Game Changers--A Benchwarmers Novel

by John Feinstein

  Jeff called Saturday morning to see if she wanted to go out for a celebratory pizza. There was, he pointed out, lots to celebrate. She asked for a rain check until the following Saturday. She was exhausted from the events of the week—even though everything had turned out well. Better than well.

  All of a sudden, they had gone from their season appearing to be over to feeling as if they could beat anyone they might play in the conference. They were now 4–2 with six games left and trailed just two teams—Haverford and Radnor. They would play Haverford to end the season and they had just beaten Radnor at home on Friday. A lost season had become a promising season.

  Even more important, it had become fun.

  Coach Dunphy had changed the lineup to start the five best players and make sure they got the most minutes, but he had managed to keep everyone involved. Those who had been starters and were now coming in off the bench didn’t mind. They were still getting playing time and the team was winning.

  What’s more, the better they played, the more they proved that they had been right about Coach Josephson—certainly on the court. Of course, it was unfair to compare a sixth-grade gym teacher to a possible future Hall of Fame coach. Still, the changes he’d made weren’t that complicated and he had seen his team practice exactly once before making those changes.

  Andi wasn’t surprised that she had played better once she wasn’t looking over her shoulder constantly, but she was a little surprised at how good a player Lisa Carmichael was now that she too was getting to play more minutes. Lisa had long arms and was very quick getting off her feet. She was actually a better rebounder than Eleanor, even though Eleanor was a couple of inches taller than she was.

  Maria Medley was much more effective at point guard, because when her quickness forced a double-team, she had multiple choices on where to go with the ball. No longer was Eleanor the only consistent scorer on the court.

  Jamie Bronson, freed of the need to try to be a second scorer, was a natural at doing the little things that needed doing: guarding the other team’s best inside player to help keep Eleanor out of foul trouble; keeping the ball alive on the boards so that Lisa or Eleanor could get to it; setting hard screens that were almost impossible to get around.

  There was no doubt the seven bench players weren’t as good as the first five, but Coach Dunphy was able to spot them into the game, almost always keeping at least three starters on the floor. That way the team might dip a little bit on offense, but very little on defense. He was also a master of changing defenses. He spent almost an entire practice one day teaching the girls the art of the zone trap. That meant Merion could play man-to-man, straight zone, or trap—full-court or half-court. It became almost impossible for an opponent to get into any kind of offensive rhythm.

  What had been a bad team in December became a very good team as the calendar turned to February. Andi went from dreading practice every day to looking forward to it. Basketball practice wasn’t just fun, it was a learning experience.

  As they walked off the court one afternoon, Jamie threw an arm around Andi. “You know, we all owe you, Carillo,” she said. “If not for you, I think—I know—we’d have all just suffered our way through the season with Coach Josephson and figured there was nothing we could do about it. No matter how we finish up, this has been fun. Winning makes everything more fun, but it’s all been fun.”

  She paused and her voice choked just a little when she said, “Thank you for that.”

  Andi gave her a hug. It was amazing how far they had come since those first practices.

  When she told Jeff what had happened, he laughed and said, “You could write a book about your year in the sixth grade.”

  Andi nodded. “I could write two,” she answered.

  “Yeah,” he said. “And just think, the basketball’s season’s not even over yet.”

  37

  The winning streak that the Merion sixth-grade girls’ team began when Fran Dunphy became the coach was easy to understand. The winning streak the boys started at the same time was harder to explain.

  Except that, somehow, Ron Arlow’s outburst on TV seemed to have a calming effect on the entire team. Arlow losing his captaincy seemed to make everyone feel better about what was going on in the locker room. And Coach C’s decision to bench him, starting Jeff at the point and then bringing Arlow in for brief spurts, at either the point—when Jeff was rested—or at the shooting guard spot next to Jeff, clearly worked well.

  Jeff knew that Arlow couldn’t stand the new setup: he was accustomed to being the star and the captain, not a sixth man—a valuable one, but still a sixth man. The stars of the team now were Jeff, Tavon Washington, and Danny Diskin. With Arlow’s minutes limited and Jeff controlling the offense most of the time, Washington and Diskin were seeing the ball a lot more and were taking full advantage.

  What’s more, Merion was a much better defensive team with Arlow not playing. After Jeff’s buzzer-beating shot against King of Prussia, they had gotten on a run, reeling off six more wins to get to 9–2 in the conference with one game to play. The girls had done the exact same thing. In fact, they were 7–0 under Coach Dunphy and also 9–2 in the conference with one game to play.

  Both would finish their seasons against Haverford: the boys at home, the girls on the road. The girls were one game behind the Squirrels, but the winner of the finale would win the conference title, since Merion had beaten Haverford early in the season and would have the tiebreaker by virtue of sweeping the two games between the schools. The boys were also one game behind and needed to win to tie for the conference title. The tiebreakers were more complicated on their side, since the two schools would split if Merion won the rematch.

  What made things even more difficult, though, was Michael Jordan.

  Jordan was the reason that, after Merion had traveled to Narberth and won easily to get to 9–2 and set up the showdown with Haverford, Coach C began practice the next day by asking his players not to go through shooting drills, but to sit on the bleachers.

