Slam Dunk (3 page)

“You’re supposed to set an example,” said Grady. “You’re the guy everyone looks up to, and that means you can’t just score a lot of points and ignore us the rest of the time. Don’t you get it? You’re the team leader!”

“Nobody asked me to be the team leader!” Julian suddenly realized that he was yelling and that everyone in the house could probably hear him, even with the door closed. He forced himself to speak more quietly.

“Listen, I’ll be there for practice, and I’ll do what I can to see that the team doesn’t look bad. But if you think I’m going to clap my hands and talk about how good everyone’s playing when I know they’re not, well, too bad. Because that isn’t going to happen.”

There was silence for a few seconds from Grady’s end. Finally, the other boy said, “Man, I don’t know what happened to you, but if that’s the way you want it, then all right.”

“Nothing happened to me. And that’s just how I want it.”

“Right,” Grady said, all the good cheer gone from his voice. “See you around.”

He hung up before Julian had the chance to say good-bye.

As Julian slowly hung up his own phone, there was a knock on his door. Mr. Pryce stuck his head in. “Hi. Everything okay? I thought I heard shouting.”

Julian managed a grin. “Everything’s fine.”

“Well, all right then,” said his father. “Sorry to bother you, but I thought, maybe...I guess I didn’t hear right. Take it easy.” He closed the door again, leaving Julian alone.

Julian flopped on his bed, wondering what it would be like to be on a team that lost most of the time. He’d never played on a team like that. Maybe he’d have to get used to it. It wasn’t a nice thought.

Julian had trouble getting to sleep that night. When he finally did, he had an ugly dream in which he found himself playing basketball and doing everything wrong: missing easy shots, playing terrible defense, making dumb fouls, all in front of a huge crowd of people who kept laughing and jeering at him. He wanted to tell them that he was doing his best, but he couldn’t make himself talk. It seemed to go on and on, forever.

When he woke up the following morning, he felt as if he hadn’t got any sleep at all.

4

A
t school the next day, Julian thought about Grady and their angry phone conversation. He knew he had been out of line. A lot of what he’d said had been said just because he was feeling bad. When he spotted Grady in a crowded hallway between classes, he hurried over to talk to him.

“Hey, wait up! I’m sorry about last night. I was a jerk. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Grady nodded, and then he smiled. “I felt bad last night, too. Listen, forget it. It’s no big deal. We’re still friends, right? That’s the main thing.”

Julian felt as if a big weight had been taken off his shoulders. “Sure we’re still friends! Absolutely! Hey, you want to get together for lunch today?”

“Sounds good,” replied Grady. “I’ll look for you in the cafeteria, okay?”

“Cool,” said Julian. The boys touched fists, then hurried off to their classes.

The cafeteria was noisy and crowded when Julian arrived. He felt a tap on his shoulder from behind and turned to find Grady standing there.

“What a zoo, huh?” said Grady.

“Absolutely,” Julian agreed, looking around for a place to sit.

Grady pointed across the room. “Hey, there’s Mick. Come on, there are empty chairs across from him.” Grady started across the room, leaving Julian to catch up. Julian followed, but not eagerly. He’d been looking forward to spending a half hour with Grady, just the two of them. But there was no graceful way to get out of this situation, so he decided he’d have to make the best of it.

Mick had looked lonely, but he brightened up when he caught sight of Grady and Julian approaching. “Hey! You joining me?”

“Definitely!” Grady said, sliding into a plastic chair across from Mick. He pointed to Mick’s cafeteria tray and made a face. “You actually get your lunch
here?
You’re a brave man.”

Julian sat down next to Grady.

“Actually,” Mick said, “this isn’t so bad. You should’ve seen what they sold at my old school. Makes this stuff look pretty good.”

Grady made a face. “Get outa here! It was worse than the mystery meat they serve here? No way!”

Julian unwrapped his lunch. He nudged Grady and asked, “Think Max is playing ball where he’s living now?”

“Was Max a guy from last year’s team?” Mick asked. Grady nodded. “Yeah. Good player and a nice guy.” Mick whistled. “That was some team. I only saw you guys that one time, but you looked pretty awesome.”

