Play Makers

by Mike Lupica

  Ben went hard after Chase, had no chance to catch up, watched from the top of the key as he buried the jumper. Then walked over toward the Rams’ bench, slapping his thigh hard with his right hand.

  “I should have passed it to you,” Ben said.

  “No,” Shawn said. “Baby jumper, right side, we’d want you taking that every time.”

  “Chase seemed pretty happy with my shot selection,” Ben said.

  Coop said, “Dude, that’s the only shot of yours he got the whole half. No worries, we got this today.”

  “You know how much it always chafes me to say this,” Sam said, “but Coop’s right. We showed that we can play with those guys. And with that guy.”

  After they’d all gotten their drinks, Coach Wright talked about all the good things he’d seen from them, starting with the way they’d fought back after another bad start. Then he went through his personal checklist, all the things he stressed at practice, about sharing the ball, focusing on their next stop.

  “We could’ve folded up like a cheap suit,” Coach said, and Ben could see Sam and Coop smiling at him.

  Coach had a colorful way of talking. They were studying metaphors in English right now, and Ben knew enough about them to know that Coach was constantly mixing his. The other day he had been talking about a game he’d been watching on television and said he got interested even though he didn’t have a horse in that fight.

  “But we didn’t fold,” Coach continued, “and that’s why I’m now seeing the team I expect us to be. Just keep playing hard and having fun.” Smiling up at them as he said, “Which are one and the same as far as I’m concerned.”

  As they went out to start the second half, Sam leaned close to Ben and said, “Where did Coach get a crazy idea like that, having fun against the hated Chase?”

  Ben said, “I don’t hate Chase.”

  Shawn was behind them. “Well I’m starting to hate him. The guy doesn’t let you get comfortable on defense for a second. It’s like he can see everything, even when he’s looking the other way.”

  “Let’s just have him see us get a W,” Ben said. “See how comfortable he is with that.”

  “I hear that,” Shawn said.

  It was 47–41, Darby, at the end of the third. Both coaches had done a lot of substituting in the quarter, both making sure everybody on their teams got to play. But when they went out to start the fourth quarter, Ben could see the Darby coach, Mr. Coppo, going with his starters, same as the Rams were.

  Rams ball, side out, Chase next to Ben on the court, waiting for the ref to hand the ball to Darrelle.

  “Well, now it’s on,” Chase said.

  Ben didn’t respond.

  “Don’t want to talk?” Chase said.

  “After the game,” Ben said.

  Chase gave Ben a little pat on his back and said, “Well, if you still want to.”

  The crowd was a lot bigger this Saturday, maybe because the game did count, and so the noise from the parents seemed to build as the game stayed close, and kept building to what Ben was sure was going to be a great ending.

  Wanting to make sure it was the right one for the Rams.

  There was even a moment, Shawn and Darby’s Ryan Hurley on the ground fighting for a loose ball, when Ben thought they might really go at it, neither one of them willing to take his hands off the ball. But Sam and Coop pulled Shawn up and away from Ryan — Shawn having finally ripped the ball away — before things turned stupid.

  Shawn, breathing hard, said, “We are totally coming away with the W.”

  Darby led by a point, 57–56, with a minute left. Down the stretch, Chase had seemed perfectly willing to pass the ball every time the Rams tried to collapse on him, had only taken two shots that Ben could remember the whole fourth quarter, making both of them.

  But now, at the Rockwell end, Sam lost his man on a switch, Ben threw him a perfect bounce pass, Sam made a jumper from the right corner. The Rams were ahead, 58–57. First lead of the game for them, first lead of the new season.

  Chase came right back, came right at Sam, got a step, seemed to slow down like he was about to pass again, got Shawn — who’d jumped out on him — to relax just enough before Chase blew past him for a layup.

  For most of the game, it seemed to Ben as if the guy had kept his showboating to a minimum. He still found ways to draw attention to himself, like he couldn’t help it. He’d just been less annoying so far today.

