by Mike Lupica
Don’t foul, Wes thought.
Hoping that Dinero was thinking the same thing.
As Tate elevated, Dinero reached in, and seemed to have made a great play, knocked the ball away cleanly.
Unfortunately, the ref didn’t see it that way.
He called Dinero for his fourth foul. Wes could see, even from a distance, Dinero thought he’d gotten a bad whistle. Really bad whistle. But he knew enough not to say anything that could get him a technical foul, and potentially make this a four-point play for the Griz.
So Tate only got two free throws.
Made them both.
Game tied again.
Wes made a jumper, just inside the free-throw line, at the other end. Hawks by two. Bakari threw up a wild shot to beat the shot clock, nearly falling down as he did.
Somehow he banked the sucker home.
Game tied again.
Under a minute left in the championship game.
Dinero got loose from Tate, put up one of his soft, sweet teardrop shots. But somehow it rolled off the side of the rim. The Grizzlies pushed again, thinking they could get a quick shot, put themselves into a two-for-one situation if they could score before there were thirty-five seconds left.
Wes guarded Bakari as closely as he could dare. Bakari rushed his shot, banged it off the front of the rim. E looked as if he had the rebound, but Trevor knocked the ball away from him.
The ball bounced away from everybody, toward midcourt.
Wes chased. And Bakari. And Tate Brooks. And Dinero, trailing the other three by a couple of steps.
Somehow they all dove for the ball at once, as if the championship were on the floor in front of them.
Dinero was the last one to the party, as Wes and Bakari wrestled to gain control of the ball.
They all heard the whistle then.
All turned and saw the taller of the two refs with his hand already in there, ready to make a foul call.
All four players froze. The ref hesitated, as if he couldn’t decide who in the scramble of bodies in front of him had actually committed a foul.
That’s when Dinero jumped up, slapped the front of his jersey in frustration as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done, and raised his hand in the air.
As soon as Dinero did, the ref nodded, pointed at him, and called Dinero for his fifth foul. He was out of the game. As he walked past Wes, on his way to the Hawks’ bench, Dinero said, “Win this for us. For all of us.”
Then he smiled.
Josh walked up to the scorer’s table to replace Dinero. Wes watched as Dinero walked with him, saying something into his ear, Josh nodding as he did. Coach quickly gathered the Hawks around him. Bakari was on his way to the free-throw line. The ref had decided he was the one who had gotten fouled, and awarded him a one-and-one.
“Whether he makes both or not, no timeout,” Coach said. “Push the ball and get them backing up. Somebody will get open. Just make sure there’s enough time for us to get a rebound and a putback if we miss.”
Bakari made the first free throw. Missed the second. E got the rebound and passed the ball to Josh. Thirty seconds left. Hawks down by a point.
E came up, looking for a possible pick-and-roll.
Nothing.
Wes was over on the right wing, on his way to go get the ball, when he heard this:
“Josh.”
It was Dinero’s voice.
Wes looked at Josh. He was dribbling with his right hand. But dropped his left hand to his side as he looked back at Wes.
And made the money gesture with his fingers.
In that moment, it was like Wes was back in his driveway with Dinero.
He took a step toward half-court, then made the back-door cut his dad had been teaching him his whole life.
Josh threw him a perfect pass, like the one the boy Danny had thrown in Mr. C’s game.
Wes caught it, had room for one dribble, laid the ball home.
Hawks by a point.
But the game wasn’t over. As soon as Wes scored, he was running back on defense, running hard to find Bakari, which is why he was in position to intercept Tate’s pass for Bakari as the clock ran out and the Hawks won the championship.
Dinero got to him first.
“Money,” he said to Wes.
FORTY-SIX
THERE WAS ONE LAST FIGHT between Wes and Dinero.
The championship bowl had already been presented to Coach Saunders and the Hawks. After that it was time for the chairman of the board for the league, Bakari’s dad, to announce who would get the trophy as MVP of the championship game.
When Mr. Hogan announced it was Wes who’d been voted MVP by the board members, Wes immediately tried to hand the trophy to Dinero.
Dinero handed it right back.
Wes handed it to him again.
Dinero handed it back.
By then, all of their teammates were laughing. So was Coach.
“Don’t try to get one more assist, Thirteen,” Dinero said. “Josh already got the one that mattered.”
“Thanks to you,” Josh said.
Wes looked at Dinero and made the money gesture with his own fingers now. Dinero did the same. Then all of the Hawks were doing it.
Finally Wes walked over to where his dad was standing with his arm around Wes’s mom.
“Well now,” Lt. Michael Davies said. “Where should we go to celebrate?”
“Where do you guys want to go?” he said to his parents.
In the same moment, they said, “Home.”
And they did.
About the Author
MIKE LUPICA (www.MikeLupicaBooks.com) is the #1 bestselling author of many popular books for young readers, including Fantasy League, Travel Team, Heat, and Million-Dollar Throw. He has carved out a niche as the sporting world's finest storyteller. Mike lives in Connecticut with his wife and their four children. When not writing novels, Mike Lupica writes for New York's Daily News and is a special correspondent for MSNBC. Follow Mike on Twitter @MikeLupica.
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
* * *
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.