“We’ll be good this year, too,” Grady said. “Coach Valenti is excellent. You’ll see.”

Mick waved to someone behind Julian and called out, “Yo! Len! Over here!” He pointed to an empty chair next to his.

Redheaded Len Hornsby sat down and nodded to Julian and Grady. Julian’s mood was turning bad. He’d hoped to hang with Grady, but these strangers kept butting in.

Mick turned to Len. “I was just saying, I saw the Tornadoes play last year. They were tough!” He looked at Julian. “What was it like having all the reporters and TV cameras around like that? Was it fun?”

Julian shrugged. “Was it fun? I don’t know, sometimes maybe, I guess.”

“It was unbelievable!” Grady said. “I mean, we never expected to go all the way to the state title. Sometimes it was scary, but sure, it was fun, too. We got to meet a lot of stars. Jools, remember when we talked to those NBA guys at that dinner? That was fun!”

“NBA? As in the
National Basketball Association
?” Len’s eyes were wide.

“Yeah, at the awards dinner,” Grady said. “And Jools got his Most Valuable Player trophy from the governor! The governor said that the state was proud of us, and that he looked forward to reading about us doing great things.”

“Really?” Mick asked. “You have pictures of yourself with the governor?”

“Uh-huh,” Julian muttered.

“We all got a shot of the governor standing with the team,” Grady said. “He seemed like a nice guy. And we were in the audience of a few TV shows and got to be special guests at some college games.”

“Amazing,” Mick said.

“You better believe it!” Grady said. “We used to laugh about it and wonder when we were going to wake up.”

Julian laughed. “Funny thing...
we
did this and
we
did that...pretty funny. All that
we
and
us.
”

“Huh?” Grady looked puzzled. “What do you mean? It’s all true, right?”

“Sure,” Julian said. “It’s all true. It all happened, all that stuff. It’s just funny, all this
we
stuff from a guy who mostly sat on the bench last year.”

Mick and Len exchanged a quick look and then focused on their food.

Grady narrowed his eyes. “I remember that I was in those pictures, too. I played in some of the games and was there, working hard, at every practice. Or was that some kind of dream?”

Julian shrugged. “Oh, I know. You played some.”

“I played plenty!” Grady was angry now.

Mick tapped Len’s arm. “Let’s take off,” he said quietly. He and Len stood up and grabbed their stuff.

Grady jerked his chair back and got up. “Hang on. I’m coming, too. I’d rather hang with you guys, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to bother the big star anymore. Come on.”

Julian was now sitting by himself. His appetite vanished. He threw his lunch in a nearby wastebasket. He wandered outside and sat on a bench in front of the school.

I shouldn’t have got on Grady’s case like that. Grady had been part of the team, even if he wasn’t a starter.

That was the key, Julian suddenly realized. Grady hadn’t been a starter. He didn’t know what it was like to lead the team to victory time and again — or to feel the pressure to stay on top, knowing that even one loss, one sloppy game, would ruin a perfect record. Last year, Julian had shared that pressure with four other starters, guys like Barry and Max, whose skills and talent matched his own and who had helped make Julian a star...
the
star.

But now he was the sole remaining starter. Now it was Julian and a bunch of question marks, many of whose names he didn’t even know yet. Without Barry and Max and the others, he wouldn’t look as good, and that bothered him.

Grady said that Julian had to be
the
leader,
the
example, for everybody else. Not
a
leader,
an
example. It was up to him. Well, he didn’t want to be that guy. He hadn’t asked to be put in that position. That scared him.

All the work and effort that had gone into making last year’s team what it was — he’d have to do all that work again. The same workouts, the same drilling and running and sweating... the whole deal. The difference was that at the end of the year, there would be a lot less to show for it. There had to be. And that discouraged him.

None of this was Grady’s fault, or Mick’s or Len’s or anybody’s. Julian knew that, but he couldn’t help how he felt —
trapped.

5

T
hat afternoon, for the first time ever, Julian was late to practice. When he arrived, the rest of the team was already in the gym warming up. He changed into his workout gear as quickly as he could and walked out on the court to see the players running the usual layup drill. The coach saw him and came over.

“Hi. How come you’re late?”

