Dunk Under Pressure (6 page)

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Authors: Rich Wallace

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BOOK: Dunk Under Pressure
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“I got no appetite. I don’t know what those guys are doing. I don’t feel like doing
anything
.”
“You have another game in the morning.”
Dunk grimaced and let out his breath in a hurry. “That’s just what I need,” he said, meaning quite the opposite. “Maybe I can waste that opportunity, too.”
Dunk was the last one on the bus, walking down the aisle past his teammates, who were spread out and dead-quiet, staring out the windows or at the seats in front of them.
Fiorelli stuck out his hand supportively for Dunk to smack, and Lamont slid over to make room next to him.
“Thanks,” Dunk said, as much for not shunning him as for making room.
Lamont hadn’t even played in the game, but he looked as glum as the starters. Stars or subs, they all wanted to win. They all had the same disappointment, knowing how close they’d come. They all would have shared that same triumph.
The bus pulled out of the YMCA parking lot.
Lamont put out his fist and Dunk met it with his. “No shame,” Lamont said softly. “We came
this
close”—he held his thumb and first finger an eighth of an inch apart—“to beating the best team in the state.”
“They knew we had ’em beat,” Willie said fiercely, kneeling on the seat in front of them and peering over. “You could see it on their faces. They thought they were going down.”
Lamont and Dunk both nodded. Willie sat back down.
They all fell silent after that. It was the quietest bus ride these guys had ever been on.
 
 
The team went to Denny’s for dinner. Dunk sat in a booth with Lamont and David and Miguel, but he barely picked at his hamburger and only ate a couple of fries.
After dinner, Willie and David left the room to join the others at the pool. They tried to talk Dunk into coming, but he begged off. “I’m tired,” he said.
“You ain’t tired,” David replied. “Look, we all win or we all lose. Nobody’s mad at you.”
“
I’m
mad,” Willie said. “Not at you, Dunk. Just that we lost. I felt like kicking out the windows on the bus I was so mad. But you ain’t the enemy. Like David said, we ain’t mad at
you
.”
“Thanks,” Dunk said. “Maybe I’ll come out later. Let me be alone for a little while, you know?”
“Sure,” Willie said. “I ain’t gonna twist your arm or anything.”
Dunk turned the TV to an old sitcom and lay back on the bed, barely paying attention to the show. He was hungry, but he still didn’t want to eat.
After a few minutes there was a knock on the door. Dunk opened it to find Krystal waiting there.
“Your coach said I could take you for a walk,” she said.
“I don’t feel like walking.”
“It’ll do you some good to get out.”
“Okay,” he said. “Gotta find my sandals.”
They walked up to the Boardwalk but didn’t say much.
“Everybody okay?” Krystal asked.
“Yeah. Nobody blamed me.”
“That’s good.”
“They
should
have,” Dunk said. “They should be playing for the championship tomorrow, not in some worthless consolation game.”
 
 
They sat on a Boardwalk bench, their backs to ocean, which was crashing a hundred yards behind them. Lots of people walked by—couples on vacation, groups of kids Dunk’s age and younger, packs of teenagers, college kids. Everybody was having fun.
Except Dunk. He was still as down as could be.
“It cooled off,” Krystal said. “Nice breeze coming in off the sea.”
Dunk nodded and said, “Yeah,” without any enthusiasm whatsoever.
Krystal turned to look at the water. The lights from the amusement pier illuminated some of the waves, and the red lights from a couple of boats could be seen way out near the horizon. Four teenage boys were noisily playing touch football in the dark on the sand, knocking into one another and laughing.
“Big ocean,” Krystal said.
Dunk looked, but then turned his gaze back to the boards beneath his feet. He folded his arms and held his chin in his hand.
“You remember a race I ran during my senior year in high school?” Krystal asked. “The county championships, remember?”
Dunk thought about it. “That time you lost?”
“That’s the one. I got caught on the final straightaway of the four-hundred by that girl from Lincoln and I just folded up; finished
fourth
!”
“Yeah. Only race you lost the whole season, wasn’t it?”
“Right. So you remember three weeks later in the sectionals, same situation, same girl? Remember what happened?”
“You smoked her,” Dunk said.
“I did. I stewed about that collapse for three weeks, Cornell. I thought about it when I went to bed and dreamed about it all night. Woke up every morning in a sweat and carried that with me all day. And I ran with it in my head during every workout, fought twice as hard as I ever did to make sure it would never happen again.”
Dunk nodded slowly. He wiped a tear from his eye with his thumb. “You’re lucky you had a chance to make up for it,” he said. “This one’s gonna haunt me for a long, long time.”
“It’ll go faster than you think,” Krystal said. “It hurts like crazy right now, but I’m telling you the truth. That hurt is what’s going to make you a better basketball player than you’d ever be without it. It’s going to drive you, Cornell. I can see it.”
He stared across the Boardwalk at a stand where players were lined up to shoot water guns at targets that would propel small mechanical horses toward a finish line. The barker was calling to people in the crowd, trying to get two more players for the race. Sixties rock music was blaring from the speakers.
“You’re right,” Dunk said. “When that game ended I thought I’d never want to play basketball again. Forget it ever happened. Now I can’t wait to get back to it. Get a chance to redeem myself.”
“Tomorrow morning,” Krystal said.
“Nah,” Dunk replied. “I probably won’t even play in that game. What I mean is, the next season is a long way off. I’m going to have to live with this for a while.”
“Live with it, yeah. Kick it in the butt every time you get on the court. You don’t
want
to forget what happened. You want it hanging there to remind you how hard you have to work to get past it.”
Dunk’s eyes opened a little wider. He bit down on his lip. “I hear you.”
“How’d you even make this team in the first place, Cornell? As I remember you were the worst of the worst a year ago.”
Dunk gave a slight smile. “Was I that bad?” “You weren’t good. Took about a thousand hours of practice just to learn to shoot free throws, didn’t it?”
Dunk’s smile got wider. “I think I learned a little faster than that.”
“Still can’t jump,” Krystal said. “Still can’t run. Got a long way to go, I’d say.”
“Whoa,” Dunk said, leaning back in mock surprise. “Getting tough on me, aren’t you?”
Krystal put her arm around him. “Maybe you’re finally getting tough enough to take it, nephew. See, there’s more to life than free throws. There’s more to
basketball
than free throws. That’s a good place to start, though. Now we just move on from here.”
8
Back on the Horse
 
