by Phil Wohl
SIXTEEN
Dave walked out of the locker room and looked up in the stands at Sarah, who returned his look of steel with her own Supergirl stare. She knew right then and there that her man was set to explode and it would be a long 16 minutes for Central High.
Walter Abrahams was trying to control himself, but he wasn’t sure if his son could pull through without his council. Although he appreciated William Doherty’s contribution to his son’s career, he felt the man’s coaching wasn’t the reason for the team’s success. The two men had clashed at times over the years but had come to a peaceful understanding in more recent times. It also didn’t hurt that they were rarely in the same place at the same time in the previous ten years.
Walter watched Pete scoop up a ball, dribble out to the deep left corner, and hoist a smooth jumper. The ball splashed through the basket and the spun back in his direction like an obedient dog. The corners of Walter’s mouth turn up slightly, which was about as much positive emotion as the man would show during the heat of the battle. Game on.
The mood was completely euphoric in the Central locker room, as if they already won the game. Their coach, Harold Bunning, had retired five years following the initial game, and had little success in getting his team’s attention.
“The game isn’t over, gentlemen, was one of the many clichés he tried to interject between boasts and jokes by his team. No strategy was discussed and the only thing that was decided was the night club they would be rockin’ after the game.
Calvin Brown once again started the second half inside of Dave’s jersey, the location where he took up residence when Central played Bailey Woods.
“You ain’t getting off tonight. This, right here, is our house now. Make sure you move your shit out by the end of the game,” Calvin preached to Dave.
The phrase “Let sleeping dogs lie” immediately came to mind as Dave replied, “Just wait ‘till I get the motha’ fuckin’ ball!”
Cameron Breslin saw Dave’s inflamed eyes as he jockeyed for position with Brown. It was time to feed the big guy – Dave used his left forearm against Brown’s chest to create some space. He then pooped out to the three-point line as Cam threw a speedy chest pass that Dave caught and quickly turned to shoot. Brown quickly made up the gap as Dave head-faked, eliciting the eager defender to jump in the air in an attempt to block the shot.
Dave absorbed the contact and then released the shot. The crowd raised their collective hands and chanted, “Three.”
The referee blew his whistle as the ball floated through the air and into the basket. The crowd went crazy as Dave strolled to the foul line without saying a word to the opposition.
The referee approached the scorer’s table and the yelled over the crowd, “Basket’s good! Foul on number 35, green! 44, white, shoots one!”
Rodney Harrison looked at Brown with inflamed eyes that said, “Why did you have to wake him up!”
The momentum pendulum swung fully toward Bailey Woods’ way by the end of third quarter. They flipped an eight-point deficit into a five-point lead in the blink of eight minutes. Coach Doherty noticed a difference in his team and he didn’t like it. He was more into double-digit advantages and emptying his bench than sweating out every victory.
Dave and his teammates didn’t train for months so they could sit on the bench and watch the game. With three minutes left, the comfortable Bailey Woods lead shrunk to a single point. Then Mike Mitchell hit a three-pointer for Central. Before Doherty was able to call a timeout, Dave stepped behind the line and put Bailey Woods back in the lead. Mitchell hit another three and then Dave sunk a jump-hook from the baseline to tie the score.
The clock ticked past one minute as Central planned to use most of the 45-second clock. Doherty was a bit confused by the strategy because it meant that his team would get the ball back with more than 10 seconds on the clock. Taking the lost shot of the game was definitely a real competitive advantage.
Central held the ball until there was 35 seconds left on the clock and then went ahead with a play. Coach Bunning grew tired of being ignored by his team, and decided to rest his weary bones on a plastic chair on the bench. There would be no time-out called on this day.
Calvin Booth threw a bounce pass to Devin Berry that Tom O’Malley deflected off of Berry’s foot and out of bounds. All five Bailey Woods players pointed toward their basket and the referee agreed, “Ball deflected off green! White ball!” he said as he signaled toward the far basket to the delight of the crowd.
Doherty turned to the other referee, made a “T” with his hands, and the said “Time out.”
Twenty-seven seconds was too long a stretch of time to run a play, so Cameron Breslin dribbled near half-court and then signaled for another time-out with 15 seconds left.
“We could run that double pick play again, but they’ll probably be expecting that,” Doherty said as he knelt down on one knee in the huddle.
In the other huddle, Calvin Booth yelled, “They’re gonna’ run that motha’ fuckin’ pick play again!”
Dave started laughing, “Well, it didn’t really work last time. Maybe if we run it right this time we can get something out of it.” He then squeezed the water bottle toward his mouth and passed it over to Tony D as he stood up.
“Keep your hands up, bro. You’re gonna’ be open,” Dave said as he walked onto the floor.
Tony looked at Dave with amazement, and still thought his friend would take the last shot. Dave, however, had other ideas.
The crowd went from the edge of their collective seat to standing up, as Mike Finnegan took the ball from the referee. Tony Dorio and Tom O’Malley came together to pick off Calvin Brown, who yelled “Not this time!”
