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Quote by Nora Sakavic

“Neil Josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. He didn't want the nicotine, he wanted the acrid smoke that reminded him of his mother. If he inhaled slowly enough, he could almost taste the ghost of gasoline and fire. It was at once revolting and comforting, and it sent a sick shudder down the spine. [...] He glanced up at the sky, but the stars where washed out behind the glare of stadium lights. He wondered - not for the first time - if his mother was looking down at him. He hoped not. She'd beat him to hell and back if she saw him sitting around, moping like this.”

Quote by Nora Sakavic

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The Foxhole Court

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Nora Sakavic

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“Why?" Coach Wymack was quiet for a minute. "Did you think I made the team the way it is because I thought it would be a good publicity stunt? It's about second chances, Neil. Second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you." Neil had heard Wymack referred to as an idealistic idiot by more than one person, but it was hard to listen to him and not believe that he was sincere. Neil was torn between incredulity and disdain. Why Wymack set himself up for disappointment time and time again, Neil didn't know. Neil would have given up on the Foxes years ago.”

“He reached over and picked a ball out of the bucket, turning it over and over his fingers. "Court," Neil whispered, then gave himself a violent shake. He squeezed the ball until his fingers ached, mentally retracing his steps backward. [...] He took it one step and one mile and one day at a time because anything else was too much for him to handle in his grief. Neil stared at the court in front of him and swallowed once, twice, against the nausea that was crawling up his throat. This was why Wymack's contract, Kevin's lofty ambitions, and Andrew's words meant nothing in the end. It didn't matter what they offered or promised him. Neil wasn't like them. He was nothing and no one, and he always would be. Court wasn't for people like him. He'd take what he could learn and enjoy it while he could, but this was a dream he'd have to wake up from eventually. Wanting anything more than that would just make it harder to walk away.”

“Mi fai schifo." "Da che pulpito," ribatté Cathy. "Tu sei una puttana tanto quanto me." Quando si volse Dan afferrò l'orlo della sua maglietta con entrambe le mani, se la tolse in un gesto fluido insieme al reggiseno sportivo e s'indicò il petto nudo. "O mio dio, vedi queste? Si chiamano tette. E' questo che mi rende una puttana? Questo?" Dan fece scattare una mano tra di loro e Cathy si mosse sulla sedia, a disagio. "Questo è quello che faccio. Io mi spoglio. Io ballo. Lavoro su un palco cinque notti la settimana. Ballo la lap dance per dei viscidi che sono incapaci di prendere l'iniziativa da soli. Ma non lascio che mi tocchino e riesco comunque a guadagnare abbastanza da permetterci di restare a galla. Vaffanculo! Ho diciassette anni! Sono troppo giovane per farti da madre!" "Nessuno ti ha mai chiesto di farlo..." "Ma io ti ho chiesto di esserlo per me. Grazie per aver fallito in maniera così spettacolare.”

“It didn't matter how much he liked being Neil Josten. He'd stayed here too long as it was. Neil should be used to this by now. He'd spent the last eight years on the run, spinning lie after lie to leave a twisted trail behind him. Twenty-two names stood between him and the truth, and he knew what would happen if anyone finally connected the dots. Signing with a college team meant more than standing still. It meant he'd be stepping into a spotlight. [...] The math was simple, but that didn't make this any easier. That contract was a one-way ticket to a future, something Neil could never have, and he wanted it so badly he ached. For a blinding moment he hated himself for ever trying out for Millport's team. He'd known better than to step on a court. [...] But what else was he supposed to do? [...] This was the only thing he had left that was real. Now that he'd had a taste of it again, he didn't know how to walk away from it.”

“After a moment's debate, Neil shrugged his bag off his shoulder. The thought of leaving it behind made his skin crawl, considering what was hidden inside it, but he didn't trust Andrew's intentions. [...] "Do you have someplace safe I can hide this?" he asked. [...] Wymack looked ad Neil again. "How safe is safe?" Neil had never been an easy read before, but then, he'd never let the situation get so completely out of hand, either. [...] Neil had fumbled his way through his transition to Millport, but he could have cut and run at any time if he didn't like the way things were going. This, he desperately wanted to make work, for however long he could hold onto it. "It's all I have," Neil said [...]. Neil looked down at the key in his palm, at the security Wymack so easily and unquestioningly gave him. Maybe Neil wouldn't get any sleep tonight, and maybe he'd spend the next couple weeks waking up every time Wymack snored a little too loud, but maybe Neil really was okay here for now. "Thank you," he said. "Move along," Wymack said.”

“It's not the end of the world if we lose," Francis said. "Don't lose sleep over it." She hated that about him - his willingness to accept a loss before it had even happened. It was his way of consoling his team, she guessed: he believed it was better to expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised than to be crushed by an unexpected loss. Dan thought a coach had no right to be so pessimistic. She didn't want a coach who softened the blow. She wanted a coach who believed in the impossible. "I can't afford to lose," she told him. "I need to make it to finals if I'm to catch a recruiter's eye." "Danielle, I need you to understand something." "I'm good," Dan insisted. "I'm more than good enough to make the cut." "You're very talented..." "Don't patronize me, Coach." "You're amazing," he said, "but it's not enough to be good. You're a girl." "That means nothing." "That means everything. Maybe it's not fair, but it's a fact. Men are faster and stronger. They can hit harder and throw further. Nothing you do can change that bias. If a coach can choose between a man and a woman, he will choose the man every time." "There are plenty of women playing for college teams." "I didn't say there aren't women," Francis said. "I'm saying they're the exception.”

“Non è mica la fine del mondo se perdiamo," disse Francis. "Non perderci il sonno." Era questo ciò che odiava di lui - il suo accettare la sconfitta ancora prima che fosse avvenuta. Era il suo modo di consolare il team, supponeva: lui era convinto fosse meglio aspettarsi il peggio e rimanere piacevolmente sorpresi piuttosto che rimanere devastati da una sconfitta inaspettata. Dan pensava che un allenatore non avesse alcun diritto di essere così pessimista. Lei non voleva un allenatore in grado di indorarle la pillola. Ne voleva uno che credesse nell'impossibile. "Non posso permettermi di perdere," gli disse Dan. "Devo arrivare alle finali se spero di attirare l'attenzione di un reclutatore." "Danielle, voglio che tu comprenda una cosa." "Io sono brava," insistette Dan. "Lo sono abbastanza da superare la selezione." "Tu hai molto talento..." "Non sia condiscendente con me, Coach." "Tu sei straordinaria," le disse, "ma essere bravi non è sufficiente. Tu sei una ragazza." "Non significa niente." "Significa tutto, invece. Forse non è giusto, ma così stanno le cose. Gli uomini sono più veloci e hanno più forza. Possono colpire più duramente e lanciare più lontano. E nulla potrà cambiare questo pregiudizio. Se un allenatore fosse costretto a scegliere tra un uomo e una donna, sceglierebbe sempre l'uomo." "Ci sono diverse donne che giocano in squadre universitarie." "Non ho detto che non ci sono," obiettò Francis. "Ho detto che loro sono l'eccezione.”