 
C
oach Temple had a surprise for the team as they gathered in the locker room before the consolation game.
“Miguel and David will be the starting guards,” he said. “This is not a demotion for Willie or Spencer or anybody else. But we’ve all worked hard and we all deserve some quality playing time, especially since the title is out of our reach.”
Spencer looked surprised, but he didn’t balk. Willie put up his hand.
“Yes, Willie?”
“Will we play at all?”
“Sure. Everybody will play a lot today. But I’m not done naming the starters yet.”
“You’re benching us, too?” Fiorelli asked.
“Not benching. Just spreading things out. We’re going with Lamont and Dunk at forward. Louie at center.”
Dunk’s eyes got wide and he felt a tightening in his gut, but that quickly went away. Jared gave him a light jab with his elbow and said, “It’s all you, bro.”
“You got it,” Dunk replied.
“We’re not conceding anything,” Coach said. “Third is better than fourth. But last night was wrenching. Let’s take the pressure off and
enjoy
this game. I don’t expect any falloff just because we’re starting five new guys. Everybody on this team is good.”
Dunk stood and walked with the others to the gym. He was excited but scared. This was unexpected.
Montclair had won its first two games but had fallen to Burlington in the semifinal. So the two North Jersey teams would be playing for third place in the tournament.
And though he knew it was just a consolation game, meaningless to anyone but those involved, Dunk couldn’t help but feel as energized as if he were competing for a state title. What a difference to know in advance that he’d be playing an important role. Not like last night when he’d been caught off guard and unready at a crucial moment.
“Thanks, Coach,” he said, falling in step with Coach Temple as they entered the gym.
“Right back on the horse,” Coach said. “Put last night behind you.”
“That’s where it is, but I won’t ever forget it. I’m ready.”
Dunk stood near the basket and rebounded for his teammates, who were firing up jump shots. The bleachers were nearly empty. Most of the Hudson City fans had gone home after last night’s game, and the bigger crowd for the championship game hadn’t arrived yet. Aunt Krystal was seated behind the Hornets’ bench.
“Guess it’s up to us,” said Louie Gonzalez, joining Dunk under the basket. Louie had not played since the opening game against Salem, and even then he’d only been on the court for a couple of minutes.
“We’ll be fine,” Dunk said. “Usually the nervousness goes away once the game starts.”
“Hope so,” said Louie. He wiped his hand across the top of his big round head. Like Dunk, he was tall but chunky, not very quick or limber. His feet were huge for a twelve-year-old. “I’m so nervous I could puke.”
Dunk smiled. “Aim for a Montclair guy if you do.”
Louie swallowed and nodded. “I’ll be all right,” he said. “Maybe Montclair will start their subs, too.”
But that was not the case. Montclair sent its regular lineup onto the floor. Dunk looked at the opposing five as they lined up for the jump ball. They looked very competitive and athletic.
The guy lined up next to Dunk was about his height, but his shoulders were higher and his stomach was taut. Even his fingers looked more athletic—longer and stronger, as if he could grip that basketball like a vise or yank it out of your hands.
Now the ball was coming their way, tapped easily away from Louie by the Montclair center. Dunk’s man grabbed it and pivoted quickly, darting toward the basket as Dunk stumbled and then gave chase.
Lamont ran over to stop the rush to the hoop, leaving his own man uncovered.
“Switch!” Lamont called, and Dunk ran over to pick up the other forward.
David had already tried to make the same switch. The chaos left a guard wide open near the foul line, and that’s where the ball went. But he missed the open shot and Louie grabbed the rebound, hugging the ball to his chest and looking for someone to pass to.
Miguel took the ball and gave Louie a relieved grin. “Survived that one,” he said. Of today’s starters, Miguel had the most experience, having been the first sub off the bench in the first three games and playing significant minutes. He dribbled across the midcourt line and passed the ball to David.
Dunk fought for position near the basket, but Montclair’s man-to-man defense was tough. Sneakers squeaked on the wood floor and elbows flew.
“Let’s see some motion!” Miguel called. He had the ball again and was dribbling at the top of the key, eager to pass the ball inside. But nobody was close to being open.
Lamont drifted outside and the ball went to him. His shot was off target, smacking the side of the rim.
The Montclair center ripped down the rebound and made the quick outlet pass to the point guard, who led a fast break. But an errant pass went right into David’s hands, and the momentum swung back the other way.
Dunk hadn’t even reached midcourt yet, but this time his slowness was to Hudson City’s advantage. While the rest of the players were racing up the court, he and Louie had been caught flat-footed. So they were both wide open, and David’s pass found Dunk, who took three dribbles and made an easy layup.
He slapped hands with Louie and ran back on defense as fast as he could.
The Montclair coach was standing in front of the bench and yelling at his players. “You’re out of control,” he said. “Settle down.”
The point guard nodded as he dribbled past. He called out a play number and made a sharp pass to the corner.

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