Slam!

by Walter Dean Myers

  Outside I saw Goldy waiting to cross the street. He had on this knit cap and black overcoat.

  “You look like a bank robber, man,” I said to him.

  “You nervous about the game tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Not really,” I lied.

  “Good, then you won’t mind that the game is being taped, and that twelve colleges called and asked for copies of the tape,” Goldy said. “No big deal, right?”

  “No lie?”

  “They want to see Ice against some competition,” Goldy said. “You’re it.”

  “Nick’s going to be on Ice.”

  “Between you and me I think that the coach got a few calls and made a few promises,” Goldy said. “Make sure you bring a clean jock strap, people will be watching.”

  “So your team ready to go down?” Ice stood with me in the middle of the floor as our teams warmed up. Some photographers were taking our picture and I tried to ignore them. We were playing at our gym but the stands had as many Carver fans as Latimer fans.

  “They think they’re going to win,” I said.

  “Why they think that dumb stuff?” Ice asked, grinning.

  “I guess I told them,” I said.

  Ice cracked up and I laughed, too. Nothing was funny, the thing was that Ice was trying to get to my head. He pointed to me and laughed. Then he gave me five and went on back over to his team.

  “Okay, we’ve got to make them work for what they get,” the coach said. “Jose, Jimmy, their center is good and he’s taller than we are. You’ve got to keep him out of the low post. Push him out, make him work. I’ll work the refs to get some three-second violations. That way they can’t just park in the paint. Slam, you’re going to be on your pal Ice and you need to keep the ball away from him. You do that by playing him when he doesn’t have the ball.”

  He didn’t say anything about Nick guarding Ice, or even about changing. Goldy was right. Somebody dropped a dime and the coach picked up the phone.

  When I go into a big game I always try to do at least one thing right away. Sometimes I try to slam. Sometimes I try to stuff the dude I’m holding so he knows who’s the boss. Against Ice it was different. Brothers hadn’t worked him, hadn’t stayed on his case. I decided to just make sure he brought all his weight on every play.

  They got the tip and Ice had the ball. He pointed at me and started to move toward midcourt. Ice could go either way and I knew it. He faked left and came right and I eased off of him. He was too far from the hoop to do anything serious.

  He passed the ball to the off guard and got it back and started dribbling between his legs. It looked good but he wasn’t going anywhere with it. Then he made a strong move down the right side of the lane with me right with him. He brought the ball up, then pulled it down and laid it against the backboard on the other side for a reverse layup.

  “He can’t stop it,” he said to his center loud enough for me to hear.

  Nick brought the ball down against Joe Fletcher, their other guard. Joe was one of those little guys who looked like they got five arms, all reaching for the ball. I set a pick at mid-court and Nick tried to run him into it but he slid through.

  When Fletcher got away from the pick I released and started across the key. Ice was on me, and he kept his elbow in my side. I pushed him back just as I heard the crowd cheer. Fletcher had stolen the ball from Nick and was off for a breakaway goal. They were up four to nothing.

  “I bet we beat you by twenty points.” Ice was in my face running his mouth. “What you think?”

  I brought the ball down and Ice was pushing me with his fingertips. Not hard, not enough for the ref to call a foul, but enough to throw me off. Nick tried to set a pick but when I got near it Fletcher jumped off him and double-teamed me. I went up to throw the ball to Nick, who was open, but Ice was all over it.

  He grabbed the ball, spun, and threw it over his shoulder to Fletcher who was already going downcourt. They were up by six.

  We needed something and we needed it quick. Jose inbounded the ball to Glen who brought the ball up. Ice was running his mouth in my ear a mile a minute. I went to the boards and told Frank to move out. When Ice saw what I was doing he tried to get position on me. Nick drove down the left side, stopped, and went up like he was going for the short jumper. He passed the ball in to me and I went up with Ice all over me. The ball went off the backboard in the net and I pushed Ice off as we came down.

  “Don’t get nasty on me,” he said. No, he didn’t just say it, he hissed it at me.

  “Shut up and play,” I said.

  Their center scored the next two baskets and our coach called a time-out.

  “You guys are playing tight,” the coach said. “You got to have fun, loosen up.”

  Nobody on our team was talking. They were tight, and they didn’t think they were going to win.

  “How we look?” I asked Ducky.

  “Bad,” he said.

  We started back out onto the floor and Nick told Jose to set picks near the mid-court line when we were bringing the ball up.

  “No, man.” I put my hand on Jose’s arm. “Don’t give in to them. If they steal the ball, they just steal it. We’re as good as they are.”

  Nick gave me a look like he didn’t like what I was saying. I couldn’t beat Carver by myself, I needed the whole team coming out strong.

  Glen brought the ball down and threw a bullet pass in to Jose. It went off Jose’s hands and Ice got it. But then Nick picked the ball off by coming from behind Ice as he went downcourt. Nick came downcourt fast and passed it off to Jose who threw up a little hook. Their center knocked it away and I got it at the foul line. Ice came out on me but he came too close and I went around him. He cut off their center when he caught up with me but I was already on the way up. I threw it down hard and our side of the gym let out a roar.

