“See ya tomorrow, Gramps. I’m going to my game now but I’ll be thinking about you.”
Gramps opened his good eye about halfway and then he tried to say something. I didn’t need to ask him what he was saying. Before every basketball game he always said, “Knock ‘em dead, Colette” as I was walking out the front door and I always turned around and said, “I won’t be that hard on them.”
“I won’t be that hard on them,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’ll remember every play so I can tell you all about it.”
“Time to go,” my dad said.
“Okay. Bye, Gramps.” I kissed his bad cheek.
“Bye,” Gramps said. It didn’t quite sound like it used to, it was more like ba but I didn’t care. Gramps understood what we said and tried to talk back.
Chapter Twelve
The Big Game
My dad dropped me off at the basketball court at 6:00 pm. I ran down to the locker room to change into my basketball uniform. We didn’t have full uniforms like the boys did but I liked mine all the same. We had really cool shirts with our names on the back and a number. My number was twelve and although it wasn’t my favorite number, it had begun to grow on me halfway through the season.
To finish my uniform, I wore a pair of cutoff jeans. They were my lucky shorts and I couldn’t play basketball without them. Only once did I play a game without my cutoffs because they were in the wash. It was the worst game of my life and I couldn’t even make a lay-up. The Bloomer had even passed me a couple of passes down by the basket that I caught and should have easily scored. Instead, my first shot went right over the hoop to the other side missing the basket completely. My second shot kind of hopped around the rim like it couldn’t decide what to do. It fell to the floor, bounced over a guard on the other team, and then it landed squarely on the Bloomer’s chest. She got so excited that she drove for the basket and made a nice little lay-up. Two points for the Bloomer and the team. Well, I tell you, I got so flustered that I didn’t take another shot the rest of the game.
I said hi to the girls in the locker room and pulled my cutoffs out of the bag. They had been washed for a couple of weeks since the last game but I would have worn them dirty, believe me. I quickly changed into my number twelve basketball shirt and my lucky shorts.
“Isn’t this exciting?” The Bloomer came running over. “I just can’t believe it. The two years I’m on the team we go to the city championship. I must be the lucky star.”
The Bloomer hugged me. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do without you next year.”
“I’ll miss you too.” I was surprised at the words that rolled out of my mouth but I never said anything like that unless I meant it so I guess I was going to miss the Bloomer after all.
I went upstairs, grabbed a basketball, and ran over to where members of the team were practicing.
The coach trotted over. “Okay, girls, line up for our practice. Everybody move into position.”
We lined up in three lines so we could practice doing lay-ups from the right side, the left side, and down the middle. Then each of us had to shoot ten freethrows.
I finished my freethrows and ran to the sideline. Before I sat down, I looked up in the stands. There was my dad waving his hat like Gramps always did. Sitting next to him was Aunt Florence smiling like a Cheshire cat.
Sally and her family sat a couple of rows behind my dad and Aunt Florence, or at least Sally was sitting. Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds were nodding with grimaces on their faces to the people around them and it looked like they were saying, “Pardon me.” They had thought ahead this time because Joe and Eric couldn’t have been farther away from each other.
Coach Brennan told us to gather round. “All right, girls, this is it. We’ve been working for this all year. There are only two teams here tonight and you’re one of them. I’m proud of each and every one of you. Now, go out there and give it your heart like you always do. Starters are Lynch, Schmit, and Henderson as guards and Doyle, Gustafson, and Klein as forwards. Okay, let’s say a prayer.”
We put our right hands in the middle and held on while we said the “Our Father.” Then the coach said, “Lord, thank you for bringing us to this point.” The gong sounded.
The tallest girl on our team was Shannon Doyle so she was our jump ball person. She ran, clapping her hands, to the circle in the middle. The ref blew his whistle, then bent one knee while he catapulted the ball straight up in the air. Doyle jumped up and tipped the ball to one of our team.
