We played Tech and ate them up. No contest. Cleo brought the ball down the court near the end of the game and went around Tomas with a crossover dribble. I anticipated the whole thing and went up and knocked his shot away and everybody goofed on that. Then, when I had the ball, I came down, put a move on Cleo that left him standing in his tracks, and went up for the slam. Cleo recovered, came back, and got my stuff from the back. I tried to force the ball through the hoop, but he just pulled me down to the floor with one huge hand.
“How you like that, pretty boy?” he said.
After the game Sky got on my case, asking me why I changed my mind when I went for the slam.
“That must be a new kind of move, man,” he said. “Bring the ball up, get a mean look on your face, and then come down to the floor and grin!”
“Anytime you’re up against some real players, somebody is going to throw your stuff away,” I said. “He just got mine.”
Wednesday practice. Of all the practice sessions we went through, the one everybody hated most is the OK Corral drill. Everybody except Fletch. He was the one who dreamed the sucker up, and we had to hear his lecture every time we ran it.
“Every game you play, there are six times when you’re supposed to get an easy basket under the bucket and somebody throws it away,” he said. “If you throw the ball too soft, you let everybody make a grab for it. If you throw it too hard, you’re going to throw it out-of-bounds or somebody is going to miss it so’s it goes out-of-bounds. You have to learn to catch the ball and throw it short distances to recover those six easy shots.”
We stood in threes in the paint a few feet from the boards, six feet apart, making two passes as fast as we could before going for the layup without putting the ball on the floor. I was with Needham and Tomas. Needham couldn’t catch a cool breeze in an igloo, but Tomas had good hands. We worked on short passes for twenty minutes before House let us go.
Most of the team started toward the shower, but I saw House stop Tomas and Abdul and point them back onto the court. Fletch was waiting with a basketball under the basket. I sat down to see what they were going to do.
What was happening was that Fletch was working with Tomas. He was using Abdul as the defensive player. I watched as he pulled out the tape and made an X on the floor with it. Position play. For the next twenty minutes Fletch worked with Tomas, passing the ball in to him from the top of the key or from the sideline to either side of the X, making him move to the X in one dribble and then go for the shot.
He did it over and over, with Fletch yelling at him, telling him when he was doing it wrong, telling him when his feet were too slow or he was bringing the ball too low.
“Make them stop your strongest move!”
I watched as Tomas moved his wide body through the lane, pivoting on the tape and going for the basket. Tomas did it over and over again. Pulling the ball closer to his chest when Fletch told him to chin it, extending his arms when Fletch told him to get bigger, shaking his head when Fletch asked him if he was getting tired.
I felt sick. I felt angry. Not just anger, but a rage coming up in me. I wanted to stand up and walk away, but as tight as my arms felt, as huge as my chest felt, my legs were weak.
I thought Fletch was supposed to be on my side. Why was he talking to me softly and then building up Tomas?
I looked around, sure that I would find House gloating somewhere, leaning against the tiled walls, but he wasn’t anywhere in the gym. It was just Tomas and Abdul and Fletch, and me standing on the side feeling my guts ache.
As they walked off the court, I saw that Abdul was dripping in sweat. Tomas’s legs, heavy and white and hairy, moved like tree stumps toward the locker room. Fletch stopped a few feet from me. I looked up at him. I didn’t have enough saliva in my mouth to spit.
“How you feeling, Drew?” he asked.
“I see you’re working with the white boy,” I said.
“What do you want, Drew?” Fletch looked at me. “You want to get over by having him fall down? That what you want?”
“Get out my face!” I said.
Fletch stepped closer to me. “What you going to do, Drew? You going to hit me? Is that what you want to do?” he asked. “Because if you want to give up your game altogether, that’s the way to do it. Raise your hands and see how far your anger gets you.”
We glared at each other for a long time; then he pivoted on one foot and walked away
Game day. When Powell came to our gym, I was feeling down. What I wished was that I could jump up and hit somebody, just do a real beat down on the world and get it out of my system. I knew what Fletch had said was real, but I was feeling so frustrated, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Maybe for the first time in my life I didn’t want to play ball.
Powell had Donald Hand and this tough-shooting Italian guy, Frankie Corsetto. If Donald brought his mind to the game, he’d be real good. What he does bring his mind to is being a thug. The word on the street is that he took money from shorties and did some boosting down on 1-2-5. You can stop Frankie if you foul him a lot because he doesn’t like to get hit and will throw up only treys if you bang him.
I felt sluggish, and everything I did was wrong. The first time I got the ball, I traveled. The next time I got it, I threw up an air ball. Meanwhile, Frankie is going around me and I’m trying to hit him but he’s making me look bad and House sits me.
At the end of the first quarter they’re up by six, but we come back, with me sitting on the bench, and at the half it’s all tied. I was mad and feeling bad at the same time. It was like my whole life was going down the drain.
We came out with four minutes left in the intermission and ran a few layups before the start of the second half. The whole team was down, and Sky’s Hollywood pep talk wasn’t doing anything to help. By the end of the third quarter we were losing by seven. I had started the second half, but House had me on the bench again.