  The ball came in to Ice and he never stopped. He went up and slammed with me hanging on his arm, but the ref didn’t call the foul. Ice complained and the ref told him to play ball.

  Nick threw in a three-pointer and Fletcher brought the ball down for Carver. The game was going too fast. They were running up and down the court and I knew we weren’t going to run with them.

  Fletcher had the ball and Ice was looking for the pass. I dogged him strong and he didn’t like it. He tried to cut around the baseline looking for a backdoor play or maybe to post me up low. When he did that I put my hand on his hip and leaned on him. He pushed me hard right in front of the ref, but the ref didn’t blow the whistle. They were letting us play through.

  Fletcher got the ball in to their center who threw up a hook that bounced around the rim before falling through.

  Coach had seen the same thing I did and called a time-out. He took out Frank at forward and brought in Trip; we were going to play the three-guard offense again.

  The Carver coach pointed at Trip.

  “He’s too small! He’s too small!” he called out.

  Trip came in ready. He brought the ball down and their forward was trailing him. He faked a pass and their forward went for it as Trip threw up a short jumper for the deuce.

  They posted Trip low and their forward took him right up. We got the ball and I missed an easy shot and they brought the ball down again. I was in Ice’s face, cutting him off wherever he went. He was playing stronger, putting some muscle on me and talking stuff.

  Fletcher missed a short jumper but their center put it back up and in.

  Nick called a play for me. It was a double pick at the top of the key. When I got the pill Ice had his hand on my leg. He fought through the first pick but the second one got him. I thought I was too deep to slam so I just laid it up. Good thing, too, because Ice was over the rim waiting for me to get up. When he came down he was mad.

  The rest of the first half went the same way. Me laying on Ice, and Trip and Nick working on Fletcher. It didn’t stop them, but it slowed them down and sometimes it confused them. At the end of the first half it was Carver 31 and La
timer 23. Ice, with me steady on his case, had still scored 15 points.

  In the locker room we were exhausted. The coach was saying we had played good, and Goldy was all excited.

  “You have to know that this is the best I’ve ever seen them play,” he was saying. “They’re the City Champions, they’re playing their best ball and we’re still in this game. We’re still in it.”

  “Ice is good,” Ducky said. “He can do anything.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said.

  I remembered what Ice had done to Brothers. He had made him look bad until the end of the game. Then Brothers had looked okay. Either Ice had got tired or he had eased off Brothers.

  We came out for the second half and Ice came up to me again.

  “You trying hard, huh?” he said.

  “Got to try hard against you,” I said.

  “Maybe you can play this half without leaning all over me,” he said, still smiling.

  He was smiling but I knew he meant it.

  They got the tip and Fletcher had the ball. I made a point of stepping on Ice’s foot and he gave me a look. Then he pushed off and got the ball and went strong for the hoop. I had the half step but I knew what he was going for. One step past the foul line and he took off for the slam.

  You can’t stop no slam with your fingers between the ball and the basket unless you want to get your fingers busted up. You have to hit the ball from the side and hope he hasn’t got his wrist cocked to power it through. I pushed the ball and Ice slammed it into the back rim. The ball come out and their forward grabbed it and threw up a jumper that missed and Jose tapped it out to Trip.

  We came down and Nick threw up a trey that fell. Ice called for the ball and told his team to clear. They cleared and Nick came over and double-teamed Ice. Good looking out. But then Ice made a spin move like he was going into Nick, then head-faked back toward me and went left hard. It left me and Nick running into each other at the top of the key.

  That move would have discouraged me and might have really got me down if Nick hadn’t picked up his game big time. He started going after everything. If he went down he wasn’t going down lame.

  The coach signaled up to play a box-and-one defense. On offense we lost the ball on a backcourt violation. We fell into the box-and-one with the rest of the team playing the zone box and me on Ice. Jose and Glen played deep. Nick and Trip played high, and I kept dogging Ice.

  I could feel Ice was getting mad. When they called time-out and he started toward the bench I stepped in front of him.

  “What’s wrong with you, man?” He looked at me.

  I threw him a grin and he sucked his teeth and walked away.

  When I play scrub ball I just do my thing and don’t worry about it. But when I’m playing against somebody really tough I start looking for the inch. If I can get up an inch higher than my man I can do something he can’t do, if I can reach an inch further than he can I can get to the ball first. But when you’re reaching like that, straining for the ball, you start to tense up and then you can’t do anything with the ball even if you do get it.

  I was reaching for the ball, busting every play, and trying not to tense up. I had to keep my eyes on the pill and keep going for it and keep making the moves even when I wasn’t hitting. We were coming back slowly but time was running out.

  Carver was pushing Jimmy around good but Nick was on the case and whenever Jose was in he was tougher even though he wasn’t as quick as Jimmy.

  Ice was playing me hard but I was getting to his stuff. At first it was just a fingertip or a nail, and then it was the top of my finger. He stopped trying to get over me and started freaking, bringing the ball down and around his back. But the ref wasn’t calling touch fouls and Nick and Trip were helping out anytime Ice went up in the air and brought the ball back down.