  Even if he was still annoyingly good.

  But now it all seemed to kick back in for him, he took a wide route back on defense so he could slap Mr. Coppo a low five, then pointed with both index fingers at his parents.

  Forty seconds left, Darby back up by a point.

  Ben held up a fist as he brought the ball up. It wasn’t a play so much as a trigger, his sign to Sam to come up to the top of the key for a high pick-and-roll. Not a set play as much as the outline for one. But always the best way for them to get into their offense, Coach Wright trusting Ben enough to let him decide where the play should go, what they had, once Sam set his pick.

  Sam set a beauty now and, as soon as he did, Chase yelled, “Switch!” and jumped out on him. Sam still knew enough to run around him and then cut toward the basket, Chase backing up with him, watching Ben’s eyes as he did.

  And Ben purposely kept his eyes on Sam as he kept dribbling, waiting until Shawn came around the pick Coop had set for him on the baseline. When Shawn cleared the pick, Ben fired a pass to him and watched as Shawn turned and made a short, no-sweat jumper, like he was still shooting around during pregame warm-ups.

  Rockwell by a point, twenty seconds left, the gym louder than it had been all afternoon, everybody on their feet, Mr. Coppo making no move to get up or call a time-out, putting the game in Chase’s hands.

  Letting his guys play.

  Ben picked up Chase in the backcourt, trying to get him to burn a few extra seconds having to deal with Ben, hoping to make him rush a little once he got the ball past midcourt. But Chase spun away from him, pushed the ball hard up the sideline, Ben scrambling to get in front of him.

  Seeing Chase smiling as he did.

  Like he’d waited all day to get here.

  Ben saw Chase’s eyes go to the clock. Ben followed his gaze.

  Fifteen seconds.

  Chase waved his left arm now, telling his teammates to clear out. So it was him against Ben.

  Ten seconds now.

  Chase started backing him in then. The way Ben had told Sam to back him in at McBain the day before. Still not rushing, taking his time, not looking for a clock himself. Like the clock was one more thing he could see without looking.

  Backing Ben toward the low blocks.

  Ben tried to reach around him for the ball, but didn’t come close, Chase blocking him with his free arm just as he went into his shot, turning and shooting in one motion, falling away just slightly, putting up the soft jumper that won the first game of the season for Darby.

  This time Chase didn’t just hold his shooting pose, he turned with his right hand high and pointed at the scoreboard:

  Visitor 61, Home 60.

  And even as his teammates ran for him, Chase still wasn’t quite done. Almost like he’d left himself just enough time to get off one more shot, not over Ben this time, but right in his face.

  Taking a long step forward, smiling that cocky smile, leaning down so that only Ben could hear, saying:

  “You actually think you can stop me, little man?”

  Lily had been at the game, and when it was over she told Ben they needed to walk into town for ice cream, Lily Wyatt always believing that ice cream could cure just about anything wrong in your world, or the whole world.

  “What if I said I didn’t want any company right now, or ice cream?” Ben said.

  “You’d be wrong,” Lily said. “You know you want both.”

  Sam and Coop and Shawn and the rest of the players were tearing into the snacks that Mrs. Manley had brought, cooki
es and brownies and chips and Gatorade. Ben and Lily were sitting at the top of the bleachers, just the two of them.

  Chase and the Darby players were already gone, even though the scoreboard was still lit, still had the final score on it.

  “I really don’t feel like it,” Ben said.

  “Well, now you’re just being plain old silly.”

  Coop yelled up from the court that he and Sam were going to Shawn’s house to play video games, maybe throw a football around on the cool turf field his dad had built for him behind their house. Ben told them to go ahead, maybe he’d check them later, for now he was going to hang with Lily.

  “See how easy that was?” Lily said.

  “Let me just go tell my parents we’re going into town.”

  Lily said, “I already did.”

  When they were outside, Ben told Lily what Chase had said to him after making his shot to win the game.

