Slam Dunk

by Matt Christopher

  All the work and effort that had gone into making last year’s team what it was — he’d have to do all that work again. The same workouts, the same drilling and running and sweating... the whole deal. The difference was that at the end of the year, there would be a lot less to show for it. There had to be. And that discouraged him.

  None of this was Grady’s fault, or Mick’s or Len’s or anybody’s. Julian knew that, but he couldn’t help how he felt — trapped.

  5

  That afternoon, for the first time ever, Julian was late to practice. When he arrived, the rest of the team was already in the gym warming up. He changed into his workout gear as quickly as he could and walked out on the court to see the players running the usual layup drill. The coach saw him and came over.

  “Hi. How come you’re late?”

  For a moment, Julian thought about coming up with some kind of excuse but gave up the notion almost immediately. He didn’t want to be a liar in addition to showing up late. But he didn’t want to tell the truth either — that he simply didn’t want to walk into the locker room and face Grady. He couldn’t say that.

  So he said, “Sorry. No excuse. I won’t be late again.” “Uh-huh,” said the coach, fixing Julian with a stony stare. “Just so we understand each other completely, nobody on this team is allowed to break my rules. And showing up on time is one of the most important ones. I’ll take your word that it won’t happen again. Take some laps around the gym until I tell you to join the rest of the team.”

  Julian nodded and began jogging around the floor, watching the drill as he went. It was the usual stuff, and it looked... well... dumb. The guys went in for uncontested layups, something that rarely happened in a game. When it did happen, it led to an automatic two points.

  But his teammates were missing too many layups. Passes were poorly thrown. Instead of smoothly laying the ball in, the pass receiver had to break stride, sometimes even chase a ball that got away completely. And through it all, Grady was telling the guys how good they looked, even when they didn’t.

  A few minutes later, Coach Valenti signaled for Julian to join the team. When his turn came to try for a layup, Julian took the ball and went as high as he could before letting it bounce off the glass and through the hoop. As he trotted to the end of the other line, Julian heard several of the players clapping and whispering to one another. He knew he’d made an impressive-looking shot.

  A moment later, he soared equally high to pull down a rebound after a missed layup and tossed a perfect pass to the next man in line. That player was able to shoot without even a slight adjustment in stride. If Grady had said anything complimentary about Julian’s moves, Julian hadn’t heard it. And Coach Valenti’s face remained expressionless. But Julian knew he’d looked good. He felt a sudden surge of energy, a sense of re-discovering how talented he was.

  The coach called the team together. “Some of you remember the sidestep drill from last year... and you probably hated it. But you need it to play tough D. First, make two lines down the middle of the court from one basket to the other. Make sure there’s some room between you and your neighbor... good. Now, face the other line.”

  Julian found himself staring at Mick. The two boys nodded to each other.

  “You don’t play good defense with your hands,” Coach Valenti said. “You play good D with your feet. When you play man-to-man, you have to stay right on the guy you’re guarding, keep him out of scoring lanes, and that means moving from side to side. When I blow the whistle, you’ll keep your hands up, like this”— he stretched out his arms with his hands just under shoulder height — “and you’ll move sideways, in this direction” — he gestured to Julian’s left — “until I blow the whistle again. Then you’ll move to the other side and switch again when I blow the whistle, and so on.

  “Remember, keep your arms up and be alert, because sometimes I’ll blow that whistle pretty fast. Don’t slow down; don’t let me see anyone loafing. Ready?”

  The whistle blew, and Julian moved to his left, his arms high. Before very long, his spurt of energy was gone, and he was breathing hard. He wanted to slow down, but Mick was managing to keep up the pace, forcing him to do likewise. His arms started to feel heavy.

  Sometimes the coach blew the whistle only a second after the last blast, and the players would reverse direction after only a step or two.

  “Watch those hands!” Coach Valenti called out. “Keep ’em up! Len, don’t slow down. Come on, guys, it’ll get easier in a week or two. Julian, don’t drag those feet!”

