Hoop Crazy (15 page)

I looked all around. We were surrounded on three sides by bleachers. They were half-filled — about two hundred people were watching. My dad sat in the front row beside Debbie. Kia was squatted down in front of them. She wasn't starting the game.

“You feeling okay, Ned?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“Neither am I. Just remember to —”

“Let's get it started,” the ref called out.

“We'll do fine,” I said to Ned.

I took the ball up to the top of the court. We had the ball to start because we'd won the coin toss. That might be the only thing we'd win this game.

“Check,” I said as I bounced the ball to the man who had come out to cover me.

“Good luck and have a good game,” he said as he bounced a pass back to me.

“Um … thanks.”

I took one more look around. Here we were, center court, surrounded by hundreds of people, in the finals. Sixteen baskets away from a win. It could happen.

“Break!” I yelled.

Mark hobbled to the side, his man practically glued to him. Ned went to the low post and his man struggled against him, trying to push him away. I shifted to the side and put in a bounce pass to Ned. The ball came to him, bounced slightly away and he reached out and grabbed it.

He faked a pass and then spun around and threw the ball at the hoop. It hit the bottom of the rim, and Ned and their man scrambled after the ball. Somehow Ned got it and threw it up again. It hit the backboard and went in the net!

“It's a basket!” Ned screamed. “A basket!”

I turned around in shock as the audience cheered.

“Ned, go out and cover the throw-in man.”

He didn't move. He was frozen, looking up at the crowd.”

“Ned!” I screamed and he turned to me.

“Go out and cover the throw-in man. Mark, go under the hoop against the big man.”

Both of them looked at me like I was crazy.

“Just do it!” I yelled and they both scrambled to their positions.

The man tossed the ball to Ned. Ned passed it back to him. Thank goodness he'd remembered it was just a check.

Their player looked around for an open man. I stayed as close as I could to my man, leaving him only one option — throwing it to the man under the hoop. Mark was trying his best to get position, but he couldn't push off on that one foot, and was so much smaller to begin with. I knew it was a bad mismatch, but what else could we do? Mark couldn't move enough to cover anybody else.

The ball sailed in, high and toward the net. Their big man grabbed the ball, spun around and shot. It dropped in for an easy basket.

“Sub in,” I said to the ref.

Kia came in and Mark went out. The blue team also put in their sub.

The ref tossed me the ball and I walked it out
to the top of the court. I passed the ball out to be checked.

“Break!” I yelled.

Kia broke down low, trying to use Ned as a screen. As she ran by both her man and Ned's man followed after her as she screamed for the pass. I lobbed a soft pass over everybody's head to Ned. He turned around and put up the shot … it missed … he grabbed the rebound to shot and —

“Foul!” the ref yelled out.

He took the ball and tossed it back out to me.

“Buzz!” I called out.

It actually didn't matter what I called. Each play was going to be basically the same — me throwing the ball to Ned and him putting it up — until they starting covering him. If they had been scouting our games the way I thought, they'd been told about some of our plays as well.

Kia scrambled around, trying to get free. She cut in between my man and me and I practically handed her the ball. She dribbled off to the side and threw the ball in to Ned. He hesitated for a split second and then tossed it up. I started to charge in for the rebound and it dropped in!

“Great shot, Ned!” I screamed. “Stay low … stay on their big man!”

Somehow, against all the odds, this was working.

I moved out and took the check of the ball. The pass went in to Kia's man. She had to take him tight because he was such a good outside shooter. He went to shoot and she jumped up and — he faked the shot and dribbled around her and went up for a lay-up and —
smack!
— Ned reached out and smashed the ball away. I scrambled after it, grabbed the ball and threw it out to Kia, alone on the edge of the line. Her man rushed back out as she threw up a shot and … basket! That counted for two and we were suddenly in the lead 13 to 11.

“Timeout!” called out one of their players. He handed the ball to the ref.

They walked over to their coach as we collected around my father. Ned's mother had looked at all the old scores on the big board and no team had gotten this many points on this team the entire tournament. That was sort of a victory all by itself. But now I didn't want ‘sort of a victory' … I wanted to win.

“I think you have them a little bit scared and a lot confused,” my father said.

“They don't know what to expect from us,” Kia said. “But neither do I.”

That had been our whole strategy the entire game — do whatever wasn't expected. Instead of
their scouting working for them it was working for us.

“Maybe it's time,” my father said. “What do you think about running some plays the regular way? That's now what they won't expect.”

“Do you think it would work?” I asked.

“They're covering Ned tight. A couple of times they've dropped a second man in looking for the rebound,” he said. “They're expecting him to shoot.”

“Can you fake a shot and then put it outside?” I asked Ned.

“I guess so … I'm really tired.”

“So is their center. He's not used to playing the whole game. You're wearing him down too.”

“Do you think so?”

“He's dragging. He's been spending a lot of energy trying to push you out. He's not used to playing against somebody who's bigger than he is. Keep pushing back.”

“Let's go!” the ref called out.

