“There you are!” A hand clapped Bucky on the shoulder in between classes. ‘‘You, sir, are coming with me.”
“What?”
Dan Litton poked a finger in Bucky’s chest. “Basketball tryouts, JV squad. In ten minutes . . . and I ain’t takin’ no for an answer.”
“But I . . .”
“I said, ‘I ain’t takin’ no for an answer.’” The older boy’s face was cheerful and determined all at the same time.
“I did bring my stuff along,” Bucky admitted. “I saw the notice about it.”
“That’s my man!” Dan glanced at his watch. “Hey, let’s move it.”
Bucky followed him out of the classroom building and across the campus to the large sports complex. “Hurry and suit up,” Dan urged. “Old Brayshaw’ll be here in a minute.”
In the locker area, Bucky nervously slipped into a pair of shorts and basketball shoes. “This’ll be the shortest tryout on record,” he muttered to his friend.
“Oh, come on. When Brayshaw sees what a big boy you are now, he’ll beg for mercy.” Dan chuckled, then twisted around, aiming an imaginary jump shot at an imaginary basketball hoop on the wall. “Two!”
A minute later they made their way out onto the main gym floor. The young coach was already taking names of sophomores and juniors milling around a desk. He looked up as Dan and Bucky approached.
There was a long, cool moment as he stared at the pair. Then he stepped away from the crowd and moved toward them. “Look,” he said, lowering his voice. “I don’t want a big scene. What are you guys doing here?”
A silence fell over the group. Two boys, dribbling noisily in the corner, picked up the ball and waited expectantly.
“We’re here to try out for JV,” Dan asserted. “What’s it look like?”
The coach pursed his lips. “Last May we lost ourselves a trophy because of . . . well, you know. His face tightened. “Are you straightened out, Litton? And ready to keep your nose clean? ‘Cause I’m not going through that again.”
“Yeah, Coach,” the older boy said, a bit of spunk beginning to show as well. “I got suspended, I served my time. So what are you hassling me for? We’re here to play.”
“Well, I just want the both of you to understand something,” Brayshaw said carefully, keeping his voice low. “This is my team. I don’t want to come up to the last day and all of a sudden find out that somebody’s . . . snorting coke or something. And that somebody else picks the perfectly worst moment to grow a conscience about it.” His glance at Bucky shot daggers.
“Now, hang on,” Dan interrupted. “That’s not fair, Coach. Stone, here, didn’t do nothin’ wrong. It was all me.”
“That’s not the song you were singing last May,” the older man barked. “The way you guys told it, Bucky imagined the whole thing. Then the three of you walked off the baseball field flipping him off, is what I heard.”
Dan nodded, undeterred. “Yeah, I admit it. We were kind of hot, and I said some things I shouldn’t have. But me and Stone have patched things up and we’re here to play some ball.”
“Well, just hold on. That’s my call, Litton, not yours. If I don’t want you to have a tryout, I can just send you out the door right now.”
The icy words hung in the air between them. Finally Bucky broke the stalemate. “Look, Coach,” he said, his voice even. “We’re here to give a hundred percent for the Panthers. Last year, despite what happened, you have to admit that Dan and I did our very best for the baseball team. We helped get us in the playoffs. And it doesn’t seem fair if . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Yeah,” Dan chimed in. “I got punished, but that’s done. You can’t hit me again for that. And Stone, here . . . what did he do wrong? All he did was hand you back your own rulebook, Coach. If you bust him for that, then that is a royal mess. There’s no way that’s fair.”
The tension in the room was palpable. Other players were pretending to be engrossed in other things, but Bucky could tell that all ears were tuned to the high-stakes showdown.
The athletic director said nothing for a moment as he looked around at the other boys, measuring their mood. The silence was electric. Finally he spoke again, but this time so that the entire group of athletes could hear him. “I’ll tell you what. And this is the last word. We’ll have our tryouts.” A pause. “Litton, you and Stone too. Then I’ll pick my team. My team, Mr. Litton. If the two of you happen to make the cut, then the rest of the team is going to vote. Every man on the team will vote whether to let you guys play again . . . after what happened here last year.”