  After what felt like hours but was only a few minutes, the coach said, “All right! Take a break. We’ll run this drill every day because you need the work.”

  Julian bent over, his hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. Mick was gasping, too, and caught Julian’s eye. He smiled and said, “Man! He’s pretty tough!”

  Julian nodded, took a deep breath, and said, “Believe it.” He thought about doing this every day, probably for a little longer each time, and stifled a groan.

  “Well, it’s a good workout,” said Mick. “Wish we’d done this with my old team.”

  Julian walked over to grab a towel from a courtside bench and mopped his face. As he did, he heard Grady’s voice. “Mind if I talk?”

  Julian put down the towel and said, “I shouldn’t have said that stuff about you being a sub. That wasn’t fair.”

  Grady shrugged. “You’re right, it wasn’t fair.” “That’s what I said,” Julian replied, a resentful edge in his voice.

  “I wish you’d lighten up with the new guys,” Grady said. “You don’t have to be their best buddy, just treat them like teammates, which they are.”

  “Okay,” muttered Julian, “I’ll do that.”

  “Because it matters to them, you know?” Grady went on, as if Julian hadn’t said anything.

  Julian gave Grady a long look. “I said I would, all right?”

  “Sure,” Grady said, turning away. “Sorry I bothered you.”

  When the break was over, the coach worked on set plays, including the give-and-go. In this play, a tall offensive player, a center or a forward, posts himself with his back to the basket near the key and gets the ball from a teammate. He then passes off and pivots around the man guarding him toward the hoop. The player with the ball feeds the tall man, who, if the play is run correctly, should have an open layup.

  Julian was the man in the middle the first time it was run, and he was guarded by Mick. He passed to Grady and moved around Mick to the basket. Grady’s pass was right on target, setting up an easy shot.

  “Very nice!” called out Coach Valenti. Julian smiled and nodded to Grady, who smiled back. Julian had to admit that nothing felt better than working a play like that properly.

  A few minutes later, Julian was in the pivot again, and this time Len was the guy he passed to. Julian made his move around the guy guarding him, but his first step was slow. When Len launched his pass, Julian wasn’t in position to get it. Shaking his head, Julian slowly trotted after the ball.

  “Get the lead out,” the coach called. “The pass was where it should have been, Julian.”

  Julian kept his face neutral, but inside he was seething. Like nobody else had messed up a play today?

  Coach Valenti spent the last part of practice working on zone defense. In this type of defense, defenders don’t guard individuals but are responsible for guarding a section of the court. Julian was the center on the offensive team, and he was feeling tired and moving as little as possible. The defensive team was using a 3–2 zone, with a defender on each side of the key. Julian’s responsibility was to work himself open for a possible shot, but he stayed pretty much in one place.

  Finally, there was a blast from the coach’s whistle. “Julian, you know about the three-second rule, don’t you?”

  The three-second rule says that no player from the offensive team can stand with even one foot in the key for more than three seconds. If someone does, the team has
to turn the ball over. Julian knew the rule very well. He nodded, feeling foolish.

  Coach Valenti said, “Well, you’ve had your right foot planted in the paint for about ten seconds now. You stuck on a piece of chewing gum or something?”

  “Uh...sorry.” Julian realized that the coach was absolutely right and moved away.

  “Okay, let’s knock off for today,” said the coach. “We did some good work out there. Before everyone leaves, I have some news. Barry Streeter’s dad called me to say that Barry is going to need surgery on his leg. He’ll be in the hospital for a few days, and it isn’t clear yet how long it’ll take him to recover.

  “Needless to say, this is bad news, and Barry could use some cheering up and a show of support. Visiting hours are until eight P.M., so please, everyone, stop by if you possibly can. Okay, that’s it. Julian, stick around a minute.”

  As the rest of the players left the floor, Julian braced himself for a lecture. The coach motioned him to sit down on one of the courtside benches.

