"It's all your mother's fault."

The woman on the battered, beat-up castoff of a couch looked up in surprise. "Rushia, I came asking you why my mojo isn't working. You can't look me in the eye and say with a straight face that it's my mother's fault."

"Listen, which one of us is the shrink, you or me?" Rushia Brown demanded of her client/patient.

"If you want to get technical about it, neither of us is." Adrienne Johnson stared at her erstwhile teammate. "Man, I can't believe you're doing this."

"Yes, but which one of us is actually paying to have this happen?" Rushia countered calmly. "Face it, if one of us is doing something unbelievable, it would be you and not I." She scribbled something on her pad. Adrienne craned her neck to see what it was, but Rushia shook her head. "No looking at my notes, Adrienne, that's terribly improper. Now, when did this inability to perform first come up?"

Adrienne sighed. "The middle of last year, against your damn team. I don't know what happened. I thought I was over the injury, and suddenly I just, you know, couldn't get it up. Everything else was normal, but I just couldn't-" Adrienne broke off in embarrassment, and Rushia patted her hand.

"It's quite all right, you know. It happens to a lot of players- it's not something to be ashamed of. I know several players that it's happened to- correct me if I'm wrong; the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak?"

"Oh, that's exactly the problem. I just keep trying and trying, and it just doesn't get up. Coach says it might be the pressure to perform that's getting me, but that just makes it even harder. I don't know what to do, Rushia. I feel… inadequate, like only half a player. I'm not doing everything I need to do as a player. Is there anything you can do to help me?"

Rushia stroked her chin in thought. "It's hard, AJ. Some of it is most definitely physical, but a good bit of it is in your mind. There is something inside blocking you from doing what you have to do. Adrienne, are you afraid of failure?"

Adrienne shrugged. "I'm not fond of it, but who the hell is? I mean, yeah, I've failed before- I'm not with the Rockers, after all. What are you trying to get at?"

"Forgive me for saying this, old friend, but I think you're using the injury as a crutch, as an excuse for your admitted inadequacy. You're afraid that you're going to fail and not have a reason, and with Taj having missed most of last season you felt the need to become more of a player in her absence. And of course, we must not forget your mother's influence on you, her pressure to make you more than you were in school."

"I knew you were going to find a way to relate this back to my mother. Listen, the Cheryl Miller mentions were all my thing; Mom thought the number was for my baby bro."

"Ah, so you admit conflict."

"Oh, for Chrissake, Rushia, get off that tired old horse, would you? I- I know I have a problem. I just want to solve it. I just want to be a player again!" To Rushia's shock, Adrienne burst into tears and clutched at Rushia, pleading for help.

"AJ, please don't cry. I told you, you're not the only player who's ever suffered from projectile dysfunction. You're strong; you can make it through this. But here. These might give you some help." Rushia extended her hand with several small round objects in it.

"You're giving me Mexican fucking jumping beans? We're talking my career here and you're playing it off like it doesn't even matter."

"It's a jump shot, Adrienne. Trust me. These will help you. Have faith in an old teammate, would you?" Rushia looked so believable that Adrienne took the jumping beans against her better judgement, swallowing them as she left the ramshackle room in the back of the rundown apartment. Rushia leaned back with a smile as she waited for her next patient. "Ah, Rebecca. Good to see you again."