I perched on the edge of my seat so I wouldn’t miss a dribble. Our team passed a lot and kept moving until we got someone close to the basket. That someone was Doyle. She was open right by the basket and she tipped in an easy one. Everybody breathed a sigh of relief because it meant the game was really underway. The ball went to the other side and St. Margaret scored too. Our guards quickly passed the ball to the middle of the court and over to the forwards.
“Klein is open,” I yelled. Doyle stopped and fired the ball to Klein, who was waiting under the basket. She dribbled once, then laid the ball against the backboard square. Another two points for us. We all clapped and cheered.
The game continued like this for the whole first quarter. Every time we got two points, the other team scored and tied it up. When the buzzer rang, we were just two points ahead.
We formed a circle around the coach. He drew different plays on the board, circled things, and drew lines from one to another. Soon the board was filled with circles and lines, circles and lines. It would have been confusing but I knew his favorite play was the “Give and go.”
“As soon as you pass the ball, go towards the basket. Whoever gets the ball, pass it back immediately. Okay, get back in there and keep on doing what you’re doing,” Coach Brennan said.
The girls ran out to the court, took up their positions, and the second quarter started. It seemed like every time St. Margaret missed a shot, they got the rebound and worked it for a basket. We seesawed back and forth and by the time half-time came I felt completely worn out from yelling and screaming. The score was St. Anastasia, 32 and St. Margaret, 32. Tied up.
We went into the locker room during half-time and sat on the benches. The coach gave us exactly two minutes to relax, then he was all business. “Okay, girls, listen up. I’m proud of the way you’re hanging in there and not giving an inch. We’re evenly matched,” Coach Brennan said. He paced back and forth, back and forth. “This is what we’re going to do. We have to change the momentum of the game. That means we can’t let them score every time we score.”
Coach Brennan ran his hands through his black hair two times. “What we have to do is steal the ball away from them after we score. We won’t let the ball get across the middle. We can beat them with our speed. I’m taking Gustafson out and putting McGiver in.”
I was all ears now. There was a collective shocked silence with me being the most shocked of all. I felt the eyes of the whole team on me. “Gustafson is doing good, Coach,” I said.
“This has nothing to do with whether Gustafson is playing well. What this has to do with is the fact that you’re the fastest one on the team. You had more steals for the time you played than anyone. So, your job is to steal the ball away from St. Margaret’s and then pass to Doyle or Klein. And it has to be quick. Grab the ball and pass.” He bent down like he was grabbing the imaginary ball from me. As soon as he got the imaginary ball, he made an imaginary pass. “Got it?”
“Got it. But what if I can’t steal any?” I couldn’t believe it. He was putting his trust in a sixth grader. What if I let my team down? What if I lost the game for us? I would have to leave the court in disgrace and I probably wouldn’t even feel like playing next year.
“McGiver, are you with me?”
“I’m with you, Coach.”
“Good. Get out there and steal to your heart’s content.”
We ran back onto the court, took a few practice shots, and when the buzzer sounded, we hurried to our seats. Instead of sit
ting down, I ran out to the center of the court and took my position for the jump ball. I looked up in the stands long enough to see my dad and Aunt Florence clapping and yelling.
Doyle tipped the ball to Klein and she dribbled towards the basket. After quick passing back and forth, we scored. It was 34 to 32.
Now it was my chance. Instead of guarding my person, I waited halfway on our side of the court.
St. Margaret passed the ball from under our basket. The girl dribbled her three dribbles, stopped, pivoted, and quickly passed off to her teammate. My specialty was batting the ball away when the person dribbled. I zeroed in on where the ball was. My hand went out to knock the ball away and I got only air. I tried again. This time I got lucky. When my hand darted out I caught a small piece of the ball. It was enough to interrupt her concentration and the ball squirted away. St. Margaret grabbed the ball back and threw it over to the other side. I was disappointed but I knew I had my timing down.
