In the Sidelines » Damian Lillard

20.

I NEVER HAD the chance to talk to Damian until after the team's next game, and I quickly regretted it. Once again, he played like a middle schooler performing against a varsity high school team. He was doing so badly, in fact, that the coach had to bench him.

Thankfully, since the Blazers were playing at home today, I knew I would have the opportunity to speak to him after the game.

Once the final horn rang and the disappointed fans left after their team's loss, I stood up and pulled out my phone. I texted Damian to meet me in the halls once he was changed and walked into the tunnel.

As I was about to turn the corner to where I was planning to wait, I heard an unfamiliar voice mention my name in the same way a kindergartener said the word 'vegetables'. I stopped to overhear what they had to say about me.

"Did you hear Lillard's interview after they lost tonight? Someone asked if the rumors with Arabel Deaton were causing him to be off his game. Of course, he said no. It's good to know our franchise point guard is both a liar and terrible at basketball," the person chuckled. Even though I didn't know who this person was, his abrasive voice made my blood boil.

I peeked around the corner and saw two men with their backs facing me. One was older and the other was around my age. I figured them to be writers of some sort, judging from the laptops in their hand.

"They should fire her now," replied the younger male. "I mean, I've been campaigning for her to get fired ever since she was hired. But after the rumors that she's dating a player, that should be enough to convince them that a woman shouldn't be doing a man's job." While the comment made both of them chuckle loudly, I hadn't felt this hurt in a long time.

I curled my fists into a ball. I was barely able to stop myself from marching up to the idiots and punching them right there.

"That's right. She's just distracting Lillard, and there are no signs she knows a damn thing about running this organization. Why did they even think hiring her would be a good idea in the first place?" the first man asked.

"Eye candy, probably. But if they thought she worked as eye candy, they need to check their eyes." Every time the men laughed at the degrading slight, I felt my heart sink lower into my stomach.

"Before I forget, what is your article for tomorrow about?"

There was some shuffling and a click as the younger man opened up his laptop. "Want to take a wild guess?" The second man cleared his throat before speaking in a mocking tone.

"'Surprise, surprise. Hiring Arabel Deaton has been as much of a train wreck as expected. How can the Blazers be fine with having an owner like her? She can't do her job, and it's obvious owning a team is not meant for her. Damian Lillard is slumping, the Blazers are on a losing streak at a time they are desperately fighting for wins, and their new minority owner is much to blame.'"

The younger man continued to read his work. If I hadn't been the target of his barrage of insults, I would have nearly been impressed with how many negative things he packed into each paragraph.

"Look here. This is my favorite part," he said with a jeer. "'It's April already; it's been nearly nine months since she was hired last offseason. Hello, Trail Blazers? Fire her already! She's done more bad than good for this team.'"

Their voices began to fade as they walked away, but the first man's final insult felt like a slap to the face. "You know what? I'm gonna go right up to Paul Allen, look him straight in the eyes, and say that hiring Arabel Deaton was the worst decision he's made in his life."

I bit the inside of my cheek and took a shaky breath. It felt like the life had been sucked out of me by their insensitive comments.

I had seen similar insults online, on the radio, and on the news. Because of Damian's poor play recently, people had begun a trend of pointing their fingers at me more.