  A little puzzled, they all complied.

  “We have a decision to make,” he said. “And I do mean we, because Coach B and I have talked about this and we agree this is something all of you need to be on board with, if we’re going to do it.”

  Jeff was completely puzzled.

  “Look, fellas, we all saw Jordan play six weeks ago,” he said. “I think all the attention and publicity he’s been receiving is ridiculous—unfair to him, really, because to heap all of that on a twelve-year-old is just not right. He can be the greatest kid in the world and it’s going to impact him. It has to.

  “My guess is, if you guys play basketball all through college, you probably won’t face someone as talented as he is. Calling a twelve-year-old a ‘can’t miss’ player is stupid. Heck, he might not grow another inch. He might get hurt or all the attention might go to his head. But he’s about as close to ‘can’t miss’ at this age as anyone I’ve ever seen, and I have a close friend who saw the real Michael Jordan in high school and reminded me that he didn’t make varsity as a sophomore.”

  Jeff had read about that, how getting sent to the JV team had fueled Jordan throughout his career. It did not appear as if that would be a problem for Little MJ.

  “I know I’m not telling you guys anything you don’t already know. So here’s my question: We played them about as straight-up as we possibly could have the first time and, as we all agreed afterward, we had no chance.

  “We can do that again. We’re a better team now than we were then and maybe we can slow Jordan down just enough to have a chance to steal the game. I’ve talked to some other coaches and they say the best thing about him is if you try to double-team him or triple-team him, he’s happy to set up his teammates. That’s why he’s averaging a triple-double—points, rebounds, assists playing about twenty minutes a game.

  “I don’t think they’re unbeatable, I really don’t. But I’m wondering if we shouldn’t try something different, something th
at might throw him—and them—off-balance.”

  He looked around for a moment as if waiting for someone to say something. Someone did: Danny Diskin. “What have you got in mind, Coach?”

  “Hold the ball,” Coach C said. “There’s no shot clock at our level. We can spend the next two days working on a spread offense. I actually talked to Coach Dunphy about this over the weekend. We’re good passers and good ball handlers, especially when we have Michaels and Arlow on the court together, which I know we haven’t done much lately. But we have to be ready for them to trap—especially Jordan. He loves to float in the passing lanes looking for steals. And if we get behind, we have to scrap the idea and play straight-up as best we can.”

  “Coach, isn’t that kind of a cowardly way to try to play?”

  It was Arlow.

  “Not an unreasonable question, Arlow. How many of you here have heard of Dean Smith?”

  About half the hands went up—Jeff’s being one of them; Arlow’s not.

  “Dean Smith coached at North Carolina for thirty-six years—won eight hundred and seventy-nine games. Coached the real Michael Jordan, as a matter of fact. He was famous for an offense called ‘the Four Corners,’ where he put one player in the middle and had him dribble the ball until double-teamed and then pass to the open player to kill the clock when he had a lead.

  “This was before there was a shot clock. He even tried it at the start of a game against Duke once, held the ball for fifteen minutes with his team down two to zero.”

  “What happened?” Tavon Washington asked.

  “They were down seven zip at the half and lost. But he was willing to try it because he thought it was the best way to win the game.”

  “Bet he never did it when Jordan played for him,” Arlow said.

  Coach C grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that, Arlow,” he said. “As a matter of fact, he did: ACC Championship game in 1982. UNC was up two early in the second half and Virginia was playing a zone with Ralph Sampson, who was seven-four, at the back of it. UNC held the ball for fifteen minutes trying to pull Virginia out of the zone.”

  “Who won?” Russ Ramsey asked.

  “North Carolina—by two. People still point to that game as the one that convinced people it was time for a shot clock. So, if a team with Michael Jordan was willing to hold the ball like that, is there anything wrong with a team playing against Michael Jordan holding it?”

  Jeff stood up. He was, after all, the team captain. “I say we try it,” he said.

  Danny Diskin raised his hand. “Agree.” A chorus of voices followed him, all agreeing.

  Coach C turned to Arlow. “Ron, you’ll be an important part of this, but if you’re uncomfortable with it, you don’t have to play. It’s your call.”

  “I’m good with it, Coach,” Arlow said. Jeff was pretty sure Coach C saying he’d be an important part of it helped Arlow make his decision.

  “Okay,” Coach C said. “Let’s get going. We’ve got a lot of work to do the next two days.”

  * * *

  Andi couldn’t help but notice that the boys’ team was running some funny kind of offense when she came into the gym a few minutes before the end of their practice to be ready when it was the girls’ turn to take the court.

  Jeff was handling the ball in the middle of the court, almost as if he were putting on some kind of dribbling exhibition. The other four players were standing in what looked like a box formation around the court. As soon as one player left his man to double-team Jeff, he would pick the ball up and throw it to the open man. Then he would race in the direction of the player with the ball, get it back, and start the dribbling exhibition again.

  It was weird.

  As the boys came off the court, Jeff jogged past her and said, “I’ll tell you later.” She saw Coach Crist stop to talk to Coach Dunphy for a moment. Coach Dunphy was doing most of the talking.

