by Mike Lupica
“But you still want to beat Darby,” Lily said.
“As Coach likes to say, like a rented mule.”
He called Sam and asked if he wanted a ride to the game, but Sam said he wasn’t ready yet, he’d see him there. So it was Ben and Lily in the backseat, Ben’s dad driving them, Jeff McBain observing that this was pretty early for Lily to be getting to the gym.
“I want to walk in with Ben,” she said.
“I always think of it as me walking in with her,” Ben said.
“So this is one of those Ben and Lily things,” Ben’s dad said.
“Lily and Ben,” she said.
“Sorry.”
“Plus,” she said, “with a game this big, I wanted to get my game face on as soon as possible.”
“Game face?” Ben said. “You sound like one of the guys.”
“There’s no reason to be mean,” she said.
As early as they were getting to the gym, Shawn and Coop and MJ were already there, out on the court, shooting around. When Ben joined them Coop said, “Straight up? I don’t want this season to end.”
“Same,” Ben said.
Shawn said, “So we figured the earlier we got here, the more we could stretch out the day.”
MJ Lau grinned. “I finally learn to shoot and now we have to stop playing?”
Ben grabbed a ball out of the rack, rolled it around in his hands, then cradled it in his right hand and flicked his wrist and shot it straight up in the air with perfect rotation. Just getting the feel.
“So let’s just make this the best day of the whole season,” he said. “Because it’s gonna have to last us until baseball.”
“You’re telling me that with snow still on the ground,” Coop said. “Now I feel worse than ever that the season is ending.”
“But think how good you’re going to feel if we beat Chase Braggs,” Ben said.
Shawn said, “I heard he’s been telling everybody that beating us three times this season will be as sweet as beating Parkerville.”
“So what?” Coop said. “He’s already organizing a victory parade down Main Street in Darby? Like the ones New York teams get when one of their teams wins a championship?”
“Hey,” Ben said, “this isn’t only about him today. Shoot, I made way too much of the season be about him. This is about us. Our team. The team we made ourselves into.”
The rest of the Rams began to show up. The day none of them wanted to let go of began to take shape. The bleachers slowly began to fill up, parents and relatives from both towns, kids from both schools. It wasn’t a championship Saturday, but it was still a big-game Saturday, because it was Rockwell vs. Darby. Coach Wright came walking through the double doors, chatting with the two refs. Coop’s dad was at the scorer’s table, testing the clock, and then the horn, Coop’s dad loving the job of running the clock because he said it kept him a lot calmer during games than he’d be sitting in the stands.
Darby’s players showed up about forty-five minutes before the game was supposed to start, Chase leading them into the gym, of course. As soon as he was inside, Ben saw him looking over to the Rockwell side of the gym, trying to see if Lily was already here. When he spotted her, he waved, but as he did, Lily managed to pick that exact moment to turn and say something to Ben’s mom.
Lily wasn’t sitting with Molly Arcelus today, she was sitting with Ben’s parents. Now Ben looked back at Chase, who quickly pulled down his arm, Ben smiling as he thought: Shame to see a brother left hanging like that.
Good beginning to the day. One Ben McBain was convinced would end up being a great day, this powerful feeling he had that they were going to do it, finally, they were going to stop the Darby Bears.
That their best would be better today.
No eye contact with Chase, none, as the scoreboard clock continued to run down to the zeroes that would eventually mean the game was ready to start. Ben just concentrated on making his layups when he was still in the layup line — if it came down to a layup today, he wasn’t missing this time, not on a bet — and then his outside shooting.
Practice with a purpose, Coach always said. Practice like you play.
And, man oh man, he couldn’t wait to play. In sports you always heard about somebody being the team to beat. Well, there that team was at the other end of the gym, once and for all. Team to beat. The one nobody had beaten all season. One more time, Ben told himself he was playing for the championship of that. Whether the season was ending too soon or not, he was going to do everything and give everything to make sure it ended right.
He looked up at the clock.
Under five minutes to the start of the game.
He felt ridiculously excited.
But not nearly as excited as he was when the double doors at the other end of the gym opened up when Sam Brown came running through them.
Sam Brown in his white home jersey, No. 23 to Ben’s 22, sprinting by the Rams’ bench as Coach fed him a perfect bounce pass, Sam dribbling the ball toward his teammates, smiling, driving right past Ben and Coop and Shawn, laying the ball in.
Ready to play.
After the layup, Sam ran over to where Ben was standing, mouth still wide open.
Ben said “What …?”
Sam was still smiling. “Am I doing here?”
“Pretty much.”
Sam said, “Same thing as you. Getting ready to give Darby a beatdown.”
Then he explained to all of them, talking as fast as he could, the game really about to start now: How only Coach knew there was a chance he could play today, that he’d made more progress this week than anybody thought he would, his parents included, and had started running this week instead of next. Said he didn’t want anybody else to know — not even his boys — that this might happen, just in case it didn’t.
