Her Courtside Dream

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I spent a good chunk of time at the library, reading up on everything I could about Jordan Rivers. Turns out, he wasn't just any athlete on the track and field team. He was the athlete. Top sprinter.

He'd won the 200-meter dash at regionals last year and even qualified for nationals. I couldn't believe I didn't know more about him before—he was a huge deal, but then again, I wasn't exactly the type of person who kept tabs on track and field.

Still, with everything I'd read, it was clear Jordan had done a lot for the team. I could only imagine how devastating it must be for them to lose their top guy before the season. My stomach twisted at the thought. Writing about someone's injury was not on my list of reasons before joining the school paper—especially not when the whole thing felt so tragic.

I took a deep breath and opened my notebook, jotting down the facts I had so far. Then, I wrote down the real question: What caused the injury? That was the angle, the hook I needed. It wasn't just that Jordan was injured; it was how and why.

The clock on the wall kept ticking, reminding me that I couldn't sit here all day mulling over it. I still needed to meet with Coach Bowers, and hopefully, he'd fill in some blanks for me.

On my way out of the library, I pulled my jacket tighter around myself. The air outside was cooler than expected with the fall breeze picking up. The leaves were already turning shades of orange and gold, fluttering down as I walked across campus toward Coach Bowers' office.

The path to the athletics office was quiet, the usual buzz of students drowned out by the rustle of leaves and the far-off sound of someone practicing their trumpet in one of the music halls. I passed by a few track team members jogging around the field, their breath visible in the crisp air, and wondered how they were coping without their star sprinter.

Coach Bowers' office smelled faintly of leather and coffee, with walls lined with old photos of the track team, and trophies stacked on a dusty shelf in the corner. He sat behind his desk, looking like the weight of the world had been dropped on his shoulders.

"Kali Matthews, right?" he greeted me, standing up and shaking my hand. His grip was firm but distracted, his eyes already darting to the window before I even sat down.

"Yes, thanks for taking the time to meet with me. I wanted to ask you about Jordan Rivers. I've heard bits and pieces about his injury, but I was hoping to get the full story from you."

Coach Bowers sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, Jordan... It was a freak accident, really. He was practicing his sprints last Saturday when something went wrong with the starting blocks we were using."

He paused for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "Those blocks were provided by the school—brand new, actually—but they malfunctioned during one of his starts. He got off balance, and when he tried to recover, his leg just gave out. Hamstring tore right then and there."

I felt a pang of sympathy. A hamstring injury wasn't just painful—it could sideline an athlete for months, maybe longer.

"That's awful. Has the school said anything about it? Like, are they going to replace the equipment?"

Coach Bowers scoffed, his lips thinning into a tight line. "You know how it is—budget cuts, athletic department politics. We've been asking for better gear for a while now, but we keep getting the runaround. And now look what happened. It's ridiculous."

I could tell he was angry—understandably so. This wasn't just a freak accident; it was preventable. I felt my chest tightened a little. Jordan could have been fine if someone had just listened.

But now, here we were, with him in the hospital because someone didn't want to cough up the cash for decent equipment. It felt like more than just a story; it felt... personal. Like, unfair on a level that made my skin crawl.