My mother and father sit before the screen of my laptop.

          "So, are you keeping the house nice and tidy while we are gone?" she asks.

          I chuckle. "Of course. Been dusting and sweeping the place every other day." It's true. I like living in a clean household. Piles of mess and garbage always give me a weird sense of anxiety.

          "And what about the property?" my dad follows up. "Are you remembering to cut the lawn once a week and do the hedges?"

          "Yes, dad. I told you the twentieth time you asked."

          We both laugh.

          "We'll be depositing a cheque into the bank today," my mother explains. 

          It's crazy how you can do your banking from across the other side of the world these days.

          "Sounds good," I reply.

          "What are your plans for the rest of the day?" dad asks.

          "Meldrum wants us to hit the weight room for an hour today. But first I have to drop my paper off to Mr. Ramen, my professor. Because of the hectic basketball schedule, he extended my due date, so I can't afford to miss him." While being so involved in sports, it's not easy to stay on top of academics. But I have to grind hard and get it done, if I want to play the sport I love for a career.

          "That's kind of him," my mother acknowledges. As usual, she's looking like she wants to wrap things up.

          "Well, we'll let you go," my dad says. "Take care and keep working hard, son. Your life-long dream of playing professional ball is right around the corner."

          After saying our goodbyes and loves, I end the Zoom call. 

          Getting my gear packed in a bag, along with my assignment and water bottle, I make my way downstairs into the garage of the house. Originally, I was about to hop in the car, but I can use a little extra exercise by riding my pedal bike. It's sunny outside, and winter is just around the corner, so I might as well take advantage of a nice day when I can.

          I lock the house door and take off for school, which shouldn't be any longer than twenty minutes. I switch gears on the bike, cruising down a small hill. I'm thinking about what I'll make for dinner. I've been eating out a lot more lately, so I I'm trying to cut back on my spending money. Gosh, I could really go for tacos. I'll cook some beef and stuff my face with salsa, cheese, sour cream, and guacamole. Christ, just the thought is making me want nightfall to come, so I can devour them with erotic passion. Okay...that was a bit extreme.

          As usual, I'm recognized by a few students when I arrive on campus. Cutting through the baseball diamond parking lot, I make my way over to Mr. Ramen's classroom on the second floor of the common building. I lock my bike at the closest stand, then enter and jog up the stairs. This is one of my favourite areas on campus, stretching back into the remote forest.

          "Hello, Declan," Mr. Ramen welcomes as I enter his empty classroom. "I take it you're here to drop off your paper?"

          I nod. "Absolutely. Thank you so much for the extension."

          "No problem," he replies, accepting the sheet. "I understand that academics can be difficult to maintain when you're so focused athletically."

          "Yup. They sure can."

          "So, how's the team doing?"

          I pause. "Well, we lost our home opener, but we have another game against Pamberton in a few days to bounce back."

          "That's nice. And how is everything going overall? Obviously, I can't keep in contact with every single student I teach, but I like to know how people are handling the pressure, or if they have any concerns around class."

          "I'm great, thanks," I reply honestly. "I can truthfully say I'm in a happy place."

          He smiles. "That's good."

          After a moment of silence, I say, "Anyway, I best get going. Coach wants us in the weight room today for a solid lift."

          "Sounds good, Declan. I'll see you tomorrow for class."

          "Will do." With that, I make my way back down the building to my bike locked up outside.

          When I arrive, I once again lock up my bike, and enter the side door of the gym to the weight room. Just like always, the boys have rap music playing, getting us hyped up and ready for the workout. By the looks of it, it seems like Coach Meldrum and Assistant Coach Anton will be joining us. As I mentioned before, Meldrum might be older now, but he's still the real deal when it comes to this basketball life. 

          After a few minutes of talking, Coach Meldrum says he wants us running specific routines.

          "Okay," he directs, pointing to the right side of the weight room. "Over here we're gonna be doing sets of three by ten. I want us doing lunges and squats to engage our lower body and core. And over on the left, we'll be using the bench press and chin-up bar. We have exactly one hour in here until the girls' volleyball team arrives, so we gotta make the most of it."

          "Shit, I wanna work out with them," Tony jokes, and we all laugh.

          Sarcasm aside, we get down to business and work hard. As a team, we don't spend too much time in the weight room. We focus more on our speed and agility, than strength and power. But it's still important to get a lift in here and there. Naturally, I gravitate over towards the dumbbells so I can squat. Tony follows, asking if I can spot and let him.

          But I'm not the only one noticing my larger frame these days.

          "Damn, bro," he says, watching me take off my shirt. "I didn't know it was bulking season."

          We both laugh, getting into position. I notice in the mirror though he's certainly right. My pectoral muscles, usually cut back and solid, are now looking bigger, but not muscular like before. I also notice that my neckline is continuing to look slightly heavier. But honestly, I don't see anything wrong with gaining a few pounds here and there. It might actually do good for my game. Maybe this way I can muscle my way to the basket, overpowering players that were my same size prior.

          Stepping back and forth, doing ten reps on each leg, Tony and I switch, me now squatting and him doing lunges. I make sure to keep my back straight as possible, which I admittedly have struggled with in the past. So I lean myself up against the wall when doing the exercises, really making sure to engage my core with every rep.

          Gradually, Tony and I make our way over to the opposite side of the weight room, to complete the bench press and chin-up exercises. Once again, I make sure to spot him with the bench press, standing behind. Tony is definitely on the skinnier side, but can't let that fool you. He's strong like a raging bull, charging towards a red cape. Including the weight of the bar, he has two plates locked on either side, pushing himself hard, and I respect that.

          Once he finishes, we give each other high-fives and switch, me laying back down on the bench and getting ready. I request that Tony take off a half plate. Yes, I can beat him on the court with my speed and jump shots, but I have no problem admitting that he's stronger than me, at least at this point in our careers. I begin lifting the bar up and down from my chest, taking deep breaths with every exhalation. I can really feel my pectoral muscles being used—the same ones I noticed are slightly sagging.

          With about only fifteen minutes left before our time in the weight room is up, Tony and I make our way over to the chin-up bar. This time, I go first, placing some white chalk on my hands for grip, and hop up to the bar. I start pulling my body weight up and down, always crossing my legs for balance. I feel the muscles in my biceps flexing and tugging with every lift. I make sure to get my chin fully over the bar with each rep, never cutting corners and taking the easy route. All the all-time greats would tell you the same thing.

          However, getting further into my set, with four chin-ups left to go, I start feeling the energy in my body dying. This is rather strange, considering ten reps in the past was like taking candy away from a baby for me. Towards the end, I start to shake and even slow down, to the point I'm not sure if I'll get my chin over the bar for the final rep. 

          Eventually, I'm able to complete the set, but with rather difficulty. Tony notices my struggles, too.

          "What's up, bro?" he asks innocently. "I've seen you do that before in your sleep."

          "I know," I reply, wiping the chalk off my hands. "I don't know what's up with me."

          "Maybe you're just having an off day?" he suggests.

          Yeah, but I told myself the same thing against our loss to Notre Dame, I think to myself internally.

          "Yeah, you're probably right," I admit, once again playing it off.

          With that, after Tony does his set, making it look easy, Coach Meldrum wraps up our workout. The girls are now making their way into the weight room. Lots of the guys are checking them out in their spandex shorts, but I got myself a girlfriend, so I can't be doing that shit. If I'm being honest, I'm slightly in my head, wondering how such a basic exercise could be challenging for me. As Tony said, I would do ten reps of chin-ups in the past with no problem, but today it was slightly difficult.

          I guess I have to pay more attention to that stuff in the future.