Dan pondered it for a moment, then looked over at Bucky, who gave him a slight nod. “OK. Just remember who batted .374 and .359 last season. And Stone, here, is six three, guys.” His eyes scanned the gym, probing the gaze of his fellow teammates.
Chapter Seven: The Bluff Works Twice
“Come on, ring!”
Bucky paced back and forth in the living room, his cell phone sweaty in his left hand. For the third time in the last ten minutes he glanced at his watch. “Team meeting oughta be over by now!” he growled impatiently.
Finally he forced himself to sit down on the couch. Leaning back against the overstuffed cushions, he thought once again about the previous day’s bout with Mr. Brayshaw.
Even now he couldn’t get over the face-to-face showdown between them and the athletic coach. It had been a tense standoff, with all the other players leaning in to see if Brayshaw was going to summarily dismiss the two newcomers.
“Tryouts in five minutes!” the coach had snapped at last, breaking the logjam. Bucky had had just enough time to grab a quick drink of water and breathe a frantic prayer of supplication. “Please, Lord, help me to do my best. For your sake! Please!” As he stepped to the line for the first test he had resolved that – come what may during the season – he would never let God down.
Now a day later, Bucky’s heart flooded with gratitude as he considered how God had answered his prayer.
“Mom, everything clicked!” he had exclaimed, sitting in his basketball clothes on the kitchen floor an hour later. “Free throws: eight for ten. Perimeter shots, four out of seven. Dribble routines – I think I handled them as well as anybody there.” He paused. “And I’m as tall as anybody except Andrew Gorton, the center.”
Dan had confided as they left the athletic building after the game that they would have to name both of them to the squad. “There’s no way he could put us off now,” he observed, shaking his head. “And man, you especially. You totally nailed that tryout! That was unconscious shooting.”
Still flushed with excitement, Bucky had actually dared to hope. “But what about that vote?”
The older boy shook his head. “We’ll see,” he said carefully. “A couple of those guys were on the baseball squad last May, and I know for a fact they’re still mad at us.”
Now Bucky waited for the phone to ring. “Come on . . .”
At that very moment, it did. Popping open his cell on the first ring, he blurted, “Well?”
On the other end Dan laughed. “How’d you know for sure it was me?”
“Caller ID.” He’s laughing. That must be good! Bucky thought. “Come on, I been hangin’ onto this silly phone waiting for the last half hour. Tell me what happened.”
“Well,” Dan began slowly, “I guess I don’t know how to tell you this . . .” A painful pause. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to play ball with me this year!”
“All right!” Bucky raised a fist in celebration. “We did it, man! Who called you? Coach?”
“Yeah.”
“How was he?”
Dan snorted. “Oh, still . . . well, you know how he is. But he just said: ‘Yeah, you’re on the team, Litton. Go ahead and call Stone and tell him he got in too.’”
“And the rest of the guys voted us in?”
Dan grunted something unintelligible to someone on the other end, then continued, “Well, they saw how you were shooting lights out during
the tryout. And look. These guys want to win more than they want to spend their lives holding a grudge just ‘cause you told on me for copying on a test.”
“So where’s that leave us?”
Dan took a deep breath. “Well, it’s pretty much this. You and I have got to deliver,” he said softly. “That’s all there is to it.” He paused. “We are out on a limb, and we just got make sure we don’t get sawed off. ‘Litton and Stone Come Through in the Clutch’ is going to have to be a pretty steady headline in the paper. I mean, one way or another – and you can pray about it all you want – the two of us have to deliver Brayshaw a championship.”
“You got it. You and me, Litton. You and me.”
• • • • •
The next afternoon at practice he suited up nervously in the locker area. An air of tension mingled with the odor of sweaty socks and used towels. Several athletes standing nearby clustered with their back to Bucky, engrossed in conversation. Lacing up, his basketball shoes, he stood up straight, stretching to his full six foot three.