  “What’s up?” asked Coach Valenti. His voice was mild. “I don’t want to poke my nose into anything that isn’t my business, but something’s bothering you, and if you want to talk about it, feel free.”

  Julian was relieved that the coach wasn’t yelling. “I’m okay,” he said, feeling as if he’d repeated those words a million times recently.

  The coach thought a moment before saying, “Last year, it wasn’t just your skills that set you apart. It was your attitude. You were always early for practices and games, and you gave it all you had. If I worried about anything, it was that you might push yourself too hard.

  “That was then. This year, you show up late to our second practice, with no excuse at all. You don’t seem to want to have anything to do with your teammates, and you’re going at about half-speed. I know it’s early, but the difference is huge, and I’m... concerned. Not angry, not worried, but definitely concerned. But you say you’re okay, so I’ll accept that. But I need to see more from you than I’ve seen so far.

  “It’s partly because the team needs the kind of play you’re capable of, and it’s partly because we have so many new faces. That puts more of a burden on you than there would have been if more of last year’s guys were back. Like it or not, you’re the one who sets the tone. If you slack off, I guarantee others will. And then we’re in for a long season.”

  “So if the team doesn’t do well, it’s my fault?” Julian asked.

  The coach shook his head. “What I said was, you have to show the way: make this team think and play together, and give an effort. It may not be fair, but that’s what happens when someone has a gift. You have a gift. Basketball may take you a long way, but there will be a price to pay. Think about it. And remember, I’ll always be around if you want to talk.” He stood up to leave. “See you tomorrow,” Coach Valenti said. “On time.”

  Julian headed for the locker room, thinking about what the coach had said. As he changed clothes, Grady came over. “Hey, my mom is driving Mick and me to visit Barry in the hospital, if you feel like coming. We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

  Without really thinking, Julian said, “I can’t. I have to go home.”

  “You don’t want to see Barry?” asked Grady. “The coach said —”

  “Sure I want to see him!” Julian glared at the other boy. “But I can’t go this afternoon, that’s all. I have to go home.”

  “Okay then.” Grady walked away without another word. Julian put on his street shoes, wondering if he had done the right thing. He was worried about Barry and did want to see him. Why had he turned Grady down?

  Because he wanted to see Barry without anybody else along.

  But that was dumb. He should have agreed and gone with the others. Why was he behaving this way? He looked around. He was the only player still there.

  Suddenly, Julian jumped up, grabbed his gear, and raced outside. Maybe he could still catch Grady and Mick.

  But when he got outside, they were gone.

  6

  For the rest of the day, Julian kept thinking about not going to visit Barry with Grady. When he sat down to dinner, he told his family about Barry’s condition.

  “Could you guys drive me over to the hospital after dinner so I can see him?”

  “Sure thing,” said Mr. Pryce. “I know Barry would appreciate it. I’ll run you over there. As long as I’m taking you, is there anyone else who might like to go along? How about your friend Grady?”

  Julian said, “No, that’s okay. Just me.”

  “Why don’t you give Grady a call and tell him you’re going?” Mrs. Pryce persisted. “After all, he’s one of Barry’s friends, too.”

  Julian realized he would have to explain. “Grady, uh...he already went to see Barry. He went right after practice.”

  “Oh,” said Julian’s mother, looking a little surprised and glancing at her husband.

  “How come you didn’t go with Grady?” Megan asked. “Didn’t he ask you to go?”

  “Yeah,” Julian said, wishing the conversation would end. “He asked.”

  “Well?” Megan said. “If Grady went this afternoon, and he asked you to come along... why didn’t you?”

  Julian stared straight ahead. “Because he...I didn’t ... we kind of had a fight.”

  Mr. Pryce frowned. “You and Grady? What’s going on? You two always got along last season.”

  Julian didn’t want to go into it. “It’s no big deal. It’s just...”

  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” said his mother.

