Full Court Press (11 page)

“And just before we conclude our morning announcements,” Ms. Grieve said over the P.A., “I'd like to make note of our school basketball team. They did us proud last night with their third-straight win of the season, leaving them in fifth place in the league! Let's give them a big round of applause!”

Everybody in the class started to cheer. I felt myself start to blush. I remembered that my grandmother once said to me that blushing was happiness rushing to get out. That thought made me blush more.

“Have another great Clark day!” Ms. Grieve said as she ended the announcements.

“Kia and Nick, I was wondering, how much longer there is to go in the season?” Mrs. Orr asked.

“One more game,” I said.

“Unless we make the playoffs,” Kia added.

“I didn't know there were playoffs,” Mrs. Orr said.

“Oh, for sure. The top four teams make the playoffs,” Kia said.

“But we're not in fourth right now,” I said.

“Right now,” Kia agreed. “But we could be in fourth if we win our last game.”

“If we win our last game and the team that's already in fourth place
loses
its last game,” I added.

“Then we'd both be tied with four wins and four losses, but we'd get in because we beat them when we played,” Kia explained.

“So you still have a chance,” Mrs. Orr said.

“Not much of one. They're playing the last-place team in the whole league. They've only won one game this season,” I said.

“Maybe that team has gotten better,” Mrs. Orr said encouragingly.

“Not likely,” I answered.

“Didn't your team suddenly get better?” she asked.

“I'm sure nobody expected your team to have a chance to qualify for the playoffs after your first few games of the season.”

“I guess you're right,” I admitted.

“And if you surprised a lot of people, may be that team will surprise you, “she continued.

“That would be nice.”

“That's a more positive attitude. Now I'd like everybody to open up their reading books. I'd like to start the day with silent reading.”

A little cheer went up from the class as everybody dug into their desks to get their books. Everybody loved silent reading, including me. There always seemed to be so many good books to read. I pulled out my book and opened it up to the spot where I'd left my book mark.

The novel was called
Silverwing
and it was about bats. Normally I'm not into stories with talking animals, but there was something about this book that I really liked.

I was just about to start reading when I began to think about what Mrs. Orr had said. She was right, our team really had improved and it wasn't just because of the press. That had just been the beginning. Using the press
had allowed us to score some points and that started us winning and that started us believing that we actually could win.

All the things that Mr. Roberts had been teaching us in practice seemed to start working. People were passing more, and setting picks. And suddenly things like our free throws started to drop, and people were running back faster on defense, and getting rebounds, and when a ball was loose our players would throw themselves on the floor to get it.

Of course, it hadn't hurt that we'd all kept doing extra practice. Every lunch and every recess the ten of us would get together on the court in our schoolyard. Ms. Grieve had given us special permission so we could have the court all to ourselves until the end of the season.

And practice didn't end there. Kids from the team, and not just the four who had first come to my house, were over at my place. Some evenings and every weekend there were people from the team on my driveway, playing, practicing and just fooling around with the ball.

I knew my father
loved
this. Sometimes he'd come out and watch us. A couple of
times he even played. He wasn't bad for a guy his age — after all he had just turned forty-three.

Stranger though was what I believed my mother thought about all those kids being over and all that basketball being played. She loved it even more than my father! I even thought she was starting to understand the game. She was always out offering people something to drink, or treats, and she invited kids to stay for meals. Even Roy.

That first time Roy stayed for dinner — along with Marcus — I wasn't sure what surprised me the most: what good manners he had, or the fact that he out-ate my father. I'd never seen anybody even come close to putting away as much food as him.

Actually the thing that completely shocked me more anything was the fact that Roy and I had become friends. Maybe not friends like I was with Kia, or even like I was with Marcus, but we were friends.

You had to understand Roy, though, to know that he always was going to treat people a certain way. He still insulted, snarled, scowled, snapped and called me names. But between those things he'd do something nice, or smile
or be friendly. That was just how he was. Not just with me, but with everybody. That was his way of being friendly.

“All right, everybody, let's finish it up!” Mrs. Orr announced. “Please mark in your journals the pages you've read today and make a short entry to describe your reading.”

I closed my book and dug into my desk to find my journal. This was going to be one short journal entry: read from the top of page 93 to the top of page 93. Maybe I better put down a couple more pages than that. I could skip back later and read the pages I'd written I already read and maybe I could say something like, ‘and the bats continued their journey,' in my journal.

* * *

We all quietly changed out of our sweaters and into our street sneakers. We'd done all we could do. We'd won our last game of the season.