I watched Tomas play. He and Ruffy were both working deep, changing the game, making Powell play in unfamiliar territory. I thought about the X that Fletch had made on the floor. For the first time Tomas was leading the scoring.
We got into the last quarter, and Sky fouled out with four minutes to play and us behind by five. House looked at the bench and called Needham’s number.
“No, man!” Ernie got into House’s face. “Bring Drew in! I don’t want to lose this game!”
“Don’t tell me how to run this team!” House pushed Ernie away.
Fletch stepped between House and Ernie and whispered something in House’s ear.
Whatever Fletch said pissed House off, because he gave him the hardest look I had ever seen.
House didn’t say anything. He pointed to me and made a thumbing motion to the floor.
Fletch came over to me. “Don’t disappoint yourself, Drew,” he said.
I checked the time. Four minutes and two seconds. I knew I had to bust it big-time.
One of their men was on the foul line for a one-and-one. He made both shots, which put them up seven. I brought the ball down with Ernie and watched Ruffy come out for the high pick. He wanted me to go around Frankie. I faked left and ducked in toward the pick. Somehow Frankie got past Ruffy and was on my case when I hit the paint. Their center was already sliding over when I went up. Their big man wasn’t that good, but he got all ball and slapped my shot away. The ref blew the whistle and signaled foul.
Their coach jumped up but it didn’t do any good. I still got the shots and made them both. Back down to five.
They tried slowing the game, but we pressed them and got a close-guarding call and possession. Ernie threw up a three that banged off the rim, and Ruffy got the bound and threw it to Tomas. Tomas looked around and threw the ball out, almost giving it back, and we set up again.
This time Ernie cut across the middle, passed to Tomas, who handed it off to Ruffy, who made the layup.
They made a deuce on a short jumper and we cut it to three again on a long pass to Ernie from R
uffy when the guy guarding him fell asleep or something.
With a minute and five seconds left, Frankie brought the ball down again and passed it to Donald. Donald cut across the top of the key and got past Ernie, but Ruffy cracked him in his ribs with a righteous elbow. He doubled up for a moment and then told Ruffy what he was going to do to him after the game. That was a joke, because nobody messed with Ruffy without a piece.
Donald missed the first half of the one-and-one and I copped the bound. We flew downcourt and I found myself one-on-one with Donald. I gave him a head fake to the left, then went to the left and almost by him when he hit me. The ball rolled off my fingertips, against the backboard, rolled on the rim, and fell through.
I was standing on the foul line when I realized that the ref hadn’t called a foul.
We were still trailing by one and they had the ball. Frankie held one finger up. I glanced at the clock and saw there was too much time to hold the ball for one shot, so I figured it must be a play. They were spreading the floor, and we were playing tight around the key. I motioned for the guys to go out after the ball. We didn’t want to give them a last shot if they were up, and we didn’t want to give up a late three, either.
Ernie went after Frankie big-time, slapping at the ball with one hand while putting his hand on Frankie’s butt with the other. That messes with a lot of guys, but Frankie didn’t give up the ball, so I left my man and double-teamed him.
Frankie passed the ball behind his back, through me and Ernie, to their center. Donald had slipped around me and could have cut for the deuce, but instead of that he tried to mess with Ruffy, I guess because Ruffy had fouled him before. I caught up with Donald just as their center threw up a sky hook from the foul line. I blocked Donald out and he went over my back, but the ball still came to me.
I passed it out to Ernie and we were heading downcourt. Ruffy got the ball at the foul line, faked a move, and spotted Abdul picking off Tomas’s man. Ruffy passed the ball in, and Donald went toward the board. What happened was that Donald didn’t think he could stop the shot but he was blocking out for the board. The only thing was that Tomas didn’t shoot the ball.
“Shoot!” Ernie shouted.
Tomas froze, looking around. I got to him and snatched the ball from his hand and went up, releasing the ball just as the buzzer sounded. The game was over. I turned as I came down and saw the referee signaling that the basket counted. We had won.
The Chargers were heading off the floor, fists pumping, when I felt something grab my arm. I was off-balance as I was spun around.
“What did you do that for!” It was Tomas.
I had never seen Tomas mad before, but I didn’t care if he was mad or not. I was being cool when I turned away again, and he was being very uncool when he spun me around again.
“I asked you a question!” he yelled into my face. “When I ask you a question, you answer me!”
“Later for you, fool!”
Tomas started toward me again, and Ruffy grabbed him around the waist, lifted him off the ground, and slammed him to the gym floor. He started to get up and Abdul pushed him down again and told him to chill before he got killed.
By this time Fletch and Mr. Barker, who had been at the game, had rushed over and were pushing us toward the locker room.
“C’mon, guys! C’mon!” Mr. Barker was big and strong. “Everybody cool down.”
I didn’t know what was bugging Tomas. We had won. House came over and knelt next to him on the floor. He looked all right to me, and I started toward the locker room.
“What’s his problem?” Ruffy asked.
I shrugged. Tomas seemed to be tripping, but I didn’t know why.
In the shower it was the old team, joking around and talking through the game. Sky found out he had five assists and was making sure that everybody knew that.
