Real Hoops (5 page)

S
imple pass, Hudson!” Coach George shouted from the bench after yet another turnover. “Simple pass!”

Ben checked the scoreboard as he ran back on defense.

The Roosevelt Raiders trailed the Robinson Panthers by six points in the third quarter. Ben looked over at the Raiders bench. Coach George stood with his arms folded, as if he was thinking of his next move.

I hope he keeps Hud in
, Ben thought.

Logan ripped down a missed shot and whipped a pass to Hud, who quickly took the ball up the middle of the court as Ben raced along the right. At half-court, Hud zipped a no-look pass to the right, but Ben was a half step behind. The ball bounced off his fingertips and out of bounds.

Coach George slapped the bench and signaled to Levon to get ready. The next time the referee blew his whistle, Levon went in for Hud.

I should have caught that pass
, Ben thought.
Then Hud would still be in the game
.

“Be careful, Levon!” Coach George shouted after him. “Remember, you already have four fouls.”

Hud dropped down on the end of the bench and leaned back. He wiped his face with a towel and threw it on the floor in frustration. “Come on, Raiders!” he called. “Let’s come back.”

Slowly, the Raiders started to inch back into the game. With Levon running the
offense and getting the ball to Logan on the inside and Ben on the outside for open jump shots, the Raiders pulled within two points of the Panthers. With three minutes to go in the game, the score was 47–45. The Raiders were pumped. They could win this one!

“Come on, Raiders.”

“We need a stop.”

“Good defense, good defense.”

The Panthers point guard brought the ball downcourt and they started passing it around, looking for a good shot. Ben saw a chance for a steal and bolted toward the action. He almost intercepted a pass, but the ball slipped past his fingertips.

“Help!” Ben shouted as the Panther he was supposed to be guarding drove to the basket.

Levon stepped into the player’s path just as he tossed up a shot. Levon and the Panther collided and tumbled to the floor.

Tweeeeeeeet!

The referee blew his whistle and pointed at Levon. “Blocking foul on Number Fifteen!”

“Sorry,” Ben said as he reached down and pulled Levon up.

The horn sounded. The official at the scorer’s table held up five fingers. “That’s five fouls on Number Fifteen.”

Hud reported to the scorer’s table and went into the game for Levon. Coach George shouted instructions from the sideline. “Simple passes. No French pastry. Just run the offense.”

The fouled Panther player stepped to the line and calmly hit two free throws. The Raiders trailed by four with two minutes to go, 49–45.

The teams traded baskets and Roosevelt still trailed by four. One minute to go. Hud took a chance on defense, darting out and tipping the ball away from the Panthers dribbler.

A pack of players dove for the loose ball. Ben and a Panther player both wrapped their arms around the ball. The referee blew his whistle and looked at the scorer’s table. The possession arrow pointed to the Roosevelt bench.

Ben pumped his fist as the team cheered.

“All right!”

“Comeback time!”

“Need a basket!”

In the Raiders’ next possession, Ben curled around a clump of players as Hud dribbled near the foul line. Hud quickly spotted Ben and slipped a pass right off his dribble, getting the ball by the Panthers defense and into Ben’s hands. Ben tossed up a quick shot that rattled around the rim and dropped in. He glanced at the scoreboard as he raced back on defense.

Two down with 25 seconds to go
, Ben thought. “Tough D!” he shouted, getting down into his defensive stance.

The Panthers passed the ball around as precious seconds ticked off the clock.

“Foul him, foul him!” Coach George screamed, waving his arms and jumping off the bench. Ben grabbed the player with the ball.

“Time out.” Coach George signaled after the referee called the foul on Ben. He gathered the team around him on the sidelines. “Okay, we’ve got one time out left and they’re shooting one-and-one,” the coach said. “If he misses his first shot, get the ball, get it over half-court, and call time out. Then we can set up a play and get a good shot. Let’s go.”

The Panthers player at the foul line took a deep breath, bent his knees, and sent a shot spinning toward the hoop. “Short!” he shouted. The ball clanked off the front rim.

Logan got the rebound and tossed a pass to Ben, who dribbled quickly downcourt. “Time out!” he shouted the moment his feet passed the half-court line.

Back on the sidelines, the Raiders formed a tight circle around Coach George as he diagrammed the final play on his clipboard.

“Hud will look for Ben with a two-point shot,” he said, pointing at the play. “Take the shot as soon as you can, Ben. Logan, Andrew, and everybody else hit the boards, just in case he misses.”

Ben felt his heart pump faster as he walked back onto the court. He lined up
exactly where he was supposed to and ran the play just as Coach George had directed. But when he looked back for the pass from Hud, it wasn’t there. Hud looked at Ben, but instead of passing, he dribbled to his left, beyond the three-point line—and launched a long jump shot.

That’s not the play
, Ben thought. He raced toward the basket, desperately hoping for a rebound. Then he watched the ball float through the air, almost in slow motion.

“No!” Coach George bellowed from the bench.

