Conceived Without Sin (39 page)

Bill's feet were behind the line. He began to jump and release the ball with his patented quick-release, all in one fluid motion, his elbow in, his shoulders facing the basket–perfect form…

…He's going to make it,
Sam thought…

…as Dante took a long step past Sam and left his feet, extending his long, tanned arm toward the ball as Bill released it, reminding Buzz of a ski jumper in
the Olympics…

…Dante nicked the ball with one slender finger…

"Piece!" Bill hollered at the top of his lungs, letting Sam, the Man, and the helpless Mark know that Dante had gotten a "piece" of his shot, and that it would therefore miss badly.

Sam found himself blocked out. Buzz stood his ground, remembering his responsibility to stop the fast break, which was now likely. The Man was too far from
the basket to hope for a rebound…

…and Mark Johnson awkwardly leapt from his one good leg with herculean strength, letting out a roar of pain heard in the highest seat in the house; he found a seam between two bodies and slipped through it. He batted the ball away from the Infernos defender…

…toward Buzz, who suddenly was completely aware that he was standing in his favorite spot…

…just as Dante
Curry began rushing toward him from the left side…

"Practice," Buzz whispered to himself, focusing only at the impossibly far-away rim, as he cocked his one-hander and released it, willing himself not to think about the blur of Italian lightning streaking toward him…

…and Mark Johnson continued to scream as he landed on his bad knee, the pain echoing up his leg like a hot ice pick being driven
into a tree trunk…

…Sam watched the ball…The crowd watched the ball…Donna, Bill, the Man, Ellie…Dante and his Infernos watched the ball–

–as it zipped through the hoop with a snap.

Buzz already had his hands up in the air. Two points.

Scaps 42. Infernos 41.

Chapter Sixteen

1

After the winning shot, Donna sprinted onto the court and jumped on Buzz, nearly knocking him over, reminding a few old-timers in the crowd of Yogi Berra jumping onto Don Larsen after the only perfect game in World Series history.

"We won! We won!" she cried.

"I know! We did it!" Buzz laughed, holding her up with one arm, her hands around his neck, holding his other hand in the
air, as Dante's dejected Infernos, doused by defeat, strode by them.

Then Buzz saw Mark, still on the floor in pain, and he lowered his fist, and let Donna down to her feet.

"Donna, Mark's hurt real bad."

She turned to look, and along with Buzz, hurried over to crouch next to the warrior. Others gathered around.

Dante Curry was already examining Mark's injured knee, pressing it here and there,
asking Mark questions.

"He's a doctor," someone said.

"I hope it was worth it," the Man said to no one in particular.

Mark heard the Man and smiled.

"It was worth it." Then he looked at Buzz. "Because you hit that shot, my friend. I just knew you would. Hoorah."

Having picked her way down the stands, Maggie rushed up to the scene. She pursed her lips and shook her head, her hands on her hips.

"I'm afraid you're going to need surgery, my friend," Dante whispered, but Maggie heard him.

"So the tough guy's going to the hospital, eh?" Maggie asked.

He grinned sheepishly. "We won, didn't we?"

"Yes you did. Nice play," she replied, trying to hide a smile. "You'll be getting plenty of couch time in over the next few days, I suspect."

The players who heard her couldn't translate the strange
code between husband and wife–with the exception of Bill White.

Bill knew she was proud of her husband.

Mark struggled to his feet, and leaning on Dante and Sam, limped back to the bench.

"Well," Bill said to Buzz, watching Mark from the foul line. "Maybe right now you could beat him in a wrestling match."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Ellie said, echoing Buzz's thoughts exactly.

Mark called from the
bench. "Party's still at my house! I'll come by after I go to the Emergency Room!"

Suddenly Buzz saw a sharply dressed News Five reporter walking toward him with a cameraman in tow.

"Is that camera rolling?" Buzz asked.

"In just a few seconds," the reporter, Wendy Swedenborg told him.

"Good, then ask me if I'm going to Disneyland like after the Super Bowl and all," Buzz directed her.

Wendy gave
him a skeptical look.

"Go ahead, ask me," Buzz said with an angelic smile.

"Camera's rolling," the cameraman said. "Three, two, one…"

"I'm standing here with Buzz Woodward, hero of this year's Revco Ten Thousand championship team. So tell me, Mr. Woodward, do you have any travel plans for after the game? Disneyland?"

"Disneyland? Heck no, lady! I'm going to Fatima!" Buzz shouted, followed by a
rebel yell. He turned and gave Donna a convincing but phony hug.

Wendy rolled her eyes.
That's not going on the news,
she thought. She hated these cheesy assignments.
They should have sent the sportscaster.

She motioned for the cameraman to cut the tape.