  His catch-up step was quick and never slowed down. A couple of times he caught me when I thought I had the step on him but I was going up stronger than he was. I didn’t know how good I was playing him, but I thought it was even. He wasn’t kicking my butt and I wasn’t kicking his. But then, halfway through the second half, he stopped dogging me. He yelled for a switch one time when he could have slipped through a pick and I found myself alone, unchallenged for the first time in the game. I went up with both hands on the ball and jammed it through. When I turned back Ice was looking away. It was like he had tried me and now was going someplace else.

  We caught up with Carver on a pretty play by Trip. He came down with their guard all over him. He went baseline, faked a straight layup, and then hit the reverse. There were two minutes to play. We each had one time-out. They took Ice out and our coach took me out, which I didn’t like.

  “They’re giving him a few-seconds breather,” the coach said. “He’s their crunch man. They’re looking to bringing it down to one play.”

  They stalled around, trying to set up a play, and finally got the ball in to their center who had positioned Jimmy deep. Jimmy grabbed him as he started to go up and the ball went straight up in the air. The ref blew the foul as their center turned and grabbed Jimmy by the throat. We jumped in and broke them apart before it became a fight.

  It was a two-shot foul and their center, a big guy who looked like George Foreman, blew the first shot and made the second.

  Trip came down and hit Glen on a backdoor play and we were up by one.

  The game clock read one minute and ten seconds. They brought Ice back in and I came in to guard him.

  The rest might have done him some good but I was so excited it didn’t mean a thing to me. Fletcher brought the ball down for them, cut across the paint, and threw up a shot that Jose slapped away. The ball was on the floor and me and Ice went for it. It was going toward the sidelines and I got my fingers on it but Ice slapped it back the other way and was on it in a flash. His whole body was slanting and he was moving across the court. I was a whole step behind him, looking for some help. Glen jumped out as Ice went up. Ice slammed over him and pointed at him as he came down. They were up by one.

  The clock read fifty seconds. Nick was bringing the ball down and I started down the sidelines. Ice put his hand on my chest and started holding, making me fight my way through him.

  Yeah, okay. I went into him, spun around, planted my elbow in his chest, and pushed off toward the hoop. I looked up and saw the ball coming and went up for it. Nick had thrown the ball for the alley-oop but it was off and I had to reach for it. It was on my palm off to the side, and I curled my body as I turned and pushed the ball around their center toward Jose. Jose went up for the layup, took a shot in the mouth, but made that sucker. We were up by one.

  I started downcourt when Trip stopped me. The ref had called a foul on the shot.

  Jose’s mouth was bleeding when he went to the line and his eyes were puffy. He bounced the ball hard.

  “It’s yours, Jose!” Glen called to him.

  The coach had give us a saying when we were on the line. Heels up, knees bent, soft shot, red hot. Jose’s heels were up, he bent his knees, and put the ball up. It took forever to reach the rim but it fell through. We were up by a deuce.

  Their center brought the ball down. Ice was deep and I thought he was going to try to post me. The center passed the ball off to Fletcher. Ice popped out and got the quick pass. He pointed at me, made a move to his left, changed direction once, twice, and then did a stutter step which got my feet turned. He flew by me and went for the hoop. I started to go for the stop but I didn’t want to foul him. I brought both hands back so the ref could see that I didn’t foul him as he tied the score.

  There were fourteen seconds left.

  Trip brought the ball down for us. I told myself not to look at the clock. I looked. There were nine seconds left when the ball came across the midcourt line. Ice had his hands on me again. I leaned on him and he spread his legs to keep me from pushing him away. The spin didn’t shake him and I saw Fletcher double-team Trip. Trip tried passing to Nick but their center slapped the ba
ll back. Ice had released me when the ball was on the floor, so when Nick grabbed it and threw it over his shoulder I was free. I had to jump for the pill and when I came down Ice was in my face and going for the pill. I faked a jump and he slapped the ball. Not hard enough. I held onto it and went up for the jumper. The ball was on my palm over my head with my elbow pointed toward the rim and my wrist cocked. Somebody grabbed my shirt at the waist as I started the shot. It felt like my shoulder was coming out of the socket as I felt myself being pulled down. My fingers touched Ice’s fingers in midair as the ball floated over him. The next thing I knew I was on the floor and Nick was on top of me screaming and pounding me with his fists. We had won!

  The teams shook hands and Ice was cool. He put his arm around my neck and we had our pictures taken together. We were homies, and everything was everything between us, but I had won.

  “You want to party tonight?” he asked as the teams were headed for the locker room.

  “Where you going to party?”

  “My crib. I’ll call you,” he said. “You going to be home?”

  “Tired as I am? Best believe it.”

  “You came out smoking today,” he said. “I didn’t think you could get that serious.”

  “Nothing beats a try,” I said.

  “Call you tonight.”

  “Bet.”

  In the locker room the guys were going crazy. Two girls from the band were in there and five teachers, including Miss Fowell. They were hugging us and stuff.

  The thought came to me that we had won, and maybe they wouldn’t have been there if we had lost. Maybe that was something to think about for the off-court game, too.

  Ducky came over and poured a cup of soda over my head. That was a stupid-butt thing to do, but I was so happy to win it didn’t make a bit of difference.