The ball came back to us in no time since St. Margaret scored right away. As soon as I got the ball, I dribbled and passed to Klein who decided to set and shoot. The shot was off and St. Margaret rebounded. Well, I dashed across the court and with one move batted the ball away from their girl. Doyle grabbed the loose ball and scored.
St. Margaret got the ball again and I went into action. I was determined to get the ball back and not let it cross the middle line. I chased the first girl who passed to her teammate. I grabbed the ball from the second girl. I heaved the ball to Klein who sped towards the basket. She made an easy lay-up. It was 38 to 34.
I got into a rhythm in that game. I didn’t get the ball back for us every time but I did it enough to throw their game off. I hadn’t taken a shot the whole third quarter because that wasn’t my job. A missed shot ricocheted off the backboard and landed right in my stomach. I automatically did a hook shot and the ball went in. The buzzer rang signaling the end of the third quarter. The score was 44 to 38 with us still ahead.
The coach asked the team if we should play everyone or if we should stick with what we had been doing. The whole team said to stick with our third quarter strategy. I felt a slap on my shoulder from behind. I turned around. There was Patty Bloomer with the biggest grin on her face I had ever seen. “You’re winning the game for us,” she said.
The fourth quarter started with a bang. Doyle tipped the ball to Klein and we were off. Klein dribbled three times, passed to me, and I passed right back to her. She did a quick lay-up and scored.
St. Margaret got the ball to their forwards immediately; no fooling around. I didn’t even have time to try to steal. They scored too. When it was time for our team to bring the ball back to center court, St. Margaret double teamed anyone who had the ball. It made our girls nervous. Anyway, St. Margaret blocked the ball and got it back. They scored again. The game was a real nail biter as Gramps would say.
“Time-out,” Coach Brennan yelled.
Doyle put one hand on top of the other to make a tee. The ref blew his whistle and we ran to the sidelines.
“Okay, girls. St. Margaret is doing to us what we did to them last quarter. We have to get our momentum back.”
“Do you want me out, Coach?” I asked.
“No, you’re still in. Gustafson, go in for Klein. Henderson, stay. Schmit, Lynch, out. You look tired. Take a rest. Ryan, go in for Schmit. Olsen, go in for Lynch. Don’t let St. Margaret get any easy shots. Make them work for the points.”
The buzzer sounded. We ran out onto the court. Henderson had the ball out of bounds down by St. Margaret’s basket. Ryan and Olsen ran back and forth at breakneck speed trying to get open. Henderson threw the ball to Ryan, who was immediately fouled. The game was turning ugly.
The ball came down to our end of the court and I had to shoot at the free throw line. I made the one shot. The bad thing about getting just one free throw was that the other team got the ball under the basket and I had only scored one point. I had to get the ball back. St. Margaret passed the ball in quickly and started dribbling toward center court. I was in swift pursuit of the ball but the girl rifled it to their forward.
There was one minute 47 seconds left in the game. I kept glancing up at the scoreboard.
St. Margaret scored again. They didn’t seem to be missing many of their shots. It was a one point game.
The coach was on his feet and signaling for another time-out. “Okay, girls. Take a deep breath and drink some water. This is what we are going to do. You know the fast break. We’re going to add a wrinkle. It’s going to be the guards throwing the ball from the other side.”
We were all supposed to run towards the basket as soon as the guards got the ball. Then, after we scored I had to steal the ball back so we could score again. It was as simple as that. I didn’t tell the coach that I thought St. Margaret was on to me.
We ran out to the middle of the court. St. Margaret got the ball after the jump. They ran towards their basket lickety-split and before we knew it, they had scored. They were ahead by one.
As soon as our guards got the ball inbounds, the forwards ran towards the basket. Henderson threw with all her might and the ball took a couple of crazy bounces and landed almost in Gustafson’s lap. She immediately dribbled towards the basket, shot, and scored. St. Margaret was in a state of shock but it wouldn’t last so we had to take advantage. When they threw the ball inbounds, I was ready. I hurled my body at the ball. I seized it, threw it to Gustafson who was waiting, and she scored again. One minute 21 seconds away from victory.