So he’d been working out on his own, in his driveway, all week. Even as late as yesterday, when the doc took one more set of X-rays, gave him one more round of range-of-motion tests, he said he’d need to see Sam this morning before he cleared him to play. See him run as hard as he could, and do it without pain. He and Sam and Sam’s parents had used the big gym at Rockwell High School, made him do stops and starts, go end to end, even jump for rebounds on shots his dad was missing on purpose.
The reason the workout had started so late was because another one of the doc’s patients had picked that morning to fall and break a hip.
“I can’t believe this,” Ben said. “You’ve never been able to keep a secret your whole life.”
“But my first one didn’t stink, right?”
Coach was with them now on the court, saying, “I thought that if anything could get us fired up more for this game than we already were, it would be Sam running through those doors.”
“Basically,” Sam said, “we thought it would be a pretty cool way for our season to end. And mine to start.”
Sam shot a couple of more quick layups, Ben feeding him, then had time to shoot a few free throws and a few jumpers from the wing before the horn sounded. Then the Rams — all of them now — walked toward their bench. Coach saying, “I thought about trying to have Sam get one practice in, but then he reminded me of something.”
Sam said, “After having to sit and watch all season, I know our plays better than he does.”
“In my whole life,” MJ Lau said, “I’ve never been happier to give up my spot.”
“You don’t have to,” Coach said. “We start the same five we’ve been starting. Don’t worry, I’ll get Number 23 in there soon enough.”
One of the refs came over and said, “Ready to start the game, Coach.”
Coach made a sign, like one minute. Put his hand out. The others came in on top of it.
“I’ve been telling you guys that we’re more a team than I ever thought we were going to be,” he said. “Well, guess what? Now we’re even more team than that.”
He was kneeling. Looked up now.
“Anybody got anything to add?” he said.
But the other side was still the Darby Bears who hadn’t tricked anybody on the way to winning all their games, even if Ben had helped them stay undefeated by missing a layup along the way.
And as obnoxious as Chase Braggs was — still was, holding his follow-through after making his first outside shot, on his team’s first possession — he could really play and his team could really play.
But so could the Rockwell Rams.
It was 10–10 when Coach put Sam into the game, halfway through the first quarter. Ben and Chase had been guarding each other up until then, each having scored three baskets already. But as soon as Sam was on the court, he came over to Ben, grinning.
“You guard Jeb for a few minutes,” he said. “I’ll take Mr. Wonderful.”
“I’m thinking he won’t have quite the same size advantage on you as he does me,” Ben said.
“Guess what?” Sam said. “You’re not the only one who wants a piece of that guy. I just waited longer to get mine.”
“Make it a big one.”
Sam missed his first shot, rushing it, too ramped up, almost trying to get the ball through the hoop before he even released it. But somehow Ben outfought all the big guys for the rebound, turned, and threw it right back out to Sam.
Who didn’t hesitate, shot almost the same shot he’d just missed.
Drained this one.
Ben couldn’t help himself, pumping his fist as he ran back up the court, feeling as if it was the biggest assist he’d gotten all season.
Chase looked surprised when he saw Sam guarding him, Sam picking him up in the backcourt, pressing him like he was trying to force a steal in the last minute of the game and not the first quarter, making him fight hard just to get the ball into the frontcourt before there was a ten-second violation. But once he made it, Ben knew that Chase wasn’t going to run a play for Jeb Arcelus now, or Ryan Hurley. He was going to show Sam right away he could get his shot on him the way he did everybody else.
Ryan set a high screen for him, but Sam jumped it, almost like Ryan wasn’t there. Staying right with Chase as he turned and started to back Sam toward the basket.
Going right to his go-to move.
Backing Sam in for a turnaround.
Ben watched as Chase head-faked one way, then the other. Sam didn’t go for either one, didn’t bite, looked completely calm even as he gave ground, almost like he wanted Chase to get to his spot.
When Chase was close enough, he gave one more little shake of his head, turned, and went into his shot. Sam was ready for it, timing Chase’s release perfectly, using his own length on Chase Braggs now, blocking the shot so hard it went rocketing into the bleachers. Telling Chase in that moment what guys always told shooters who got a shot smacked like that, whether they actually said anything or not:
Get that weak stuff out of here.
Sam Brown never changed expression. Just waited for the ref to hand Chase the ball so he could inbound it. When the ref did that, Ben heard Chase say, “He got my hand.”
The ref smiled.
“Not unless your hand had ‘Wilson’ written across it, son,” the ref said. “That was what we like to call all ball.”
For the rest of the first half, that’s what the Rockwell-Darby game was: All ball. Good, hard, serious ball. Coach let Sam play out the first quarter, then sat him back down, seeing how winded he was. You could play all you wanted in your driveway but playing in a game was totally different, especially if you’d been sitting on the bench all year the way Sam had. It was like the first day of practice when you scrimmaged hard for the first time, and wondered if you were going to be able to catch your breath ever again.
Between quarters Sam said, “You know how you always tell me how the game slows down for you?”
They talked about it all the time, how when you felt like you were in control of the action, it was as if everybody else in the game was moving in slow motion.
“Yeah,” Ben said.
“When’s that gonna happen for me today?”
