by Mike Lupica
Made it.
The Jazz were ahead by one now, the first lead they’d had in the fourth quarter.
Fifty seconds left. Even if the Wolves scored and took back the lead, there would still be plenty of time for the Jazz to take the last shot, maybe the dream shot that from Corey or Max or somebody else that would win the championship game.
Gramps didn’t call time, even though he had a time-out in his pocket. He let his players play. It wasn’t just who they were. It’s who he was. With ten seconds left on the shot clock, Ryan came up and set one more screen. Lucas threw him the ball. Only he didn’t use the screen now. He was the one popping out, to the foul line extended.
Ryan passed the ball back to him.
Lucas let his shot go.
It felt like money leaving his hands, as if he’d put a Steph Curry stroke on it.
But Corey Tanner got a piece of it, because of those long arms. Problem was, he got a piece of Lucas, too. The sound his hand made on Lucas’s shooting hand sounded like a thunderclap in that moment. It was a clear foul. The ref didn’t hesitate, and blew the whistle.
Two free throws coming.
If Lucas made them both, his team was back in front.
So here were the two free throws he’d thought he might have to make in a big moment—or even the biggest—all season long. Here was why he had stayed in the gym or in the park until he had made ten in a row, making himself knock down ten in a row.
Only he didn’t need ten now.
Just two.
All his life, from the time he’d starting playing, he had prided himself on being a team player. But now he was the team. He was like Ryan in tennis, out there alone, nobody to whom he could pass the ball.
He knew how many people were watching. The sound of the crowd today had been louder than anything they’d heard all season. But nothing had changed, not really. He was alone at the line. Him. Ball. Basket.
He went through his routine. Took a deep breath. Visualized the ball going through the basket.
He made the first.
Game tied.
He went through his routine again, telling himself not to rush. Took one more deep breath.
Lucas made the second.
The Wolves were ahead by a point.
Fifteen seconds left in the big game.
The Jazz coach didn’t call for a time-out, either. He let his players play, in the biggest moment of their season. There was no need for him to draw up a play, anyway. Everybody in the gym knew where the ball was going.
Corey Tanner.
He dribbled to the right. Lucas shadowed him.
Eight seconds.
Just the two of them on that side of the court as Corey started backing in.
It was here that Gramps did something he hadn’t done one time all season.
He yelled at them.
Top of his voice.
“Now!”
Ryan came running, long arms in the air, just as Corey turned back around on Lucas and went into his shot.
Only it wasn’t just Lucas on him.
Ryan was there, too, using his own long arms, making the clean block on Corey that Corey hadn’t made on Lucas at the other end.
The ball didn’t get close to the basket. It ended up in Billy’s hands instead, as the horn sounded with the Wolves still ahead by a point.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The Wolves cheered for themselves as loud as they ever had.
They were all together in a raucous scrum near the spot where Ryan had blocked Corey’s shot, jumping up and down, some of them hugging each other, some of them pounding each other on the back, some of them just throwing their heads back and yelling to the top of the gym.
When Lucas finally broke away from the celebration, he walked over to where Gramps had been quietly watching them from in front of their bench, the Santa Claus smile finally back on his face, as if this were the Christmas he had missed this year.
“Like I told you,” Gramps said to Lucas. “Everybody needs a helping hand sometimes.”
A few minutes later, after it was announced by Mr. Dichard that Lucas and Ryan had been named co-MVPs of the championship game, they were standing on either side of Gramps at mid court, and Gramps said, “Little help here,” one last time.
Then the three of them held up the championship trophy together.
More from the Author
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Team Players
Point Guard
The Extra Yard
The Only Game
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Taylor McKelvy Lupica
MIKE LUPICA is the author of multiple bestselling books for young readers, including the Home Team series, QB 1, Heat, Travel Team, Million-Dollar Throw, and The Underdogs. He has carved out a niche as the sporting world’s finest storyteller. Mike lives in Connecticut with his wife and their four children. When not writing novels, he writes for Daily News (New York) and is an award-winning sports commentator. You can visit Mike Lupica at MikeLupicaBooks.com.
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Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Simon & Schuster, New York
ALSO BY MIKE LUPICA
Batting Order
The Only Game
The Extra Yard
Point Guard
Team Players
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2020 by Mike Lupica
Jacket illustration copyright © 2020 by Señor Salme
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Lupica, Mike, author.
Title: The turnover / Mike Lupica.
Description: First edition. | New York : Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, [2020] | Audience: Ages 8 to 12. | Audience: Grades 4–6. | Summary: “When a young basketball star decides to research his grandfather—and coach—for a school project, he uncovers a decades-old scandal that changes everything he thought he knew about his grandfather”— Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019031128 (print) | LCCN 2019031129 (eBook) | ISBN 9781534421585 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781534421608 (pdf)
Subjects: CYAC: Basketball—Fiction. | Coaches (Athletics)—Fiction. | Grandfathers—Fiction. | Scandals—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.L97914 Tur 2020 (print) | LCC PZ7.L97914 (eBook) | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019031128
LC eBook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019031129
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