For a moment, Julian thought about coming up with some kind of excuse but gave up the notion almost immediately. He didn’t want to be a liar in addition to showing up late. But he didn’t want to tell the truth either — that he simply didn’t want to walk into the locker room and face Grady. He couldn’t say that.

So he said, “Sorry. No excuse. I won’t be late again.” “Uh-huh,” said the coach, fixing Julian with a stony stare. “Just so we understand each other completely, nobody on this team is allowed to break my rules. And showing up on time is one of the most important ones. I’ll take your word that it won’t happen again. Take some laps around the gym until I tell you to join the rest of the team.”

Julian nodded and began jogging around the floor, watching the drill as he went. It was the usual stuff, and it looked... well... dumb. The guys went in for uncontested layups, something that rarely happened in a game. When it did happen, it led to an automatic two points.

But his teammates were missing too many layups. Passes were poorly thrown. Instead of smoothly laying the ball in, the pass receiver had to break stride, sometimes even chase a ball that got away completely. And through it all, Grady was telling the guys how good they looked, even when they didn’t.

A few minutes later, Coach Valenti signaled for Julian to join the team. When his turn came to try for a layup, Julian took the ball and went as high as he could before letting it bounce off the glass and through the hoop. As he trotted to the end of the other line, Julian heard several of the players clapping and whispering to one another. He knew he’d made an impressive-looking shot.

A moment later, he soared equally high to pull down a rebound after a missed layup and tossed a perfect pass to the next man in line. That player was able to shoot without even a slight adjustment in stride. If Grady had said anything complimentary about Julian’s moves, Julian hadn’t heard it. And Coach Valenti’s face remained expressionless. But Julian knew he’d looked good. He felt a sudden surge of energy, a sense of re-discovering how talented he was.

The coach called the team together. “Some of you remember the sidestep drill from last year... and you probably hated it. But you need it to play tough D. First, make two lines down the middle of the court from one basket to the other. Make sure there’s some room between you and your neighbor... good. Now, face the other line.”

Julian found himself staring at Mick. The two boys nodded to each other.

“You don’t play good defense with your hands,” Coach Valenti said. “You play good D with your
feet.
When you play man-to-man, you have to stay right on the guy you’re guarding, keep him out of scoring lanes, and that means moving from side to side. When I blow the whistle, you’ll keep your hands up, like
this
”— he stretched out his arms with his hands just under shoulder height — “and you’ll move sideways, in this direction” — he gestured to Julian’s left — “until I blow the whistle again. Then you’ll move to the other side and switch again when I blow the whistle, and so on.

“Remember, keep your arms up and be alert, because sometimes I’ll blow that whistle pretty fast. Don’t slow down; don’t let me see anyone loafing. Ready?”

The whistle blew, and Julian moved to his left, his arms high. Before very long, his spurt of energy was gone, and he was breathing hard. He wanted to slow down, but Mick was managing to keep up the pace, forcing him to do likewise. His arms started to feel heavy.

Sometimes the coach blew the whistle only a second after the last blast, and the players would reverse direction after only a step or two.

“Watch those hands!” Coach Valenti called out. “Keep ’em up! Len, don’t slow down. Come on, guys, it’ll get easier in a week or two. Julian, don’t drag those feet!”

After what felt like hours but was only a few minutes, the coach said, “All right! Take a break. We’ll run this drill every day because you need the work.”

Julian bent over, his hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. Mick was gasping, too, and caught Julian’s eye. He smiled and said, “Man! He’s pretty tough!”

Julian nodded, took a deep breath, and said, “Believe it.” He thought about doing this every day, probably for a little longer each time, and stifled a groan.

“Well, it’s a good workout,” said Mick. “Wish we’d done this with my old team.”

Julian walked over to grab a towel from a courtside bench and mopped his face. As he did, he heard Grady’s voice. “Mind if I talk?”

Julian put down the towel and said, “I shouldn’t have said that stuff about you being a sub. That wasn’t fair.”

Grady shrugged. “You’re right, it wasn’t fair.” “That’s what I said,” Julian replied, a resentful edge in his voice.

“I wish you’d lighten up with the new guys,” Grady said. “You don’t have to be their best buddy, just treat them like teammates, which they are.”