Although Brown had gone on to become a successful computer programmer for Computer Associates, he never stopped thinking about the foul he committed on Dave.
Finns threw the ball into Cam, who dribbled to the left side of the floor where all of the action was set to take place. Then seconds left. The clock ticked down to eight and Doherty yelled, “Go!”
Ten years had made a huge difference in Dave’s life and thoughts. No longer was he the single-minded, tunnel vision hoops junkie. While basketball was still a big part of his life, images of Sarah floated through his mind as he tried to get some space from Booth by rubbing him against the Herculean frame of Tony D.
The gym seemed to lean toward Dave as Cam rifled a pass toward him on the left wing. In fact, everyone was so used to him taking the last shot that the Centrals defenders naturally flowed toward him. Six seconds.
The middle of the lane, near the foul line, was clogged as a gas station toilet, so Dave took a dribble with his right hand and then spun toward the baseline. Four seconds. Dave picked up his dribble with his back to the basket, and it looked as if he would shoot a fade-away from the right baseline. Three seconds.
Tony D slowly rolled toward the basket and the line between he and Dave was as clear as the New York Stock Exchange on a Sunday morning. Dave raised his right arm with the ball as a group of defenders committed to the air. He quickly transferred the ball to his left hand and flipped a pass behind his left ear with his back still to the basket. Two seconds.
The crowd moaned, “Whoa!” as Tony D drifted toward the ball and the basket. He caught the ball and headed up toward the basket without hesitation. One second. He released the ball against the backboard as it fell through the net as time expired and the buzzer sounded.
Three of the Central starters were clueless to where the ball wound up and were startled to hear the huge roar of the crowd and then the onrush of all of these elated people. Calvin Brown looked up at the scoreboard and shook his head in disbelief. He thought to himself, “Ten years from now, we’ll play again in our gym.”
Sarah was one of the first people to get to Dave after he hugged Tony D, who yelled “You’re crazy! I can’t believe you threw that pass!” Bianca and Sarah hugged their men, and then
fans came out of the stands to slap hands and talk to the players.
Doherty smiled and looked across the gym at Dave, who nodded at Dave that it was time to keep the goodwill flowing. He picked up the public address microphone and started talking.
“Can I please have your attention for just a moment?” Doherty yelled as the excited crowd slowly settled down. “Wasn’t that a great game?” The crowd cheered loudly for a few seconds. “I first wanted to thank Coach Bunning and the Central High team for being such a worthy opponent in this wonderful rivalry. Win or lose, they will always be champions!” The Central High guys smiled as the crowd chanted “Central! Central! Central!”
“We now have a few special presentations. The first is a painting commissioned by Bailey Woods High School to be hung just outside the gym in our Hall of Fame. The painting was done by our own Cameron Breslin off a photograph that was taken 10 years ago by Jeremy Goldberg.”
Cam removed the white cover off the painting to reveal a colorful depiction of the classic Bailey Woods-Central championship game as viewed from the stands. All ten players could be seen along with the Bailey Woods bench.
“Cam’s a painter?” O’Malley said in a shocked tone.
“I didn’t think he could even write,” Brady stated.
Finnegan finished, “He spray-painted a car once.”
“Everyone in this gym will receive a special commemorative print on your way out.” The crowd cheered as people came up to congratulate Breslin.
An official-looking woman came up to Cam and said, “The mayor would like to speak with you next week about commissioning an entire series of historical painting for the town,” and she handed him a business card and said, “Give me a call on Monday morning.” Cam looked over to the mayor, who nodded and smiled.
“Before you run out and get those posters, we have one more announcement. For that, I will call on Dave Abrahams.” He looked at Dave and said, “David.”
Dave stepped in front of the scorer’s table and before he could speak, the chant of “D.A.!” was ignited. He smiled and looked through the crowd at his proud parents and sister, his teammates, Coach Doherty, and the Matt Phillips, who was instantly five years-old again and chanting for his hero.
He put his right hand in the air and then turned his undivided attention to Sarah, who was glowing at first and then felt her stomach drop in knowing her man.
“Thank you. Thank you. We all left here 10 years ago eager to conquer the world outside Bailey Woods. What I discovered was that life is Bailey Woods. To be with our friends and family is a gift that is more precious than I can even put into words. Dave reached into his left sock and pulled out an object that he hid in the palm of his hand. He looked straight at Sarah, who was standing about 10 feet away. Her knees started to buckle like she was a freshman in her first game. He handed the microphone to Doherty, who followed Dave until he got to Sarah.
Dave continued, “Just about everything special in my life has happened on this court, including meeting you. There’s no sense in changing that today.”
He got down on one knee, his left, and said, “Sarah Elaine Lindman, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She started crying and emitted a barely audible, “Yes,” as she struggled to stay aloft while extending her left arm. Dave slid the sparkling engagement ring on her left ring finger. The crowd erupted and congratulations became the order of the day for Dave, Sarah, and Cameron. Even the central High players got caught up in the emotion of the after-game festivities – so much so that the two teams went out together to O’Malley’s after the game and partied to early the next morning, when Calvin Brown finally stop shadowing Dave.