By Lisa Timpf
During pregame warmups for the 2035 semifinals, my players couldn’t miss the basket. Shot after shot went up, then swished through the net. That might have made some coaches happy, but I’d seen too many teams have a great warmup and then come out flat.
Besides, I worried about our star player, Jake. Ever since Christmas break, he’d seemed more—fragile. Not physically, but emotionally. Anything that smacked of criticism put him on the verge of tears. On the court, though, he demonstrated the natural creativity of his freshman year. I couldn’t figure out what was up with him.
But this was his senior year, and his last kick at the can. Mine, too. I planned to retire. The game was changing too much, and promised to change more in the future. Analytics. Biomechanical assist devices, next, I’d heard.
I glanced toward the stands where Amelie, Jake’s girlfriend, sat. I rarely got close to the players’ girlfriends and didn’t think I’d mesh with Amelie. Her studies in the Future of Sports stream ran contradictory to my traditionalist bent.
As I stared upward, a thought occurred to me. Maybe Amelie had something to do with Jake’s change in behavior.
I shook my head. Time for that later. I had a game to focus on.
This annual collegiate tournament is called March Madness for a reason. Anything could and would happen. And we, the top seed, were no exception. It took a three-pointer from Jake at the buzzer to secure the win.
“Great game, Coach.”
I recognized Melvin Jonesmith’s voice. Melvin was a Future of Sports prof, and a huge basketball fan.
“Thanks.” Maybe Melvin could shed some light on Jake’s relationship. “Hey, what can you tell me about Amelie?”
Melvin cocked his head. “She’s off-the-charts smart. And she and Jake have real chemistry. Though… he used to come around to hang out with her while she checked on her thesis project. But he hasn’t for a while. Is that what you’re wondering about?”
“When did things change?”
“After Christmas break.”
I nodded curtly and searched for Amelie. I found her outside the locker room.
“We need to talk.” I gestured down the hall to my personal office—one of the perks of hosting the Final Four.
She crossed her arms and looked away. “I need to be here when he comes out.”
“What? Is he three years old?”
“Sort of.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
She glanced around, making sure nobody could overhear. “Something—happened—over Christmas break. It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
Amelie mumbled her next words. “He was only meant to be a companion for Jake.”
“Who?”
“Jake Two.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“In the bio-tanks, we’re experimenting with regenerated flesh—you know, to speed up healing from abrasions and such. For my thesis project, I wanted to do something special. I was experimenting with different ideas, using Jake’s DNA. Then, that night of the electrical storm, the power surge…” She shrugged. “It gets technical from there.”
“You’re telling me you cloned your boyfriend?”
“In short, yes.” Amelie gazed off into space. “Jake really liked him. Treated him like a little brother. Jake Two had all of Jake’s basketball talent, too. And lots of time to practice.”
“What happened during Christmas break?”
“We went hiking in the nature preserve. Jake got too close to the edge at Notting Cliff.” She bit her lip and avoided eye contact. “Fell over, clowning around.”
“You didn’t report it?”
Amelie scoffed. “DNA would show Jake Two to be Jake. Who would’ve believed me?”
I stumbled backward, and took a beat to process Amelie’s revelations. “I’m not sure he should play in the final, now that I know.”
“It’d break him.” She stepped forward, hands spread out. “His body is more advanced than his emotions, if you know what I mean.”
I did know. That made my decision harder.
Still, Jake Two wasn’t the Jake we’d recruited. It all felt—wrong. Possibly illegal.
Just before the final, I pulled my star player aside. I planned to bench him, and he deserved the truth. Especially if the news would upend his life.
I hesitated. Jake Two sure looked like Jake. The hair. The eyes. The diffident stance.
And his expression—he seemed as eager as a kid on Christmas morning.
I scanned the expectant crowd, noting the university president among them. How could I let them—and Jake Two—down?
“Have a good game.” I patted Jake Two on the shoulder and turned away.
Jake Two didn’t just have a good game. He had a great one. We won the title, thanks to him. I viewed the victory as a tribute to the original Jake and had to wipe my eyes after. I blamed the waterworks on the gym’s dry air.
After the team cut down the net—a ritual after winning a championship game—Jake Two limped over, pretending he’d hurt his knee. So that’s how he and Amelie were playing it. He couldn’t go on to a pro career. He wouldn’t be able to hack it there, given his fragile emotional state.
Amelie sidled up to me. “I just wanted to say—thanks.”
“What’re you going to do now?”
“I can’t use him for my thesis project. It’d jeopardize the title, not to mention the… legal ramifications. And to be honest, I’ve kind of let my studies go after what happened during Christmas break. We’ll stay in town. We should both be able to find work around here. And you?”
“This’s my last year. I’m retiring.”
“With the championship title.”
“It’ll always have an asterisk beside it in my books.”
“You did the right thing.”
Amelie’s words have haunted me since. Did I do the right thing?
Our opponents might say no.
Still, if you’d seen the look on Jake Two’s face before the final game, I’m not sure you could’ve benched him, either.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Great thought-provoking story! Sometimes the best thing and the right thing aren’t the same.
Unfortunate situation with lifelong consequences. I wonder if the truth will ever come to light…
Fascinating idea! Well done!