“When you get back out there,” Ben said. “You’re back in it now, dude. When you get back out there again, you’ll feel like you haven’t missed a game. Trust me.”
“Always,” Sam Brown said.
Ben went back on Chase to start the second quarter. But Chase got hot, making three straight shots. The last one was a great drive in traffic, Chase beating Ben off the dribble, then blowing right past Coop when Coop tried to cut him off.
It was 24–18, Darby now. As Chase ran up the court, he leaned close to Ben and said, “You still can’t guard me.”
Ben ignored him. But as soon as he was in the frontcourt he crossed over hard on Chase, right hand to left hand in a flash. Only just as Chase leaned to his left, Ben immediately crossed back over on his dribble, and when Chase tried to cover that, his feet got tangled and he went down. In the clear now, Ben went straight up the middle, forced Ryan Hurley to pick him up, making a sweet feed to Shawn as he did, Shawn laying the ball in.
Didn’t say a word to Chase as he ran past him, didn’t look at him, just shrugged, like the whole thing was no big deal.
Sam came back in with two minutes left in the half. Game tied now. This time Ben stayed on Chase, who missed a fallaway the next time the Bears had the ball. Coop rebounded the ball and made his outlet pass to Ben almost in the same motion, and suddenly Ben and Sam were out on the break.
Two-on-one.
Their two against Chase’s one.
Ben was on the right, Sam to his left, good spacing between them, Chase backing up. As Ben got into the lane, Chase made his move on defense, backing off, sure Ben was going to feed Sam.
And he was going to feed Sam, had committed to passing him the ball, had it in his right hand. Only now Chase was there, so all Ben could do, having given up his dribble, was try a shot he hadn’t tried all year. Or practiced, even at McBain. Or knew he even had. A one-handed scoop shot from about ten feet away from the basket, a floater, like a reverse teardrop.
Nothing but net.
Now the Rams were ahead by a basket, stayed ahead by a basket until the half, Rams 30, Bears 28.
Coach did something he hadn’t done all season, took them off the court at halftime, into the boys’ locker room, Gatorade and water bottles waiting for them in there, telling them to take a seat on the benches.
“I’m not gonna tell you the second half is our season,” he said. “Because it’s not our season. I’m too proud of everybody in this room to say that nothing else that happened before this game mattered. It mattered a lot. I’m as proud of this team and the way it’s battled as any team I’ve ever coached.”
He wasn’t making a speech here, wasn’t raising his voice, was just talking to them, not just about basketball.
“Lot of challenges from the start,” he said. “From inside our team and out. But no matter what happened, we hung together. And got better. And kept fighting. As a coach? All you can ever ask.”
Coach smiled. “Not only did we get a player back today we thought we’d lost for the season, we found another player — in MJ — while Sam was gone. So now there’s one more good player in Rockwell.”
Knock on the door then, the taller of the two refs poking his head in. “Keith, the other team’s already out there warming up. You got about five minutes.”
Coach thanked him, said they’d be right out, turned back to the Rams. “These last two quarters, this isn’t just where we’re supposed to be. It’s where we want to be. This isn’t about just giving them their first loss. It’s about us getting one more win.”
Then he walked past his players, one by one, pounded each one of them some fist.
“Let’s go beat those guys,” he said.
The Rams ran out of the locker room yelling, got back on the court with three minutes left before the start of the second half.
First thing Ben saw when he got out there was Chase talking to Lily, who
was standing behind where Mr. Manley sat at the scorer’s table. When Chase saw that the Rams were back on the court, he walked away, shaking his head.
Ben told himself to wait until after the game to find out what all that was about, until he saw Lily waving him over, telling him to hurry.
“Wondering what we were chatting about?” she said.
Smiling.
“Chatting?” Ben said.
“Whatever,” Lily said. “He told me that he was glad Sam was back, because now you guys wouldn’t have any excuses when they beat you again.”
“Now he’s chirping on you?”
“Pretty much.”
“So what’d you tell him?”
Lily said, “I told him he just better watch out for Number 22.”
“He didn’t look too happy walking away.”
“The last thing he said was that you still couldn’t guard him,” Lily said.
“Yeah, he might’ve mentioned that to me in the first half.”
Lily said, “Then I told him this was going to be the day when it was the other way around.” She reached across the scorer’s table, gave Ben a high five, said, “So don’t make a liar out of me, big boy.”
He had time to shoot a couple of layups in the line, then a few free throws, saw Coach telling him to get over to the bench. When he got with the guys, Coach said, “I’m gonna start Sam, bring MJ off the bench to give us a jolt about halfway through the quarter.”
Turned to Ben.
“You want me to have Sam start out on Chase?”
Ben shook his head, no. Emphatically.
“I got this,” he said.
“Works for me,” Coach Wright said.
And Ben said to him, to all of them, “I’ve been waiting all season for this.”
Coach sat Ben about halfway through the quarter, telling him he better get his rest now, because once he went back in the only way he was coming out was if he was the one who sprained an ankle.
When Coach did put him back in, minute and a half left in the third quarter, the Bears had gone ahead by four, having just run two clean fast breaks in a row, Chase the finisher on both of them.
