Hoop Crazy (14 page)

The ref walked over to us, accompanied by one of the officials.

“Here's the score sheet,” he said, handing the sheet to my father. “You win sixteen to zero. The other team is disqualified.”

“That's too bad that they had to lose that way,” my father said.

“It is too bad that these kids and their parents don't get it. This is about playing basketball and being good sportsmen … sportspeople,” he said, looking at Kia.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I reffed two of their games in the first round,” he said, shaking his head. “They spent less time playing than they did trash talking and trying to intimidate the other teams. Congratulations on making it to the finals.”

“So there's only two teams left?” I asked.

“There will be after this round. The other semifinal game is still going on. You four get a break because of the disqualification.”

“When is the next game?” I asked.

The ref pulled a schedule out of his pocket and ran a finger down the paper.

“The winner of this semifinal plays at three o'clock.” He looked at his watch. “So you have a little more than an hour before the game starts. You have plenty of time.”

“And do you know which court we're on?” I asked.

“That's easy. You'll be playing right over there,” he said, pointing toward the bleachers.

“The center court?” Ned gasped.

“That's where all the finals are being held,” he said. “So good luck.”

“Thanks!” Kia answered as the ref walked away.

“Boy … the big center court … that's … that's …”

“Scary,” I said, completing his sentence.

“Yeah, scary,” he agreed. “Does that sound stupid?”

“Not to me,” I said.

“You'll do fine,” my father said. “The worst thing is to get all nervous thinking about it. You have too much time between this game and the next to think.”

“Maybe the kids should do something to take their minds off the game,” Ned's mother suggested. “Maybe something fun.”

“What did you have in mind?” I asked.

“We could all get something to drink and then go up in the stands and watch a game. Or maybe look at some more of the displays?”

“That would be good,” Kia said.

“You can if you want,” I said.

“What do you have in mind?” she asked.

“I'm going to watch the other teams play. I want to see what we're going to be facing.”

“Maybe that isn't such a great idea,” Kia suggested.

“Maybe not … but …”

“You're right,” she agreed. “Let's go over and have a look.”

We settled in among the other people on the sidelines watching the game.

“Do you know who that is?” I asked Kia.

“I recognized them right away,” she said.

One team was made up of four guys we knew from rep basketball. Our team had played them twice last year and lost both games. They were part of a good team, and were probably the best four players on that very good team.

“Do you think we have a chance against them?” Kia asked.

“Yeah … right. I wonder what the score is?”

“Eleven to three,” a woman standing beside me said.

“That figures, they're killing them,” I said.

Just as the word got out of my mouth they put up a shot and it dropped.

“That makes it twelve to three.”

“No, no,” the woman said. “That makes it eleven to four.”

“You're joking, right?”

“No, the blue team is winning.”

I looked at the other team. They were all dressed in identical blue uniforms. They had on the same shorts, socks, shirts, and even their shoes matched. I'd never seen any team that had matching shoes.

“They are pretty good,” Kia said.

“You'd expect that,” the woman said. “They've already won four of these contests this year.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“They're an all-star team that travels around from city to city competing in three-on-three tournaments. They've already won in Pittsburgh, Indianapolis, Cincinatti and Montreal, as well as finishing second in Detroit.”

“How do you know that?” Kia asked.

“You see the tall one?” the woman asked.

He was hard to miss. He was almost as tall as Ned.

“That's my son.”

“He's big,” I said.

“Not as big as your center,” she said.

Ned wasn't even standing with us. How did she know about him?

“Have you seen us play?” I asked.

“We always scout the opposition,” she said. “We watched some of the opening round and all of the other playoff games.”

I had a sickening feeling come over me.

“That way we know the strengths and weaknesses of each team so that our boys can play the best game they can,” she continued.

The sickening feeling suddenly got much, much worse. If they'd been watching us, they knew that Ned couldn't shoot.

“It's so nice to see a young lady playing,” the woman said.

“I always play with boys. It's better competition.”

“It's a shame that your fourth player can't play,” she continued.

“Yeah, Mark has a —”

“Upset stomach,” I said, cutting Kia off. “He may play a lot in the next game.”

“Oh … I thought somebody mentioned that he had a sprained ankle and couldn't move.”

“He can run if we need him … the ankle was a long time ago … it's healed.”

Kia gave me the strangest look, but kept her mouth closed.

“And your big man … what's his name?”

“Ned,” Kia answered.

“He hasn't played much basketball, has he?”

“A lot. He's played a lot,” I answered.

“Oh,” she said, sounding like she didn't really believe me. “Your team was very fortunate with that disqualification. You were facing an excellent team. I thought we'd be meeting them in the finals.”

Which meant, of course, that she didn't think we would have beat them. That was hard to argue with. I didn't think we could have beaten them either.

I didn't want to answer any more of her questions. She wasn't just making conversation. She was scouting us, or maybe trying to get inside our heads. Either way it was working.

I turned my attention back to the game. It was obvious that both teams were good, but the blue team was better. They rotated players in and out and all four could play. Two were fast and could move the ball. One was an outside shooter, and the big guy stayed under the net. If anything he was the weak link in their team. He was awkward, and not that fast, and, while he made a basket, he threw up two bricks before that.

“Game point!” yelled out the scorekeeper.

The ball was back up at the top of the key. The blue team covered their men.

“Break!” called the man.

He fed the ball in and it came right back out to him. He put up a wild three-point shot, which clanked
off the backboard. The rebound was gobbled up by the big guy in the blue. He instantly fired it out to one of his players. The ball was no sooner in his hands than it was fed back inside and the big guy deposited it in the net for game.

“Way to go guys!” the woman screamed and clapped her hands for them. She started to walk away, and then stopped, and turned back around. “Good luck!”

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“I think we're in trouble,” Kia said.

“Not me. I
know
we're in trouble.”

“This isn't going to work!” Ned protested.

“It has to,” Kia said. “It's our only chance.”

“Why don't we just keep doing what we've done in the other games?” he demanded.

“Because it isn't going to work. They've seen us play and they'll defend it.”

“Maybe not,” Ned said.

“If they don't, then we'll go back to outside shooting, but if they don't cover you —”

“Which is what we think will happen,” Kia said, cutting me off.

“Then we have no choice. We'll get you the ball and you're going to have to shoot.”

“That guy is big.”

“He's not as big as you,” I said. “You can do it.” 133

“I'm just not sure.”

“Look,” I said. “We can start with a play out to Kia or me if you want, but I know they're going to be waiting for that. I know it. Can we just try?”

Ned reluctantly nodded his head in agreement.

“Besides, what have we got to lose?” I asked. “Did anybody think we'd get this far?”

“I did. I thought we could win,” Ned said. “I guess I still think we can.”

I smiled. “A few good shots, a few lucky bounces, and anything's possible,” I said.

“Possible, but not probable, is that what you're saying?” Ned asked.

“We have to be realistic. About the only chance we have is if we can beat them down low.”

“You mean if I can beat them down low, right?” Ned asked.

I nodded my head.