Walking over to where Andy Gorton, the lanky center, was slipping on his jersey, Bucky offered his hand. “Thanks for letting me play,” he began. “I’ll do all I can to help the team . . .”
Gorton stared at the outstretched hand, then turned his back on him and wandered off.
A sense of dread filled Bucky’s heart. Was it going to be like this all year?
Please, God, help me to break down these walls, he pleaded as he took his place in line. Coach Brayshaw took roll, his voice even as he called out Bucky’s last name.
“Calisthenics,” he announced without fanfare. Quickly he led the squad in a short but grueling series of exercises. Bucky, who had kept in shape throughout the summer, managed to finish the set without much strain. Several of the boys, he noticed, were almost gasping for breath at the finish.
“Some of you girls act like you spent all summer gorging yourselves at Dunkin Donuts,” the coach snapped. “Come on!” He gave several a hard look. “Get yourselves in shape or you’ll be buckin’ for a spot down on the frosh squad.”
For the next hour he ran everybody through drills: layups, passing exercises, one-on-one full court, setting screens for shooters. Bucky had to admit that Coach Brayshaw knew his stuff. “I thought he was just baseball,” he whispered to Dan during a short break. “How’d he get so good at basketball?”
Dan grinned. “He’s no dummy.”
The last fifteen minutes was a practice game, Red on Blue. Bucky and Dan, both assigned to the Red squad, played furiously, but it was a ragged performance. Passes consistently went awry and too many players, Bucky noted, had a “get - the - ball - and - shoot” mentality. He mentioned it to Dan on their way out of the sports complex after showering.
“Yeah, these guys don’t seem to know that a good pass is about the best way to a sure score. Some of ‘em, the minute the ball lands in their hands, heave it up toward the basket, even if they’re twenty feet out.” He snorted.
“You did OK in there.” Bucky offered.
“Thanks.” Dan shielded his eyes from the late afternoon sun. He looked over at Bucky. “I been thinking . . .” he began slowly.
“What?”
“Just ‘cause Coach got stuck with puttin’ us on the team doesn’t mean he’s ever going to play us.”
‘Bucky sucked in his breath. “You mean he might . . .”
The other boy nodded. “Yeah, just let us rot on the bench. That’d be perfect revenge for him.”
Inside Bucky could feel a slow rage beginning to build. “I . . . I never thought of that. You know, that’s what he’ll do!” He slammed his fist into his other hand. “Man!”
His teammate said nothing for a moment.
“What can we do?”
Dan’s face was thoughtful. “‘Course you don’t know that’s what he’ll do.”
“Oh, he will,” Bucky interjected dourly. “Anybody would. It makes perfect sense.”
“Yeah.” Dan’s athletic bag brushed against his leg at every step as if it had something heavy in it. Finally he spoke again. “I’ll tell you what.” He paused. “You and I just have to team up in practice and do so well he’ll have to use us together.”
Bucky frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, get together, work out some slick two-man plays. Every time we scrimmage, we pull ‘em out of our hats. If Coach sees you and me pulling off enough razzle-dazzle in practice, when we’re in a close game, he’ll know that’s his only salvation. Litton/Stone!”
“Do you think it’ll work?”
“I don’t know what else you can do.” Dan chuckled. “‘Cept kill him!”
“I’m sorry, my church won’t allow it,” Bucky said, forcing a laugh.
Dan cracked up. “Yeah, I figured that.”
• • • • •
The next Sunday Dan came over to Bucky’s place and the two spent an exhausting hour and a half together. Dan was brimming with clever plays, Bucky noted.
“Now take the standard give - and - go,” Dan explained at one point. “Textbook NBA play – except that high school teams botch it all the time.”
“Like how?”
“Say you’re bringing the ball down the left side,” Dan explained. “I line up along the left side of the key. ‘Bout here.” He took his place. “Now, I got a defender right behind me, and you got a guy in your face. Right? Now, on the give - and - go, you stop, bringing your man to you. Then pass the ball to me and break around your man for the basket! I feed it right back to you.”