St. Margaret passed quickly to center court. One of their girls ran toward the basket. The ball came flying towards her. She snatched the ball, dribbled, and started to go in for a lay-up. Henderson tried to slap the ball out of the air but instead smacked the girl’s arm. The whistle blew. The girl went to the free-throw line. She shot right away without setting and missed. She took her time the second shot, dribbled a couple of times, set, and shot. Swish.
As soon as our girls got the ball in, they threw it down the court. The ball was down by the basket but none of us were there so the ball went out of bounds. St. Margaret got the ball back. I tried my hardest to steal but they were passing too fast. The ball was at their end of the court before I could blink twice. This time Ryan fouled the girl trying to score. She sunk both free throws. The game was tied 51-51.
When Ryan got the ball, she let it sail. I stayed at mid court while Doyle and Gustafson went off towards the basket. The ball flew just past me. I ran after it, grabbed it, and looked for my team. Doyle and Gustafson were trying to get free of the three St. Margaret’s guards who were waving their arms crazily. I didn’t know what to do. I dribbled my three dribbles and looked again. There were five girls running around by the basket. I had no clear pass and no one was guarding me so I decided to shoot. I arced the ball through the air. It hung suspended for a second as it soared towards the basket. The ball hit the rim, the backboard, and the rim again. Then it dropped to the ground. The stands gave a big sigh.
St. Margaret seized the ball and they were on their way to the other side. Olsen kind of went crazy when the person she was guarding drove toward the basket. She flailed at her, one hand after another, just like a windmill. The ref blew the whistle. St. Margaret had no problem sinking two from the free-throw line. Olsen covered up her face while the girl made her free throws. They were ahead of us by two.
I was the only one near the middle so our guards got the ball to me and I started towards the basket. I wasn’t about to do what I did the last time. My three dribbles were up and I looked around. Gustafson came rushing past me with her arms outstretched. I passed her a hard pass in the chest. She hung on to it, darted toward the basket, and tried to shoot the ball when a St. Margaret’s girl threw herself at her. Anyway, Gustafson ended up sliding along on the floor. The ref blew his whistle.
We lined up in our places while Gustafson got ready to shoot the free throws. The first one went in. No problem. The second shot spun around and around the rim of the bask
et. While all of us watched the ball fell to the floor, took a gigantic bounce, and landed in the arms of a St. Margaret’s girl. She was off like a shot from a cannon. She threw the ball to her players on the other side. I glanced at the clock. Twenty nine seconds remained.
The coach for St. Margaret yelled, “Hang on to the ball. Stall.”
The girls started doing their three dribbles sideways and then passing to each other while staying by the middle of the court. Our poor guards were kept busy trying to get the ball back. It was chaos.
The people in the stands stood and yelled, “TEN.”
“NINE.”
“EIGHT.” I felt like running over the center line and stealing the ball.
“SEVEN.”
“SIX.”
“FIVE.” Henderson wrestled the ball away from the girl. The ref called a jump ball. Henderson jumped, tipped it to Ryan, who dribbled toward center court.
“FOUR.”
“THREE.”
“TWO.” Ryan hurled the ball toward the basket.
“ONE.” The gong sounded. The ball seemed to be in slow motion and for a second I thought it might have a chance. It bounced short of the basket and went out-of-bounds.
The St. Margaret’s bench went nuts. They were jumping up and down, hugging each other and screaming. We stood frozen for a few seconds and then kind of skulked off to the bench. Finally, Coach Brennan broke the silence.
“Girls, get in line and shake St. Margaret’s hands. I have to say this was one of the most exciting games I’ve ever had the pleasure of coaching. I’m proud of all of you.”
We shook hands in our line saying, “Good game,” to everyone. By the end of the line I was thinking it really was a good game.
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