  Andi had been baffled initially when Haverford began plowing through teams as the conference season unfolded. The Squirrels had been, without doubt, the worst team they had faced before winter recess. Merion had beaten them badly even with Coach Josephson still playing her silly games with the lineup.

  What she hadn’t known was that Haverford’s two best players had been injured at the time. According to Maria, who seemed to know someone on every team in the city, their center, Helen Bjorn, and their point guard, Alana Faroh-Wantu, had recovered from their injuries during winter recess. They had beaten Bryn Mawr Tech before Christmas and hadn’t lost since their two stars had returned, meaning they were 10–1 and in first place, one game ahead of Merion.

  “Imagine us without Eleanor and me,” Maria had said in explaining how good Bjorn and Faroh-Wantu were. “They were both born overseas—Bjorn in Denmark, Faroh-Wantu in Ghana. Bjorn is about six feet tall; Faroh-Wantu is about my size. I’m told they can both play.”

  Andi knew worrying about how good Haverford might be was a waste of time. The only thing that was important was beating them. If they could do that, win the title and make the playoffs, she’d be happy. Beyond happy. If not, well, she was still happy because the last few weeks had been so much fun. She just didn’t want to be too happy.

  They still had one game left that they needed to win.

  38

  Before they entered the gym at Haverford to warm up, Coach Dunphy stood in front of his players.

  “This may or may not be the last time we’re together as a team,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you all—win or lose today—how much I’ve enjoyed these last few weeks. I started out doing this as a favor to an old friend and to help you guys out because I thought you deserved it. It’s ended up being one of the more enjoyable experiences of my career. That’s because of all of you.”

  Jamie stood up and said, “Coach, how about taking over the varsity teams next year?”

  They all laughed and Coach Dunphy said, “You’ve got a great varsity coach.”

  “Maybe you could be her assistant?” Andi asked.

  Coach Dunphy smiled. “Now, that might be a possibility.”

  They all had smiles on their faces when they went out to warm up. That good feeling lasted right until tip-off, when Bjorn out-leaped Eleanor for the tip and directed the ball right into the hands of a streaking Faroh-Wantu in what was clearly a set play. Faroh-Wantu was past Maria before Maria could take a step and went in for an uncontested layup.

  Fun time was over.

  It was 8–0 before Coach Dunphy called time to settle his team down. “Hey, we knew they were going to be good,” he said. He looked Eleanor in the eye. “Do you think the Bjorn kid is better than you, Eleanor?”

  “No, sir, I don’t.”

  “Fine, then quit playing like you’re scared of her.”

  He looked at Maria. “How about you, Maria? Is that little point guard better than you are?”

  “No, sir, she’s not.”

  “Same thing: Play like it.”

  Finally, he pointed at Andi.

  “You’ve had two open shots and passed them up, Carillo. You afraid to shoot?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Fine. Then shoot. You’re the best shooter out there on either team. Funny thing, though, you can’t score if you don’t shoot.”

  He stared around the huddle as the horn sounded and one of the officials poked her head into the huddle. “Gotta get ’em out, coach.”

  Coach Dunphy put his hand into the middle of the huddle and everyone jumped to put their hands in, too.

  “Play like champions!” he said, and they all repeated the three words.

  It was the first time that Coach Dunphy had really gone after the players since he’d taken over. Of course, it was the first time he’d really needed to go after them.

  Maria brought the ball down, raced behind a high-ball screen from Jamie Bronson and, as the defense came to her, quickly reversed the ball to Andi, who was wide-open. She was practically into her shooting motion as she caught the ball. It swished—for three�
��and Merion was on the board.

  “Here we go,” Andi said as she backtracked to set up on defense. “Here we go.”

  * * *

  Coach Dunphy’s words clearly calmed the Mustangs down, and they began playing like the team that had won seven straight games—most easily—since his arrival. The Squirrels’ lead was down to 14–10 at the end of the first quarter. Both coaches gave their starters a rest in the second quarter because the pace of the game was fast and the intensity was building. The Haverford gym was packed—a lot of fans had come up from Merion, and there had been some Temple fans following the Mustangs since Coach Dunphy’s arrival—so it was loud. Also, hot. The weather outside was unseasonably warm for late February—midfifties. It was 25–22, Haverford still up at halftime.

  “This is exactly the kind of game we expected, isn’t it?” Coach Dunphy asked during the break. “We don’t need to do anything fancy, just keep doing what we’ve been doing since it was 8–0. Any questions?”

  There were none. The season had come down to twelve minutes of basketball. You couldn’t ask for much more than that.

  The second half began with Eleanor pitching the ball to Andi out of a double-team and Andi drilling her third three of the game to tie the score at 25–25. Then, after a Haverford miss, Maria found Lisa on a sweet backdoor cut, and for the first time all day, Merion led. It was 27–25.

  It was the Haverford coach’s turn to call time to calm her players. It worked. A three by Faroh-Wantu put the Squirrels back in the lead at 28–27. The game seesawed. Neither coach went to the bench to start the fourth quarter. This wasn’t the time to rest. There would be plenty of time for that after the game—especially for the losers.