I knew there were times when my head hadn't been into the game. Part of my mind was elsewhere, thinking about a gym on the other side of the city where two other teams
were playing. Winning didn't matter at all unless there was a loss to go along with it someplace else.

“We did what we had to do,” Mr. Roberts said.

Everybody nodded or mumbled in agreement.

“All we can do is go home, get a good night's sleep and come back tomorrow morning.”

“Is there a practice tomorrow?” Kia asked.

Mr. Roberts shrugged. “I guess we'll schedule it, but we can't be sure until we know what happened with the other game, and we won't know that until tomorrow.”

There was a knock on the door of the change room and Ms. Grieve walked into the room.

“Ms. Grieve, this is the boys' change room!” Roy protested.

“I figured since Kia was in here there wasn't much danger in me coming in.” She chuckled. “I thought you might like to hear some news… I just got a phone call… you're in the playoffs.”

“Nick, are you still awake?”

I sat up in bed at the sound of my father's voice.

“You should really try to get to sleep,” he said.

“I have been trying. I just haven't been succeeding.”

He sat down on the edge of my bed. “You're just like I used to be before a big game. I'd be awake thinking through the game and —”

“All the things that could happen,” I said, finishing his sentence.

He nodded his head. “I'm still the same way before a big presentation at work.”

“Great,” I muttered. “I thought I'd outgrow it eventually.”

My father chuckled. “Didn't happen for me, but you never know. Your team finished fourth, right?”

“Yep.”

“So is your game tomorrow against the team that finished first or second?”

“Second place.”

“That's good… isn't it?”

“Very good. The first-place team beat us once during the season and once in an exhibition game and they were undefeated for the whole season. There wasn't one team that got within fifteen points of them.”

“That's great,” my father said.

“Maybe for them.”

“No, for your team.”

“How do you figure that?” I asked.

“If they've always won by a lot, then they won't know how to handle a close game.”

“They didn't look like they'd be panicking much,” I said, recalling how cool they were. “And, besides somebody would have to make it close to find out if they'd panic.”

“I see.” He paused. “And the team you're going to play tomorrow, what are they like?”

“They're good. They beat us and only lost two games all season.”

What I didn't say was that they were also the team that we were playing when I was bounced into the wall and out of the game. I'd thought a lot about facing them again.

“And do you think you can take them?” my father asked.

“We have a good shot if we can just keep playing the way we've been playing.”

“That's the attitude. Is the game being played in the other school's gym?”

“Yep. They got home-court advantage for finishing ahead of us in the standings. But that's okay with me. It's easier to play when nobody I know is watching us.”

“I see,” my father said quietly.

Had he been planning on going to the game and I'd chased him away?

“But you can come if you want! “I exclaimed.

“And I'd like to be there, but I can't come tomorrow. I have a work commitment I can't get away from.”

“That's too bad,” I said.

“When are the finals scheduled?”

“They're on Thursday, right after school.”

“In that case I'll make arrangements to be free for that.”

“But what if we don't make it to the finals?”

“Then you and I will go out after school and do something, maybe go to the arcade or play some laser tag or something.”

“That would be great.”

“And who knows, maybe your team will make it to the finals and the first-place team will be eliminated in their game.”

“That's not going to happen,” I snorted.

“Then you'll just have to beat them in the finals.” He paused. “I guess all this talk isn't helping you get to sleep, is it?”

I nodded my head. He'd just gotten my racing mind going even faster.

“In that case, then why don't you come downstairs for a while,” he suggested. “I know just what'll make you feel more tired. We'll get you a big glass of milk and a bowl of cereal, and we'll sit up together and watch a little late night TV.”

“That'll make me sleepy?”

“It always works for me. Come on.”

I threw off the covers and climbed out of bed.

* * *

On the way to the game I decided that Mr. Roberts' driving had improved during the course of the season. He wasn't rocking and rolling so much. In fact, my stomach felt fine — no, better than fine — there was no hint of nervousness or upset. And it wasn't just me. Everybody in the car was joking and laughing and having a good time. Why was everybody so relaxed? It wasn't like we'd done well against the team we were going to play. They'd beaten us badly. Of course, that was early in the season and we'd improved a whole bunch. Maybe we could take them. Suddenly my stomach did a little flip and I realized why everybody seemed so relaxed about this game. Even if we lost we'd still have gone a lot farther than anybody had thought we would. We had nothing to lose… unfortunately, having nothing to lose meant we probably
would
lose.