“So what’s so hard ‘bout that?”
Dan picked up the ball. “Well, first of all, you got to get past your man. Feed me the ball, then, boom! You blow by him. One quick step and you have ‘im beat.
“Then I got to fake my guy out, like I’m going to drive off to my right and shoot,” Dan continued. “That gets him out of the way and leaves you wide open to the hoop.
“Or I can do this. You feed me, I’ll fake a pass off to my left, then hand you the ball when you blow by on my right side. Your left side.” He motioned.
Bucky looked confused.
“Here.” Dan tossed him the ball. “We’ll do it in slow motion.”
As Bucky came down the driveway on the left side, Dan said, “There. Get about six feet away from me and then stop. Look around – kind of leisurely – for someone to pass to.” He went through the motions. “OK, now pass it to me quick and then shoot by me on the left. I’ll fake the other way.”
Bucky complied. With an easy toss, he then darted by an imaginary defender. Just as he passed Dan, the ball appeared out of nowhere and into Bucky’s hands. With an easy two steps, he laid the ball in off the backboard.
“See how that fake the other way will confuse the other team?” Dan beamed.
“Yeah, it almost confused me!” Bucky confessed.
“Now, of course, we can run it both ways,” Dan said enthusiastically. “I can also fake right and then feed you coming on my left. You then charge right down the middle of the lane for a layup.”
Bucky shook his head in confusion. “How will I know which way we’re going?”
“Watch my eyes. Just before the pass-off, I’ll give a little move which way we’re going. Try it.”
Again Bucky charged up the driveway. This time Dan gave the tiniest glance to his left. As Bucky passed it in he surged forward and took the pass into the center of the lane. Leaping high in the air, he dropped the ball into the hoop.
“Man, you can almost slam it!” Dan grinned.
“I see how that signal works,” the younger boy admitted. “And, you know, we can run that both ways. I can feed it to you too.”
Over and over the two boys worked the play. Slowly but steadily their timing improved until they could run it from either side of the basket, left or right, without a hitch.
Finally Bucky signaled “enough!” Gratefully the pair sank down on the grass. “Man, you sure know your stuff!” he grinned.
“When you’re not any taller than I am,” Dan said, “you got to make up for it by being a sneak!”
Bucky lifted himself up on one elbow. “I still don’t see us gettin’ much playing time,” he said slowly. “With Coach bein’ down on us . . . plus all the team too.”
“I’ve been thinking about that some more. I think I have an idea.”
“Lay it on me.”
“Well,” Dan said, pulling a blade of grass out of his hair, “you’ve seen what a lousy passing team we are.”
Bucky laughed. “Really.”
“All these guys love to score,” Dan went on. “And if they get enough assists from two guys named Litton or Stone, sooner or later they’re gonna start likin’ us a whole lot more than they do right now.”
“You mean . . .”
Dan picked up the ball. “The two of us are going to become the assist champs of the whole league.” He tossed the ball to his friend. “You feed old Gorton enough easy hoops under the basket, he’ll come around.”
“Boy, I hope so.” From his prone position, he took careful aim at the hoop high overhead. With a nonchalant toss, he flipped the ball up and it clanged off the rim. He grinned. “You sure I can’t shoot it myself at least once in a while?”
Chapter Eight: A Frantic Comeback
Loud music throbbed across the quadrangle as students at Hampton High had lunch. Sam and Bucky sat at the edge of a lunch table on the far side away from the ever-occupied basketball courts. Even after his grueling one - on - one session with Dan the previous day, Bucky’s pulse quickened as he watched the furious action.
“Can you keep up with those guys?” Sam teased.
Bucky snapped a long carrot strip in half and popped one into his mouth before answering. “Oh, I dunno. Those are varsity guys.”
“How’s the JV team look?”
Bucky made a slight face. “Just fair, if you want to know the truth.” He paused to watch a senior drive past his defender for a quick layup. “Foul on that one,” he muttered. Then to Sam: “Most of the guys on JV are shot-happy. Almost no passing ability.”
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 27
