“Hmmm.” The thoughtful pause cautioned Bernie to not award Rex the touch too soon. Coach Dan scratched his black beard with his right hand, the left controlling the steering wheel. “I believe,” he continued, “that you are comparing the aggregate skill of this year’s fencing team, to the cohesiveness of the team when Miles was captain.”
Bernie looked over at Rex, who blinked in confusion. Attack right is off-target.
“Two years ago, we had one start — Miles — and a bunch of kids who, quite frankly, struggled a lot.”
Rex quickly agreed, preparation left, retreat right. “We don’t have a Miles now, no star, but the skill and confidence of the rest of the team, even Kassie and Butch, is a lot higher than it was then.”
“Like I said, we’re stronger.” Advance lunge from the right.
“Individually, yes.” Attack is parried. “In skill level, yes. But — you were there for the tournament at Midland last fall, right?”
Bernie shook his head, then remembered Coach Dan was addressing Rex, who nodded.