“First time we get the ball it goes in to Ned for a fake shot and pass back to Kia for the shot. Let's do it.”

It was their ball to start after the timeout. I started out to the top of the key to cover the throw-in then I stopped.

“Ned, go out top.”

He looked a little thrown by what I'd said, but
started out anyway. I went under the hoop against their big man. He wasn't as big as Ned, but was a lot bigger than me. I took up a position between him and the ball, leaving him free if they could lob a pass over top of me. I started pushing into him, even before the ball had been checked. He hardly budged. I turned around and with both hands pushed against him, forcing him over and —

“Foul under the net!” the ref yelled out.

“How many is that?” I asked.

“Six. Next foul they shoot.”

“Thanks.”

The ball was still in the hands of their man and he went to check the ball again. Before Ned could even return the ball I turned around and shoved their center hard with both hands.

“Hey, what are you —”

I shoved him again before he could finish his sentence.

“Another foul under the hoop. Blue team to shoot!”

Kia walked over to me. “What are you doing?” she quietly hissed at me.

“I don't think he can shoot,” I whispered back.

He took the ball to the foul line, bounced it twice and shot. It bounced off the rim and missed. It was our ball.

“You made a good guess,” Kia said as she brushed by.

“Now let's have a good shot.”

I took the ball at the top, quickly checking it. “Monarch!” I yelled out.

Ned broke down the line to low post and Kia cur ved around him. His hands were up, but the other center was practically wrapped around him. T hey were really battling, pushing and shoving each other with their bodies. There was no way I could get the ball inside to him even if I wanted. Kia broke free and I passed it in to her. She dribbled, looking for an opening. I faked one way and then set up a screen for her. She broke around me and lobbed the ball inside to Ned — he'd got position. He faked the shot, drawing in my man.

“Ned!” Kia yelled.

He looked at her, went to throw the pass, but in that instant realized she was covered. He threw it out to me. I aimed and threw it up … spinning, spinning, spinning and in for two points!

“Game point!” the scorekeeper yelled out.

“Timeout!” their coach yelled and they started off the court.

“Sorry,” the scorekeeper said. “You're out of timeouts.”

“We can't be!” their coach protested. “You are,” the scorekeeper stated.

The ref picked up the ball. “Play the game,” he said as he tossed the ball to one of their men.

“Eleven!” their coach yelled. “Eleven!”

Eleven … I knew that play. Their big man was going to come outside and set a screen for my man who'd get the ball and drive.

“Ned,” I said. “Go out and check the ball … slowly.”

I walked up to their center under the net. I wanted to foul him again so he'd have to shoot. Instantly I started pushing against him, using my legs, body and arms. He pushed back hard and I couldn't budge him. He shoved back harder and I bounced slightly.

“Eleven!” called out their man.

Instantly their center shifted, running to the top of the key. I stayed down low, waiting. The man rushed by their center, losing Ned. I lunged out as the ball came in and tipped it away, falling forward on my face onto the asphalt. Kia grabbed the ball! We had the ball! I quickly picked myself up and —

“Timeout!” the ref yelled.

I looked around. Who had called a timeout?

“Substitution!” the ref called out.

“Who's changing?” I demanded.

“You.”

“Me? Why am I changing?”

“Your face.”

“What's wrong with my —” I put a hand up and it stung. I looked at my hand and it was covered
in blood.

“We can't let you play until the bleeding stops,” the ref said.

“But the game is almost —”

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “You've played a good game.”

“Come on, Nick,” my father said, taking me by the arm and guiding me to the sidelines.

“Maybe we can stop the bleeding and I can go back out,” I said.

My father shook his head. “That's not going to happen.”

“What is going to happen?” Kia asked.

“You only need a point so it should be something inside,” my father said.

“But what?” I asked.

“How about Mark throws it in to Ned and Kia stays up high,” my father suggested.

“Then what?” Ned asked. “Then you put it in the basket,” I said.

I expected Ned to argue. Instead he smiled.

“Do you want it straight in or off the backboard?”

“Either way is fine,” I said.

They went back out onto the court and I was left to watch. Mark took the check.

“Break!” he yelled loudly.

Wow … Mark yelled … that was amazing in itself.

Without hesitation Mark threw a soft lob pass
in to Ned. His man was battling him hard for position, pushing and Ned tumbled over to the ground!

“Foul on blue!”

Foul! That meant Ned had to shoot a foul shot! He'd never hit a shot from that distance in his entire life.

Mark offered Ned a hand and went to pull him up. Ned was so much bigger that he almost pulled Mark over before getting up.

The ref handed him the ball and he shuffled up to the line.

“Ned!” I called out and he looked over at me. “It doesn't matter. If you miss it or if you make it … it doesn't matter!”

He looked like he didn't believe me. He looked worried, no, worse than worried, he looked scared.

“Just shoot Ned … and don't worry.”

Ned bounced the ball. He bounced it again. I turned slightly away, just looking at him out of the corner of my eye. He bounced the ball again and then as he shot I closed my eyes completely and —

“He made it!” my father screamed. “He made it! He made it!”