mid-court sideline. Mike dribbled a few steps right-handed, passed the ball behind his back, and dribbled to the arc left-handed. Under the basket, Cue Ball feinted to the outside and then cut in, wide open and arms raised for a pass.
There was no way Mike could miss seeing him. But instead of passing, he set his feet and went up for a jumper.
Clang!
The ball bounced off the rim and landed right in the hands of the surprised Chickasaw center. He looked around wildly for a guard to pass to. When he didn’t see one, he put the ball to the floor himself. He was very tall; maybe that’s why his dribble was so high. Cue Ball took advantage and swiped the ball from him. The center took two more steps before he realized he no longer had control.
Cue Ball, meanwhile, shot a layup. Rather than drop through the hoop, however, the ball rolled crazily around and around the rim—and fell off without going in!
Cue Ball tried to get his own rebound, but the Chickasaw center took his revenge by stripping the ball right out of Cue Ball’s hands. This time, he found a guard waiting for the outlet pass. The guard passed up to a forward, who hit a jump shot from twelve feet away.
Chickasaw, 67, Wickasaukee, 65, with a minute remaining. Sixty seconds was plenty of time to tie things up. But was it enough time to go ahead? Tim wasn’t sure.
Once more, he inbounded the ball to Mike. Now Chickasaw hit them with a full-court press. Mike was an expert ball handler, but Tim could see he was feeling the pressure— if only because he rifled a pass to him!
Tim was so startled he almost fudged the catch. But he controlled the ball. With a quick head fake, he sent his defender in one direction while he went in the other. He looked for someone to pass to. Cue Ball, Donnie, and Brian were all covered. It was up to him to tie the game!
“Trust yourself, Tim!” he heard Billy yell from the bleachers. “You can do it!”
Tim dribbled to the top of the key. The player defending Cue Ball took a step toward him and then retreated back to Cue Ball. Tim stepped into the paint, set his feet, and shot.
The ball traced a beautiful arc toward the hoop. Tim held his breath as it hit the backboard. Too high! Instead of falling through the net, the ball bounced over it!
Donnie and the Chickasaw center fought for the rebound. The ball started to go out of bounds. Donnie scrambled after it. With a mighty sweep, he drilled it off the Chickasaw player’s legs and out of bounds!
It was Wickasaukee’s ball under their own hoop!
16
T ime-out!” Tito shouted, frantically slapping his palm onto his fingertips.
Fweet! The ref’s whistle blew and both teams hustled off the court. Jody was already drawing a play on his small whiteboard. “We don’t have a lot of time, so pay attention,” he said urgently. He flipped the board around so they could all see the play.
“Donnie, Cue Ball, and Bobby line up shoulder to shoulder in that order on the side of the foul line closest to where the ball is being inbounded. Tim, you stand behind Bobby. Mike, you inbound the ball. Got it?”
The boys nodded.
“Mike starts the play with a slap on the ball. When the rest of you hear that, move! Bobby, you cut to the right of the hoop. Cue Ball, you fade back a few steps. Donnie, you cut to the left and outside. Tim, you cut left, too, but to the inside. Everybody put your hands up and shout as if you’re the one getting the pass. Mike, you feed the ball to Tim.”
“What?” Mike jabbed an outraged finger at Tim. “You’re putting our last hope of sending the game into overtime into his hands? He’s barely taken a shot all game!”
“Exactly,” said Jody. “So they won’t expect him to be the shooter, will they?” He turned to Tim. “Think you can do it?”
“Of course he can’t!” Mike cried before Tim could answer. “He should inbound the ball! I’ll take the shot!”
Tim stood up. “I don’t think I can,” he said. When Mike started to agree,
There was no way Mike could miss seeing him. But instead of passing, he set his feet and went up for a jumper.
Clang!
The ball bounced off the rim and landed right in the hands of the surprised Chickasaw center. He looked around wildly for a guard to pass to. When he didn’t see one, he put the ball to the floor himself. He was very tall; maybe that’s why his dribble was so high. Cue Ball took advantage and swiped the ball from him. The center took two more steps before he realized he no longer had control.
Cue Ball, meanwhile, shot a layup. Rather than drop through the hoop, however, the ball rolled crazily around and around the rim—and fell off without going in!
Cue Ball tried to get his own rebound, but the Chickasaw center took his revenge by stripping the ball right out of Cue Ball’s hands. This time, he found a guard waiting for the outlet pass. The guard passed up to a forward, who hit a jump shot from twelve feet away.
Chickasaw, 67, Wickasaukee, 65, with a minute remaining. Sixty seconds was plenty of time to tie things up. But was it enough time to go ahead? Tim wasn’t sure.
Once more, he inbounded the ball to Mike. Now Chickasaw hit them with a full-court press. Mike was an expert ball handler, but Tim could see he was feeling the pressure— if only because he rifled a pass to him!
Tim was so startled he almost fudged the catch. But he controlled the ball. With a quick head fake, he sent his defender in one direction while he went in the other. He looked for someone to pass to. Cue Ball, Donnie, and Brian were all covered. It was up to him to tie the game!
“Trust yourself, Tim!” he heard Billy yell from the bleachers. “You can do it!”
Tim dribbled to the top of the key. The player defending Cue Ball took a step toward him and then retreated back to Cue Ball. Tim stepped into the paint, set his feet, and shot.
The ball traced a beautiful arc toward the hoop. Tim held his breath as it hit the backboard. Too high! Instead of falling through the net, the ball bounced over it!
Donnie and the Chickasaw center fought for the rebound. The ball started to go out of bounds. Donnie scrambled after it. With a mighty sweep, he drilled it off the Chickasaw player’s legs and out of bounds!
It was Wickasaukee’s ball under their own hoop!
16
T ime-out!” Tito shouted, frantically slapping his palm onto his fingertips.
Fweet! The ref’s whistle blew and both teams hustled off the court. Jody was already drawing a play on his small whiteboard. “We don’t have a lot of time, so pay attention,” he said urgently. He flipped the board around so they could all see the play.
“Donnie, Cue Ball, and Bobby line up shoulder to shoulder in that order on the side of the foul line closest to where the ball is being inbounded. Tim, you stand behind Bobby. Mike, you inbound the ball. Got it?”
The boys nodded.
“Mike starts the play with a slap on the ball. When the rest of you hear that, move! Bobby, you cut to the right of the hoop. Cue Ball, you fade back a few steps. Donnie, you cut to the left and outside. Tim, you cut left, too, but to the inside. Everybody put your hands up and shout as if you’re the one getting the pass. Mike, you feed the ball to Tim.”
“What?” Mike jabbed an outraged finger at Tim. “You’re putting our last hope of sending the game into overtime into his hands? He’s barely taken a shot all game!”
“Exactly,” said Jody. “So they won’t expect him to be the shooter, will they?” He turned to Tim. “Think you can do it?”
“Of course he can’t!” Mike cried before Tim could answer. “He should inbound the ball! I’ll take the shot!”
Tim stood up. “I don’t think I can,” he said. When Mike started to agree,
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