Buzz read her thoughts. "Look, I made a lucky shot, Miss Schmorgenborg. By the way, I don't watch television much, so I don't know who you are,
but I'm sure you're good at what you do. If you want a real interview, talk to my friends Donna and Bill here. When it comes down to it, they won the thing for us."

Ellie, who was happy she decided not to paint her face with brown lipstick, stood in the background with Buzz with her arm around his shoulder while Wendy interviewed Donna and Bill together. She waved and mouthed, "Hi Bucky!"

A few
hours later, fourteen whole seconds of the five minute interview made it on the air, to the cheers of the party crowd at Mark Johnson's house.

It was Donna, who was quoted speaking with perfect aplomb. "I knew Buzz would make that shot. He practiced it five hundred times this morning. He wanted to win it so we could go to Fatima together with the prize money." Her quote had been preceded by a
replay of Buzz's long bomb.

The sportscaster followed her sound bite with a smirk.

"Fatima? Isn't that in Saudi Arabia?"

Fake laughter from the ditsy anchor woman followed his quip. He cleared his throat.

"Proceeds from the Revco Ten Thousand go to the Rainbow Babies and Childrens Hospital…"

2

Sam walked up to Buzz and Ellie as they stood next to the Weber grill in Mark's backyard. Sam put an
arm around Ellie's shoulder.

"Tell me something, Buzz," Sam inquired.

"Yeah?"

"What were you thinking when you took the big shot?"

"You know how it is. I had a split second to prepare before the ball came to me, and I didn't want to think about how big a shot it was, so, I made believe I was alone, practicing the shot with no pressure on me."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing, Buzz. I was
thinking about you practicing from that spot this morning."

"Really?" Ellie asked. After Mass, she had come to Buzz and Sam's second practice session. "I thought Dante was going to block it."

"I knew he was there," Buzz explained. "But I didn't want to think about him."

Sam glanced back to the house. Through the bay window, he saw Dante sitting on a chair next to Mark, who had a temporary cast
on his knee. The surgery was already scheduled for a few days hence, after the swelling subsided.

Donna was with them, gesticulating enthusiastically.

"We might lose our secret weapon, Donna Beck, to the Infernos next year. Did you know she knew Dante back in Little Italy?" Buzz asked.

"Really? So that's how she knew how to outsmart him. Is that a coincidence, or does that count as a signal grace?"
Sam asked in reply.

His speech was slightly slurred. He was working on his seventh Bud Light. He was a lightweight.

"I dunno," Buzz replied honestly.

"Because I prayed for it," Sam explained, wondering why he was bringing up the subject. "And it came true."

"What came true?" Ellie asked.

"Buzz's shot went in," Sam explained matter-of-factly.

Wow,
Buzz thought.

"Now that's different, Sam," Buzz
said, showing his surprise on his face. Ellie looked up at Sam.

"Yes," Sam continued. "I was sitting next to Ellie at Mass this morning, thinking about the game while everyone was going up to get Communion. Then I saw people coming back, kneeling down, praying. Everyone seemed to have something to pray about. Do you people say special prayers? I asked myself. I didn't know.

"So I figured I might
as well pray for something. I bowed my head and closed my eyes. I was sitting, not kneeling."

Sam raised the bottle in his free hand and wiped away a mosquito on his forehead with the back of his hand. "And I tried to think of something nice to pray for. I thought about you, and how I was sitting in a church because of you, with this beautiful lady at my side, one week before my wedding…"

Sam
trailed off. Completely out of character, he leaned over and gave Ellie a kiss on the lips.

"Sam!" she grimaced. "You smell like beer!"

"And?" Buzz prompted.

"Oh, yeah," Sam replied. "So I tried thinking about something nice for you. So I prayed, 'Dear God, if you're up there, or in there–" Sam was referring to the tabernacle "–please let Buzz hit the winning shot from his spot."

Sam ended by
bringing his chin down to stifle a burp. He really was in his cups.

"So does that count as a signal grace?" he asked again, both eyebrows raised.

Buzz and Ellie were both speechless.

"What's a signal grace?" Ellie asked.

"According to Buzz, it's like a road sign from God, telling you you're on the right track," Sam said. "So, does it count?"

"I don't know. It sure is an answer to a prayer. I'm
touched, Sam. I really am. I've never made a big shot like that in my whole life." There was real emotion in Buzz's voice.

"I've seen you sink game winners on the Rocky River courts," Ellie offered.

"Yeah!" Sam said loudly.

"That doesn't count," Buzz said modestly. "I like taking the big shot on the courts, but this game was different. It really mattered."

