some sandy hills that coach has us run up and down, and it's a killer workout for even the best athletes. Tony looks over and notices me practically falling back asleep in the passenger seat.

          "Wake up, bro," he says, taking another hit from the vape. "We've gotta get this work in if we wanna bounce back this season."

          Usually, the roles would be reversed, with me motivating Tony to get up, considering I'm supposed to be the leader of this team. But my eyes are so heavy, and my usual passion and motivation to work out just aren't there today.

          "I know, I know," I say, covering my mouth and hiding another yawn. "Just give me a minute  to wake up." My body feels heavy and lethargic. Getting out of bed this morning was more of a challenge than passion, whereas in the past I'd be up at 7:00 am, getting shots in and working out before class, as other students slept in.

          "So, bro," Tony says, looking over at me half asleep. "Considering you're the team captain, what we gotta do to bounce back this year? I think we both weren't expecting to start off like this."

          "Yeah, I wasn't expecting it either," I reply, slightly not interested in what he's saying—not because I don't like Tony—but because I'm feeling really out of it. "Well, we have to get our shit together defensively. On offence, we need to run our plays more carefully and not turn the ball over."

          He nods. "I feel you, bro."

          When we pull into the beach parking lot, the boys are crowded around the sand dunes and getting loose by stretching. Tony and I get our shit and meet by the water. I have a hoodie over my head from the wind blowing over me. Ugh...the breeze is cold. Gosh, where's all my passion and competitive, killer instinct going? What happened to the guy who refused to be outworked and competed against on the court?

          Naturally, we form a circle around Coach Meldrum and Coach Anton. Meldrum is wearing a cap with a curved brim, along with a pair of dark sunglasses that hide his eyes—a rather stern, serious look that I haven't seen him pull off before.

          "Hello, boys," he says, the tone in his voice more monotone than his usual encouraging speeches. "You guys know the drill. Get into your groups, get warmed up, and start running your sets up and down the hill."

          I call the boys and we start going for a light jog down the beach. We huddle around like a bunch of guys stuck in boot camp—because that's what this feels like—challenging, and not something I feel committed to at this present moment. But I have to set a good example for my teammates. I'm the guy they look up to, and I need to be there for them. As we jog, most of the boys are holding discussions amongst themselves. Sadly, and not surprisingly, I'm thinking more about all the foods I'd like to spoil myself with.

          Ugh...get it together, Declan.

          Once we arrive back at the original meeting spot, assistant Coach Anton has set up cones along the sandy hill. As usual, Tony follows me over to the right side of the hill, where we usually sprint to the top and back down five times, before getting a water break. As I made clear earlier, this is a killer workout, even for those who are in the best of shape. Once again, it's Coach Anton who's strangely in charge this time, as he blows the whistle to start off the first group.

          Even though I'm feeling out of it, I cheer on Tony as I watch him grinding hard. Back and forth our teammates go, their facial expressions already showing the anguish and difficulty of the workout. I remember last year nobody on the team could last with me in this exercise. I know I keep talking about the past, but my competitiveness would never let me come second at anything I did. I was a killer like Michael Jordan on the court. Now...I'm not so sure.

          Bending over and gasping on his knees, I give Tony a high-five as he completes his set. Right away, without wasting time, Coach Anton blows his whistle again. As I predicted, this workout is difficult, but I didn't picture it this difficult. Within my third lap, I'm already starting to feel my heart pounding against my chest like a set of drums. The burning sensations in my legs, the same ones I used to love, are almost overwhelming for me.

          Still, I manage to complete my set. But for the very first time since being on the team, I don't come first place. Our small forward, Melvin Direton, beats me by a full-length stride. As we stand amongst ourselves, watching the other group go, he and I make brief eye contact. He looks surprised, just as I am. Being the leader of the team, I never let any of my teammates beat me. But no matter how hard I ran, I just wasn't quick as a cat, like the usual me.

          Nonetheless, I watch as Tony goes for his second set. I wipe the sweat from my forehead with my shirt, feeling somewhat frustrated that Melvin beat me. I can't let that happen again. I guess I'll just have to go harder next set. 

          But even worse this time, on my second round up the sand dune, I don't even come second place. Once again, it's Melvin who makes it down the sand dune first, along with our backup point guard, Mateo Vancheli, coming in second, myself third.

          I shake my head internally, trying hard to catch my breath. I even bend down in a squat and lower my head in defeat, feeling my lungs desperate for air. Gosh, I hate losing, but at the same time, there's another part of me that doesn't care. A part of me just wants to get this workout over with so I can eat food. I look over at Coach Meldrum. Again, he just seems so...serious. He still hasn't taken off the sunglasses, and he's just standing there with his hands in his pocket and a stone-cold expression. Weird...he's always so motivated and engaged with us players.

          After completing the gruelling workout, this one harder than I ever remembered, it's assistant Coach Anton who gathers us back up into the circle. Disappointed with myself, yet simultaneously not engaged with my surroundings, I listen as he starts his speech, all of us pouring with sweat.

          "Alright, boys," he says, crossing his arms. "Coach Meldrum is gonna give an important update on the team moving forward." He moves over, allowing Meldrum to take the spotlight like he usually does.

          Still with the sunglasses on, along with that stern look, says, "I have some rather bitter news to share, boys." He pauses for a moment, none of us able to see his eyes. "I'm having some pretty serious things going on in my personal life right now, and I'd like to keep my reasons private. It's meant the world to me coaching you all, but I'm going to be taking a break and leaving the team for a while."

          What? Coach Meldrum leaving? Am I hearing this right?

          "I promise this has nothing to do with the team's struggles," he continues. "I'm going through a lot right now, and I don't think I'm in the best headspace to be leading a team. So, with that being said, Coach Anton is going to be taking over full-time."

          I gasp internally. Coach Anton as head coach? Fuck no. I barely get along with him saying a few words here and there at practice, and now he's taking over full-time as the head coach?

          "Alright," Meldrum says. "It's been a pleasure getting to know you all, and I wish the team nothing but the best. Hopefully, I can make it back by the time the playoffs start."

          Everyone is quiet. Nobody—including me—was expecting this. Like I've said before, Coach Meldrum is the single best coach I've ever played for, and now that he's leaving the team doesn't sit well with me, especially with Coach Anton now being in charge. The expressions on the boys' faces say it all. We're already struggling, and now that our head coach is leaving, this will mess up our chemistry on the court even deeper. Jesus...what's happening to this team? But more importantly, what's happening to me?

          Saddened by the news, we each individually thank Meldrum for all he taught us, both on and off the court. When it's eventually my turn to thank him, he reminds me how talented I am, just like the night after Olive Garden last year when we won the championship. He tells me to keep working hard, and hopes nothing but the best for when in Germany. It's hard to see him go. He really inspired me and brought a new appreciation for basketball, but sadly that's the way things go sometimes. I just hope he's okay with whatever's going on in his life.

          Watching him climb into his black car with that same serious expression, he exits the beach parking lot, and that's the last we see of him. How are we supposed to move forward without him? I just can't imagine us having success with Coach Anton now taking over in his spot. He barely says anything in practice, and the odd times he does, I always roll my eyes internally and disagree with whatever he says. But more than anything, I need to stop beating around the bush and get serious here, considering my own teammates are now beating me in drills I used to dominate.

          I have to find a way to cut back the amount of food I'm consuming.