the net like a whisper.
Jimmie Burdette, who stood across from Kim, ran behind him and gave him a friendly tap on the hip. “Don’t let that bother
you, Kim! We’ll get ‘em!”
“Yeah,” Kim murmured. He knew that Jimmie was just trying to perk him up.
Dutchie McBride dribbled the ball halfway down-court, then passed to Allan. Allan shot to Jimmie, who faked a pass, then leaped
for a hook shot. The crowd screamed as the ball banked against the backboard, touched the rim, and rolled over.
“Tough luck, Jimmie!” cried Kim.
He rushed in to get the ball. He fell on it. At the same time a Comet player tried to pull it from him. The whistle shrilled
for a jump ball.
The referee tossed the ball into the air. The Comet player outjumped Kim and tapped the ball. Allan Vargo snared it from a
Comet’s hands. He pivoted, then shot a short pass to Ron.
Kim was in the open. “Here!” he shouted.
He didn’t think Ron would throw the ball to him. Ron and Dutchie were two boys who teased him about singing in the church
choir. But Ron did throw the ball, and Kim caught it.
Kim stood, puzzled, inside the white circle in the middle of the court. No one was near him. Somebody in the stands shouted,
“Shoot! Shoot!”
Kim looked at Jimmie, Allan, and the others. They were well guarded. He looked at the basket.
It was a long way to throw. But at any second the quarter might end.
The Arrows were one point behind.He was responsible for that point. If he shot and made it the Arrows would go into the lead. A lot of guys made shots from
the middle of the court.
Kim brought the big, round ball up against his chest, both his hands spread wide behind it. One of the Comets saw he was going
to shoot, and sped toward him. Kim leaped. The ball shot from his hands. It just missed the tips of the Cornet player’s fingers.
The ball sailed through the air close to the white ceiling, then curved down toward the basket. There was a hush in the gym.
Then a terrific roar as the ball sailed
over
the backboard!
Ron’s voice screamed at him. “Passthat ball! Who do you think you are? Wally Goodrich?”
Wally Goodrich was a professional basketball player with the Seacord Lions. Kim always talked about him.
Time was called. A familiar horn sounded from the bench. Bobbie Leonard was coming back in to replace Kim.
Kim ran off the court. He kept his eyes down. He hardly noticed the sweat that rolled into them.
“That’s pretty far to shoot, Kim,” Coach Stickles said. “Try to pass when you can.” Then he leaned over and patted Kim on
the knee. “Don’t let it bother you, kid. Cheer up.”
Then the quarter ended.
3
T HE two minutes went by quickly. The sweat on Kim’s body had hardly dried.
A Comet player threw in the ball from outside the out-of-bounds line. His teammate caught it and heaved a long pass upcourt.
“Get up there! Get up there!” Coach Stickles shouted. Kim wondered if anybody could miss hearing that strong, powerful voice.
A Comet player, alone under the basket, caught the pass and made a perfectlayup shot. Kim saw that the player was Bobbie’s man.
The scoreboard flashed the score: ARROWS —43, COMETS —46.
The game was close. But the Arrows still had a chance. Kim wished he could get in again. He would never have let his man be
alone as Bobbie had.
A Comet player caught a pass Allan had meant for Ron Tikula, and dribbled down to the circle in the middle of the court. Jimmie
Burdette made a few stabs at the ball, then hurried upcourt to cover his man.
Kim grinned. Jimmie Burdette was a good player. Not only that, he was a nice kid too. You never heard him argue. You never
saw him play dirty.
Kim was glad that Jimmie Burdette and he were good pals.
The Comet player was standing in the white circle—the same spot in which Kim had stood a few minutes before.
The Comet player glanced at the basket. He was tall, about five feet six or seven. He set himself for the long shot.
Jimmie Burdette, who stood across from Kim, ran behind him and gave him a friendly tap on the hip. “Don’t let that bother
you, Kim! We’ll get ‘em!”
“Yeah,” Kim murmured. He knew that Jimmie was just trying to perk him up.
Dutchie McBride dribbled the ball halfway down-court, then passed to Allan. Allan shot to Jimmie, who faked a pass, then leaped
for a hook shot. The crowd screamed as the ball banked against the backboard, touched the rim, and rolled over.
“Tough luck, Jimmie!” cried Kim.
He rushed in to get the ball. He fell on it. At the same time a Comet player tried to pull it from him. The whistle shrilled
for a jump ball.
The referee tossed the ball into the air. The Comet player outjumped Kim and tapped the ball. Allan Vargo snared it from a
Comet’s hands. He pivoted, then shot a short pass to Ron.
Kim was in the open. “Here!” he shouted.
He didn’t think Ron would throw the ball to him. Ron and Dutchie were two boys who teased him about singing in the church
choir. But Ron did throw the ball, and Kim caught it.
Kim stood, puzzled, inside the white circle in the middle of the court. No one was near him. Somebody in the stands shouted,
“Shoot! Shoot!”
Kim looked at Jimmie, Allan, and the others. They were well guarded. He looked at the basket.
It was a long way to throw. But at any second the quarter might end.
The Arrows were one point behind.He was responsible for that point. If he shot and made it the Arrows would go into the lead. A lot of guys made shots from
the middle of the court.
Kim brought the big, round ball up against his chest, both his hands spread wide behind it. One of the Comets saw he was going
to shoot, and sped toward him. Kim leaped. The ball shot from his hands. It just missed the tips of the Cornet player’s fingers.
The ball sailed through the air close to the white ceiling, then curved down toward the basket. There was a hush in the gym.
Then a terrific roar as the ball sailed
over
the backboard!
Ron’s voice screamed at him. “Passthat ball! Who do you think you are? Wally Goodrich?”
Wally Goodrich was a professional basketball player with the Seacord Lions. Kim always talked about him.
Time was called. A familiar horn sounded from the bench. Bobbie Leonard was coming back in to replace Kim.
Kim ran off the court. He kept his eyes down. He hardly noticed the sweat that rolled into them.
“That’s pretty far to shoot, Kim,” Coach Stickles said. “Try to pass when you can.” Then he leaned over and patted Kim on
the knee. “Don’t let it bother you, kid. Cheer up.”
Then the quarter ended.
3
T HE two minutes went by quickly. The sweat on Kim’s body had hardly dried.
A Comet player threw in the ball from outside the out-of-bounds line. His teammate caught it and heaved a long pass upcourt.
“Get up there! Get up there!” Coach Stickles shouted. Kim wondered if anybody could miss hearing that strong, powerful voice.
A Comet player, alone under the basket, caught the pass and made a perfectlayup shot. Kim saw that the player was Bobbie’s man.
The scoreboard flashed the score: ARROWS —43, COMETS —46.
The game was close. But the Arrows still had a chance. Kim wished he could get in again. He would never have let his man be
alone as Bobbie had.
A Comet player caught a pass Allan had meant for Ron Tikula, and dribbled down to the circle in the middle of the court. Jimmie
Burdette made a few stabs at the ball, then hurried upcourt to cover his man.
Kim grinned. Jimmie Burdette was a good player. Not only that, he was a nice kid too. You never heard him argue. You never
saw him play dirty.
Kim was glad that Jimmie Burdette and he were good pals.
The Comet player was standing in the white circle—the same spot in which Kim had stood a few minutes before.
The Comet player glanced at the basket. He was tall, about five feet six or seven. He set himself for the long shot.
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