"I disagree, Buzz," Ellie said. "It all
matters. You've been practicing game winners all summer. Mark has been a competitor his whole life. Bill White has been shooting well for weeks. The Man was his usual steady self. Sam played his role. I've been watching all of you. I don't know about God answering prayers, but I do know that you guys didn't get lucky today. You earned it. Donna scouted the other teams pretty thoroughly. I was with
her. Otherwise, a bunch of priests could have beaten Dantes Infernos by saying a few Masses before they took the court."

Buzz and Sam were both jolted by Ellie's forcefulness in making her point.

After a moment, Buzz said: "You know, you two were really meant for each other." He leaned forward and engulfed them both in a gentle hug.

"All right, huddle up," he said, leaning his head onto Ellie's
forehead. Sam hunkered down, and they shared shoulders with arms.

"Listen to me, you two," Buzz continued in a hushed tone. "I wouldn't trade you two for the world. Just seeing you together, happy and all; I would rather have missed that shot than not have you for friends."

Ellie's heart melted toward Buzz at that moment.

In the background, Bill White pressed a button on the CD player. The guitar
strings from the Church's "The Milky Way Tonight" came streaming from a speaker placed next to a screened window.

"And you know something else, Buzz," Sam added.

"What?"

They began swaying to the haunting melody as if moved by a slow wind.

"When you made that shot, you know what I said to myself, Buzzboy?"

"What?"

"Thank God."

3

The phone rang in the Beck's kitchen. Mrs. Beck put down her tomato
strainer, licked a runny thumb, and picked up the phone.

"Beck residence. May I help you?"

She listened for a few moments. "Okay, I'll get her."

She laid the handset down next to a bowl of rising pizza dough.

"Donna!" she called into the living room, trying to hide the excitement in her voice. "Phone!"

Donna pulled herself up from in front of the television set. Her father was in his chair, cleaning
up at
Jeopardy!
again.

"Yes?" Pause. "Oh hello!" Donna said excitedly, holding the phone with both hands.

"You've been accepted," the female voice on the other end of the line said evenly. "You can start in four weeks. We'll send you a list of things you'll need to do to prepare and bring with you."

Donna let her head fall back, closing her eyes, and raised her heart to heaven. Her mother clapped
her hands together, and let out an elated cry as tears began to form in her eyes.

Thank God!
Donna prayed.

The words burst through her soul like a ball through a hoop.

4

Bill White was cutting a felled tree into logs with a chainsaw in the sprawling backyard of Sam's new house in Shaker Heights, having a blast. His shirt was off even though the evening was bringing a slight drop in temperature.
He had rushed over after work to help Sam and Buzz.

His back was aching.

In the front yard, on a patch of growth next to the front entrance, Buzz and Sam were digging a bush out from under its roots.

It was two days before the wedding.

"You know, Sam, if you can afford a house like this, you're supposed to be able to afford to hire some gardeners."

Sam laughed. "I can afford you. You're free.
This is called keeping overhead down in the business world. Sweat equity in its purest form."

"You got the sweat part down, all right. We'll have to start calling Bill your coolie."

"What's a coolie?" Sam asked.

"Didn't you read your history books in school?"

Sam shrugged.

Buzz shook his head with mild disgust.

Buzz stepped back and leaned on his shovel. Next to him, the taller man lifted an ax
into the air and gracefully brought it down on a root ten inches below the ground. The root sliced in two, surrounded by clumps of dirt. Sam had purchased the ax an hour earlier. It still had the price sticker on its head.

"Let's see if that does it," Sam said.

They had cut the bush down to a stump before digging around it. Buzz leaned over and grabbed two branches and yanked. It didn't budge.

Both men took a deep breath. Buzz picked up his shovel and began to dig again, searching for another root.

Sam looked at his house. It was a tudor, modest in size by Shaker Heights standards, with only three bedrooms and a small living room and dining room. A starter home in this old-money community.

The huge backyard, which was enclosed by fir trees planted in the 1930s, was one of the primary
reasons why Ellie had insisted upon it–that, along with the hand-carved redwood woodwork inside. The kitchen had been remodelled just a few years ago, which Sam was thankful for, even though Ellie was planning to replace the cabinets. She didn't like the style. "Too early-eighties," she had explained. She also had plans to remake the basement into a large home-office.

"Can I ask you something,
Buzz?"

"Having cold feet about Ellie?"

"How did you know?" Sam was shocked.

"I'm a great guesser, remember? Besides, it's two days before the wedding, and you've been frowning every time you look at your new house. News flash: you're supposed to be thrilled, my friend, not depressed."

Sam frowned. "It shows?"

Buzz pulled his shovel out of the hole and jammed it into the grass. He pulled a pack
of cigarettes from his pocket, fished out a Marlboro Light, and expertly popped his Zippo to light it.

Sam waited patiently as Buzz took a few puffs.

"Sam, it's my job as your best man to know these things. It's normal to have cold feet. Forget it."