“That’s how Telfair got to the NBA,” he said. “He made all those assists in the All-Star Game. You remember that from the DVD?”
House had made sure everybody on the team had the DVD and knew how a street dude from Brooklyn had made it to the NBA by hard work.
Tomas didn’t shower; neither did Colin. They were waiting in House’s office while the team got dressed. House called me and Ruffy in and told us to sit down. Mr. Barker was there too, leaning against the wall, looking good in his gray silk suit and yellow tie.
“I’m thinking of suspending both of you for the last games,” House said. “I think you’re trying to start racial discord on this team.”
“Yeah, I am,” I said. “That’s why I ran up behind him and spun him around and yelled in his face. Or was that him putting his hands on me?”
“Why did you take the ball from me?” Tomas said.
“Because I don’t like guys from Prague,” I said.
“And I don’t like guys from Africa,” Tomas came back. “You think you got all the moves and you’re the only one who can play basketball. But your moves don’t make you the man. I can play as well as you can. I see you and I’m not impressed.”
“Yeah, and you’re all-world, huh?”
“I think everybody should apologize to everybody else and start enjoying the win,” Mr. Barker said. “So why don’t you guys just shake hands and move on?”
“I don’t tolerate fighting on my team,” House said. “I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about this, and I’m the one running this team.”
“We haven’t decided yet,” Mr. Barker said, putting the emphasis on we. “And I’m the one running this school. Right now we’re all going home, or at least we’re going to leave the building.”
House wasn’t happy with that, but we all left.
It was cold as me and Ruffy made our way down into the valley. I thanked him for getting my back.
“I needed to slam somebody anyway,” he said. “Something to talk about instead of Tony.”
“How’s he doing?” I asked.
A skinny dude with crack-shiny eyes stopped us, let us glimpse a watch, and shoved it back into his pocket. “You need a Rolex?” he asked, looking around. “Fifty dollars.”
“Where am I going to get fifty dollars?” Ruffy asked.
“Ten dollars because you look like a right-on brother,” Shiny Eyes said.
“I ain’t got it, my man.” Ruffy held his hands up as we walked by.
“Poor-ass punks!”
“So what you think about Tomas?” I asked as we crossed the street.
“He might have to get his butt kicked to realize this is our hood and not his,” Ruffy said. “When people get stuff handed to them too easy, they think they deserved it.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. Tomas probably figured he was just supposed to get to Baldwin and take over the team.
I got home and Jocelyn was standing on a chair in the kitchen running her mouth. Mom signaled for me to sit down. I didn’t want to, but I did want to hear what Jocelyn was up on the chair for.
“…So, my loyal subjects, I have had to make a difficult and painful decision. Now many of you might wonder why a perfect person like me has to make hard decisions….”
“Jocelyn, say what you have to say, please,” Mom said.
“I have passed the test for Stuyvesant High School and now must decide if I am to remain at Baldwin—”
I put my hands out and Jocelyn slapped me five. Stuyvesant was big-time to math and science nuts, and Jocelyn had wanted to go there ever since she was in the fifth grade, so I knew what “painful” answer she was going to come up with.
Mom listened to the whole speech, smiling and nodding her head just the way Jocelyn knew she would. Later, when Jocelyn came banging on my door—like I knew she would—I asked her to spare me the dramatics.
Jocelyn said, “As I was saying to Mae Jamison the other day—you know me and her are like this?”
“You and the first black woman astronaut? I should have known it.”
“Yeah, anyway, I was telling Mae that I was ready to take my place in the spac
e program. And I’m starting at Stuyvesant.”
“Why don’t you launch yourself from your room?” I asked.
She gave me a wink as she left. The girl was okay.
It was almost ten o’clock when Mom opened the door and told me that there was a phone call for me.
“It’s that boy who came here that day,” she said.
When I got to the phone, I heard Tomas and somebody, probably his mother, talking in some foreign language. I listened for a while but I couldn’t understand anything, so I said hello.
“Hello, this is Tomas Dvorski,” he said.
“Tell him you’re sorry,” I heard his mother say in the background.
“Why you take the ball from me?” he asked.
“Time was running out,” I said. “Why didn’t you shoot the ball?”
“I was waiting for the last second,” Tomas said. “Then you took the ball.”
“Hey, we won,” I said.
“You don’t do that again or I won’t play with you,” he said.
“Say you’re sorry!” came again in the background.
“Don’t play,” I said. “I don’t care.” Then I hung up.
“What was that all about?” Mom asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
Tomas had me pissed. Anytime anybody gets really mad at me, it makes me really mad at them, too. In a way I could dig where he was coming from, because I did take the ball from him. But I didn’t think he was waiting for the last minute. His inside game wasn’t all that hot, so his shot wasn’t going to be a sure thing and he had to know it. The dude just froze. Still, he wanted the chance and I knew where that was coming from. He was talking from his gut, and I was down with that.
Lying across my bed, I was thinking about Tomas’s mother telling him to apologize. He was mad at me because he thought I was dissing his game, and I was mad at House because I thought he was dissing my game. Something had gone down between Fletch and House during the game, and they were dealing with each other. It was like everybody had their own thing going and it all mattered big-time but it was all different.
Game Page 8