The ball didn’t even touch the rim. It splashed though the net, barely moving the strings. A perfect swish!

“Yes!” Ben cried.

The Roosevelt Raiders mobbed Hud in the middle of the court. Logan pulled Ben out of the circle as the rest of the team jumped up and down together. “Now Coach has
got
to start Hud,” he said.

B
en glanced at the clock on the gym wall: 4:40.
Only twenty minutes left of practice
, he thought.
Is Coach ever going to let us scrimmage?

Coach George had not been happy with the Robinson game, even though the Raiders had won. So he was drilling them extra-hard during practice.

Layup drills.

Passing drills.

Rebounding drills.

But this time they were even more grueling than ever.

Logan leaned against the wall to catch his breath. “Guess we’re not going to scrimmage,” he said to Ben.

“Guess not,” Ben said. He was watching Hud cover Levon in a one-on-one defense drill. Coach George was right on top of Hud, shouting instructions. “Come on, Hudson. Keep your legs moving. Get your rear end down. Move your feet, don’t reach with your hands.”

Ben leaned toward Logan. “Just think what practice would have been like if Hud had
missed
that last shot.”

Tweeeet!

Coach George blew his whistle. The whole team looked up, still hoping for a scrimmage. “Fast-break drill,” Coach George snapped. He pointed around the gym. “Give me three lines. I want good, crisp chest-passes. Right on the numbers. I don’t want to see that ball touch the floor.”

Ben spied Hud across the gym. His friend caught his eye and shook his head.

The Roosevelt players weaved back and forth across the gym, running and passing at top speed. Luckily, the ball never touched the floor.

Tweeeeet!

Coach George blew his whistle again. Ben checked the clock: 4:50.

“All right, we’ve still got ten minutes,” the coach announced. “Let’s have a quick scrimmage. He grabbed a handful of bright yellow mesh jerseys out of a bag and began tossing them to the starters.

Logan …

Jordan …

Andrew …

Ben …

Coach George paused for a second, then tossed the final yellow shirt to Levon.

Ben glanced at Hud again. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were blazing.

“Hey, Coach,” Logan said, “when are you going to let Hud run with us?”

“When he learns how to run the plays the way I plan them,” Coach George answered without a hint of a smile. “Listen up, all of you. We have to run the plays the way I draw them up in the huddle. That gives us the best chance to win.” He stood with the ball on his hip and looked from player to player until his eyes settled on Hud. “We
got lucky last game with Hudson’s shot. But we don’t want to be lucky. We want to be good.”

He scooped the ball to Hud. “Okay, Hudson, your team’s ball.”

Hud played as if he was angry at the whole world and had something to prove. He dribbled furiously downcourt, fast-breaking past Levon to the basket, pulling up for jump shots, and passing to teammates from every possible angle.

But this time the first-string team was determined not to lose. They kept the score tied with baskets by Ben and Logan.

“One minute to go,” Coach George announced. “Next basket wins.”

Hud dribbled to the right, trying to get by Levon. But Levon played tough defense and cut off his path to the basket. Sensing that Hud was going to try to win the game all by himself, Ben left his man and snuck up behind him. Hud suddenly reversed direction and ran up against Ben, who knocked the ball loose. Ben scrambled after the ball, with Hud trailing and pulling at him.

Ben finally grabbed the ball near the sideline and looked upcourt. He tossed a pass to Levon, who was wide open. Levon laid the ball into the basket.

“That’s game,” Coach George called. “We don’t have time for the losers to run wind sprints now. They’ll run next practice.”

Ben saw that Hud was already moving toward the locker room even though the coach was still talking. “See you tomorrow at three o’clock sharp. We’re playing Wilson. They’re undefeated, too, so be ready to play your best.”

“Good game,” Logan told Ben as they walked across the gym. “We needed every one of your baskets.”

“Yeah. I really thought Hud was going to beat us again,” Ben replied. “All by himself.”

“He sure left fast,” Logan said. “Do you think he was mad or something?”

“Don’t know.” Ben shrugged.

The two boys walked into the locker room as Hud was heading out. He had thrown his winter jacket on over his practice uniform
and he was still sweaty. The gym bag slung over his shoulder was half open and his clothes were spilling out.

“Hey, where are you going?” Ben said.

“Yeah, no hard feelings on the loss, right?” Logan teased.

“I’m out of here,” Hud said. “I’m not running any wind sprints for that guy.”

“What do you mean?” Logan asked.

“Coach is never going to start me.” Hud almost spit out the words. “Even after I won that last game for us.”

“Hey, Coach is tough on everybody,” Ben said. “He’s just trying to get us ready for varsity. He’s trying to make us all better players.”

“No, he isn’t!” Hud said. “He’s trying to make me play the way
he
thinks I should play. And he’s got all those dumb rules.” He pushed open the door.

“Wait a minute, where are you going?” Ben asked.

Hud looked back over his shoulder. “To Westwood,” he said. “To play some
real
hoops.”