Eternal Ephemerals

Lead

The echo of bouncing basketballs filled the gym, sharp and rhythmic, blending with the steady hum of shoes squeaking on the court. Practice had just started, but Jayden could already feel the weight of it settling into his chest—the dull ache of disappointment he hadn't quite shaken off since yesterday. He stood at the three-point line, idly dribbling the ball, his gaze drifting toward Ryan on the other side of the court.

Ryan—the new team captain.

It should've been me. The thought had been running in circles through Jayden's mind since Coach had announced the decision. He and Ryan were both seniors. Both starters. Both played equally well. They'd grown up playing on the same team since middle school, pushing each other, competing, always neck and neck when it came to skills, stats, and leadership.

So why Ryan? Why him?

Jayden stared at Ryan, watching as his friend smiled and clapped a hand on one of the freshmen's shoulders, giving him pointers on positioning. Ryan was already stepping into his new role, leading the warm-ups, guiding the newer players, being exactly what the team needed from a captain.

Jayden's fingers gripped the ball a little tighter. It wasn't that he didn't like Ryan. Ryan was one of his closest friends, the kind of guy who'd always have your back, on and off the court. But that's what made it harder—knowing that they were so similar, so evenly matched. He didn't understand why Coach had chosen him over Jayden.

They both had the same stats. They both played their hearts out. So why wasn't it Jayden's name being called out as captain? Why wasn't it Jayden who the team was looking up to now?

"Jay!" Coach's voice snapped through the gym, jolting him from his thoughts. "Let's run that play again, and this time focus on the assist."

Jayden nodded, barely hearing the rest of Coach's instructions. He tried to shake the frustration, tried to get his head back in the game. It wasn't like him to dwell on things. Normally, he was the calm one, the focused one. But today, every pass, every movement felt just a little off, like the pressure in his chest was making his limbs heavy.

They started the drill again. Jayden moved down the court, his mind still stuck on Ryan, still stuck on the why of it all. He played hard, pushing himself through the drill with an intensity that felt more like frustration than focus.

And then it happened.

One of the freshmen—Dylan, or maybe Devon, he couldn't remember—fumbled the pass. Jayden had been open, perfectly positioned for an easy layup, but the kid didn't see him. Instead, he hesitated and tried to take the shot himself, missing completely. The ball bounced off the rim, and the moment passed.

Jayden felt something snap inside him.

"Come on!" he yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration. "I was wide open! You can't just take the shot yourself when there's an easy assist right there!"

His voice echoed through the gym, louder than he'd meant it to be, sharper than it should've been. The freshman froze, wide-eyed, clearly taken aback. Jayden saw the way the kid's shoulders slumped, the way his face flushed with embarrassment. Immediately, guilt clawed at his chest, but the frustration still simmered, too hot to push down.

Before Jayden could say anything else, Ryan was there.

"Hey," Ryan called out, jogging over to the freshman. His tone was calm, steady. "It's all good. We're here to learn, right? Just keep your head up and look for the pass next time, okay?"

The freshman nodded quickly, relieved to be off the hook, and Ryan gave him a quick pat on the back before turning back to Jayden.

"Chill, man," Ryan said quietly, just loud enough for Jayden to hear. "He's just starting out. Give him time."

Jayden swallowed, the weight of Ryan's words sinking in, but they didn't feel like enough. Give him time? How was that supposed to help the team win? They needed to be sharp. They needed to be focused. Jayden opened his mouth to argue, to say something, but the words caught in his throat.

Ryan was already moving back down the court, calling out the next play, keeping the team moving, keeping the energy positive.

And Jayden just stood there, the ball still in his hands, the frustration slowly draining out of him as something else settled in its place. He watched Ryan handle the situation with ease—calm, collected, and encouraging—and suddenly, it hit him.

That's why.

The realization crept up on him, slow and undeniable. It wasn't about who played better. It wasn't about stats, or skill, or who knew the playbook inside and out. It was about something deeper than that. Something Jayden had been missing.

Ryan knew how to lead in a way that Jayden hadn't learned yet. Jayden was competitive, driven, always pushing for the win. But Ryan... Ryan understood that leadership wasn't just about who was the best player. It was about who made everyone else better.

Jayden's mind flashed back to every time he'd let his frustration boil over in practice—whether it was a bad pass, a missed shot, or someone not moving fast enough. He always expected more from his teammates because he expected more from himself. But Ryan—Ryan knew how to pull people up without pushing them down. He knew how to give people space to make mistakes, to learn from them, and to grow.

That's why.

It wasn't about who was the better player. It was about who was the better captain.

Jayden swallowed hard, the taste of his earlier frustration still bitter in his mouth. He wasn't used to feeling like this—like maybe he wasn't the best for the job, like maybe there was something more he had to learn. But as much as it stung, the truth was there, staring him in the face.

Ryan was the right choice.

It didn't make the disappointment go away. It didn't make the knot in Jayden's chest unravel completely. But it softened something inside him, gave him space to breathe, to think. Maybe it wasn't about why he hadn't been chosen. Maybe it was about what he needed to learn from it.

The whistle blew, signaling the end of practice, and Jayden wiped the sweat from his forehead, exhaling slowly. As the team gathered their things, Ryan jogged over to him, that familiar easy smile on his face.

"Hey, man, you good?" Ryan asked, his voice light but with just enough concern for Jayden to feel it.

Jayden nodded, feeling the weight of his earlier frustration lift, just a little. "Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now. "I'm good."

Ryan clapped him on the back, not pushing for more, just accepting the answer. "Cool. Wanna grab food after this?"

Jayden smiled faintly, nodding again. "Yeah, sounds good."

As they walked off the court together, the air between them felt lighter, easier. And for the first time since Coach had made the announcement, Jayden felt like he could breathe again. He hadn't been chosen as captain, but maybe that didn't matter as much as he'd thought. Maybe, just maybe, this was about more than just basketball.

Maybe this was about learning what it truly meant to lead.