#17: 92-4

The Dean's office was a place Jason knew would be the last place he'd see. The only time the crusty old professor would summon him would be to fire him. Sports to these people was just some extra-curricula distraction for the students. He often joked with his fellow coaches they were the condiments at a restaurant, something to give extra flavour.
And he was fine with that. He loved basketball. He had no real aspiration to be anything other than a college coach. As jobs went, it was better than everything else he ever thought about doing.
As he walked up the stairs, he realised he was going to miss the mahogany balustrades of the old buildings.
They ushered inside him to find a table with three professors seated. They were watching the celebrations for their last game. The girls had savoured the victory, possibly a little too hard, but it was after he made sure they shook hands with their opponents.
Jason willed them to fire him. He'd already had calls from other schools wanting his winning attitude. Other schools from around the country had made enquiries if he was available next year.
The call from Honolulu was the most exciting. The thought of warm winters thrilled him. No more bleak off seasons. He could learn to surf, or scuba dive.
The panel hearing went in a blur. He answered what questions he could, but did so without deference. His job was to play basketball. And that meant one team had to win. Sometimes it wasn't their week. Sometimes it was. This week it was. There was no difference if the score was 92-4, or 62-61. Defence needed to defend every point.
He would not apologise for doing his job.
With his one week suspension, he'd fly to Hawaii and sign a contract, and maybe find a place to live.