  “You believe that?” he said.

  “Oh, it doesn’t sound so terrible to me,” she said. “You make it sound like he stole your bike or something.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “You know how guys trash-talk each other during games.” She pounded her chest a couple of times and then in a deep, caveman voice she said, “Me good. You bad.”

  Ben said, “You’re telling me you think it’s okay?”

  “Well, as okay as boys being boys can ever be.”

  Smiling as she did.

  “I don’t recall you ever acting like that when you scored a game-winning goal in soccer.”

  “But you know what?” Lily said, “I want to sometimes. You’re telling me that you never do?”

  “I might want to,” Ben said, “but I never do.”

  It was only a short walk from Rockwell Middle School into town. They were passing the YMCA now, Ben feeling a sudden urge to tell Lily he’d decided to pass on getting ice cream after all, wanting to go inside his dad’s Y and see if there was a free basket in one of the gyms.

  Instead he said to her, “No matter how much I might want to pound my chest when my team wins, I don’t. C’mon, Lils, you know that’s not the way I think you’re supposed to act.”

  “But, see, that’s the thing, not everybody thinks the same way you do,” Lily said. “And I gotta tell you, McBain, it would be pretty boring if they did.”

  “Now I’m boring?”

  “Nope. Maybe a tad sensitive, I’m thinking. Never boring. And neither is Chase.”

  “What’s Chase got to do with this?”

  “Practically everything?” Lily said.

  “Are you asking or telling?” Ben asked. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell with you.”

  “Hey, I just think he’s fun to watch,” she said. “Remember, when I first heard about him, I thought he sounded like he might be a pretty cool rival for you. And that was before I saw him play. Now that I have seen him play, I’m positive he’s going to be a totally cool rival for you.”

  Ben said, “So I’m boring and he’s cool and fun. Got it.”

  “Now you really are being silly,” Lily said. “I’m just saying that the two of you going up against each other this season can be cool and fun. Mostly because you’re so different. Like when you got me to watch that movie about Bird and Magic, that’s what I came away with, how different they were, and not just because of the way they played. Magic was all smiles all the time and Larry Bird, he was so serious you wondered if he ever smiled.”

  Ben made a motion like he was checking something off an invisible list.

  “Check,” he said. “I’m also too serious.”

  Lily poked him with her elbow so he could see her smiling at him again. “Usually? No. Lately. Yes!”

  Ben said, “I can’t believe you like that guy.”

  “I like watching him play,” she said. “I like watching you play. And I’m not gonna lie to you, Big Ben, but I can’t wait until the next time you two play against each other.” She put out her hands, like he was going to cuff her, said, “There, I’ve confessed, take me away, Officer.”

  Ben didn’t want a rematch with Chase right now. But he did want to be playing. Alone. On the court at McBain. Wanted that more than ice cream, more than being with Lily. But he knew if he told her that, she’d start in all over again about him being too serious.

  When she thought he was acting like that, she called him the king of the non-smilers.

  Ben said, “I’m glad you find this all so hilarious.”

  “Oh, lighten up, McBain,” she said, “you know I’m not really busting on you.”

  “Glad we cleared that up.”

  Lily said, “Do you want my honest opinion about Chase?”

  Back to Chase. It was as if he were going for ice cream with them.

  “Do I have a choice?” Ben said.

  Lily said, “I honestly think you should look at him as a fun challenge, and not act like even the idea of playing against him is worse than having your TV privileges taken away.”

  Ben didn’t say anything right away, both of them waiting for the light to change at the corner of Main and Elm, and so Lily finally said, “Well?”