  “I think it’s weird that you wouldn’t visit your buddy in the hospital together,” Megan said, looking at Julian disapprovingly. “Especially if it’s no big deal.”

  Julian felt his face turning red. “He was hassling me, that’s all. Telling me how I should act with the new guys on the team, saying that I’m not doing what I’m supposed to be doing, like I’m goofing off, not giving a hundred percent. And I got angry.”

  “The way you talked about how bad the team was,” Megan said, “maybe he’s right.”

  “Mind your own business!” Julian yelled. “He was wrong, and so are you!”

  Mr. Pryce held up a hand like a policeman directing traffic. “That’s enough of that, both of you. Megan, it really isn’t your business, unless Julian asks you for advice.”

  “I’d like to see Grady and you patch things up,” said Julian’s mother. “It’s never fun to have problems with a friend.”

  “Well, he started it,” muttered Julian.

  “Doesn’t matter who started it,” said Mr. Pryce. “The main thing is that it’s bad for both of you, and it could be bad for the team as well. Anyway, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

  A little later, Julian sat in the family car with his father. Mr. Pryce asked, “Were you and Grady arguing last night on the phone?”

  “Uh-huh,” Julian admitted.

  They pulled into the hospital parking lot. “Want me to come?” asked Mr. Pryce.

  “That’s okay,” said Julian. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave, okay?”

  He went in and was directed to Barry’s room. Feeling nervous, he approached the open door, not knowing what to expect, and peered in.

  “Hello?” he said, entering the room.

  “Jools! My man!” Barry looked surprised and happy to see him.

  Julian was shocked by his friend’s appearance and hoped it didn’t show. Barry’s right leg was encased in a cast from his foot almost to his hip. A complicated-looking metal frame around the cast kept the leg from moving. His left forearm was heavily bandaged, and there was a large dressing wrapped around his head. Something dripped from a plastic IV bag on a pole into a needle stuck into his right arm, just below the elbow.

  Julian hadn’t realized that Barry’s injuries were so serious. Now he struggled to think of something to say, wanting to sound relaxed rather than worried, looking for a cheerful thought but not finding one.


  Barry grinned. “Do I look that bad? You should see the expression on your face.”

  Julian came to the side of the bed. “Uh...I didn’t realize...I guess you won’t be at practice tomorrow.”

  Laughing, Barry said, “No, but I got a note from my doctor. You just missed my folks; they left a minute ago. Good to see you, man.”

  Julian pulled over a chair and sat. “What’s up? I hear you need an operation. When?”

  Barry’s smile dimmed. “Probably tomorrow, if the doctors are sure I don’t have an infection.” With his left hand, he gestured to the IV. “That’s why I’m getting the antibiotics, just in case. I won’t know until the morning.”

  “Wow,” Julian said. “That’s rough. Did the doctors say when you can play again?”

  Barry leaned back into his pillows and closed his eyes. “Uh-uh. They won’t know until after they operate. But I don’t think it’s going to be any time soon.”

  Julian nodded, trying to take it all in. “But, I mean, you will be able to play at some point, right?”

  Barry opened his eyes and looked at Julian for a moment, his smile completely gone. “They didn’t say. They won’t say anything much at all. So, the answer is: I don’t know when I can play again. Or if I can.”

  Julian was stuck for something to say. The idea of never being able to play hoops again was more than he could deal with.

  “Anyway,” Barry said gruffly, “let’s talk about something else. How’s practice going?”

  Julian shook his head. “Okay, I guess. It’s a little weird because everybody’s gone. Just about, anyway. Max moved away.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Barry replied. “By the way, what’s going on with you and Grady?”

  Julian stiffened. “Why? What did he tell you? Because whatever he said, he —”

  “Grady didn’t say anything about you and him,” Barry cut in. “It’s just, when he showed up and you weren’t with him, I asked about you, and he kind of took a deep breath and looked sad and said he didn’t want to talk about it. What’s the deal?”