  “You’re right,” he said.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope, Lils, you are right. So thank you.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  He didn’t think she was right. Not even close. He couldn’t believe Lily — of all people — didn’t believe the guy was out of line for chirping on Ben after the game. Couldn’t believe she thought this hot dog was fun to watch. But he knew that if he didn’t drop the subject, drop it right now, she was going to think he was even more fixed on Chase. Or more sensitive on the subject than she already thought he was. Basically Ben just wanted the conversation to be over now. So he ended it in a way that had always worked for him in the past. Or almost always worked. Ben’s dad joked sometimes, even in front of Ben’s mom, that the most important words in the English language for any guy were these:

  “You’re right, dear.”

  “I gotta chill on Chase or it’s going to be a long season.” Ben said.

  They crossed Main Street and walked through the door to Two Scoops, sat down at the counter, and both ordered banana splits, Lily announcing that there would be no more talk about Chase Braggs or the Rockwell-Darby game for the rest of the afternoon.

  But while they waited for their ice cream, Ben was still thinking about Chase. Thinking that it really was like the guy had made the walk into town with them, almost like they should have ordered something for him.

  It wasn’t enough that Chase had made the shot. Or that his team had won because of it. Or that even when the game was over he was still talking.

  No.

  Now on top of all that, there was something just as bad.

  Maybe worse.

  Lily thought the guy was cool.

  Lily walked Ben all the way home, even though her own house was on the way and she knew she’d have to double-back later.

  Before she left Ben, the two of them standing on the sidewalk at the end of his brick walk, she said, “Pretty quiet, McBain.”

  “Talked out,” he said, almost adding something about how Lily probably couldn’t understand that, since she never seemed to get talked out.

  But he didn’t. Because he really was talked out.

  Lily said, “You sure that’s all it is?”

  “Lils,” he said, “I already told you that you were right, I’m gonna change my attitude. Big-time. Go back to having fun, remind myself that the fun of any season is finding out how it’s going to come out.”

  “So you’re not mad at me?”

  “Who said I was mad at anybody?”

  “You didn’t exactly act happy when I told you I didn’t think Chase was some kind of grand master dweeb dorkmeister.”

  “Dweeb dorkmeister?”

  “These ideas just come to me sometimes, I can’t control them.”

  Ben smiled at her. “Try harder. And, no, I don
’t expect you to be hating on Chase.”

  “Even though you are?” she said. Smiling back.

  Ben grabbed his head in mock pain, saying, “Why are we still talking about this?”

  “Okay, we’re done now,” Lily Wyatt said, and laughed, and started running down Ben’s street, past McBain Field, not looking back.

  Boy oh boy.

  What a girl.

  Whether you always agreed with her or not.

  The next day Sam and Coop and Shawn came over for the big Sunday lunch that was a tradition in the McBain household. Lily had been invited, too, as a member of what they now called the Core Four Plus One, but she had to go to her aunt’s house in Darby, before she played one of her last travel soccer games of the year over there.

  So it was Ben and his guys and Ben’s parents sitting around the big round table in their dining room, the guys doing most of the talking, Ben’s mom and dad just taking it all in, smiling a lot, as if this was the only place in the world they wanted to be right now. During the NFL season, Beth McBain always scheduled lunch for noon, in case the Packers — Ben’s favorite team in the world, with his favorite player, Aaron Rodgers — were on television at one o’clock.

  “It’s weird,” Coop said when they were having their pie and ice cream for dessert, “that the NFL has only played about half its season so far and we’ve already started basketball.”

  “Not sure you can say that about me the way I played yesterday,” Ben said. “Maybe my season can start next Saturday.”

  “Here we go,” Sam said, grinning.

  “Here what goes?” Ben said.

  Sam turned to Coop and Shawn and said, “Like he doesn’t know, right?”

  Shawn put his head down, went back to work on dessert, grinning as he said, “I’m so staying out of this. I’m still like a newbie with you guys.”

  “Hey, I’ve been good today,” Ben said to Sam, “I haven’t brought up yesterday’s game one time.”

  “Which you acted like was more horrible than if the Packers had lost to the Bears.”

  “Hey, have your fun,” Ben said, “but you know that we can’t win the championship if we can’t beat the Darby Bears.”