Either way, I settled in to watch the fireworks. The first thing I noticed was that Muni didn’t look bored anymore. He looked determined. This was the grudge match both teams had been waiting for: Bears versus Cougars. I turned to say something to Jammer about it, but he was gone. I knew the score there, too.
If the Bears were playing Muni’s squad, that meant my team was taking on Jammer’s. The two winners would play in the championship game. Jammer and Khalid were my friends, but now they were my opponents, too. I caught a glimpse of them farther down the bench, leaning in and whispering something to Benoit. They were probably telling him every last thing about my game.
As usual, Deuce read my mind. “So, Jammer’s crew, huh?” he said.
I nodded.
“Tough matchup,” said Mike.
“No doubt,” I said.
The game got started out on the court. The lights were on now, and Overtime was calling the action from over at the scorer’s table. Everything felt more charged and electric now that we were in the second round. The crowd felt it, too, cheering the scores and booing the fouls, oohing and aahing at the most exciting plays. And there were a lot of those.
Muni was still doing his thing, just not quite as often. The Bears knew his tricks better than anyone here, and Joe was a tough defender. Meanwhile, Kelvin and Fabrice were battling down low. K-man was bigger, but Fabrice was taller. Every rebound was war.
With Bibo out, I was wondering where the Bears would get most of their points. Isaac answered that with his first warp-speed drive down the lane. I leaned in closer. I’d never seen him operate like this. I was used to him setting up Bibo or me, or maybe dumping it to Kelvin. Now he was looking to score and using his speed to do it.
The game stayed close. With a few minutes left, I knew I should be talking strategy with Mike and Deuce, but I couldn’t peel my eyes away. The Bears were my friends, too — and my teammates at school. And the Cougars were my rivals.
It all came down to defense. The Bears were up by one, but Muni had the ball with a handful of seconds left. Joe was playing him tight, like he had all game. Muni jabbed his left foot forward, looking to create some space. Then he stepped back for the shot.
Joe didn’t bite. He’d seen that move before in the game we’d played against the Cougars. He stayed tight and forced Muni to adjust his shot. And that’s how it goes, you know? Sometimes games end with a swish and sometimes they end with a clang. The ball hit the front rim and bounced away. Bears win!
I was still cheering when the ref came over to Mike, Deuce, and me. “Five minutes till the tip,” he said.
I looked over at Jammer’s crew, still talking strategy. Then I looked at Mike and D. We had to make up for lost time. We huddled up and I started telling them everything I knew about Jammer and Khalid. Toward the end, I concentrated on just telling Deuce about Khalid’s best moves and tricks. I’d guard Jammer myself. As for Mike, I looked over at Benoit and told him what he already knew: “You’re bigger than that guy. If he wants to take those circus shots outside, I say we let him and you just vacuum up the rebounds.”
“You sure?” said Mike.
I considered our options. That whole team could score, and there was no way Mike could hang with Benoit on the outside.
“I think it’s our best shot,” I said.
We all looked at one another.
“Our best shot,” said Deuce.
Mike and I repeated it. Then we put our hands in the center of the huddle: “One, two, three … Go, team!” And we took the court.
* * *
Before I get to the score and all of that, let me just say one thing: We battled! The guys on Jammer’s team were a year or two older than we were, and they were tourney vets, “core guys,” the best of the best.
What were we? Best friends and fearless! And, all right, I was a “core guy,” too. I hung tough with Jammer all game. It was a little weird because I’d learned so much of my game from him. But I’d learned it well, and I could match his size and hops.
The score was tied early, and we were playing well. Jammer had the ball at the top of the key, and I was in front of him with good position. He threw a couple of little fakes my way, but I stayed squared up in front of him and he gave the ball up.
I didn’t exactly make him do it. He just realized something: Why go toe-to-toe with me when there are easier opportunities all around? He passed the ball to Benoit a few steps outside the lane. If he was out a little farther, Mike would’ve let him take the shot, like we’d talked about. But Benoit was too close — and too good — to leave alone now. Mike jumped out to guard him.
I saw a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. “Watch out, Deuce!” I called, but it was too late. Khalid had already turned the corner. And by stepping out, Mike had opened up the lane. Khalid scored the way a cobra strikes: so fast you almost wonder if it really happened.
It really happened. That was the moment I knew how this was going to play out. I could hang with Jammer — I even scored one more bucket than him. But my teammates just didn’t have the experience to match these vets yet.
We kept it close enough. Toward the end, I started feeding Mike and Deuce, looking to get them some more buckets before the end. And then the time was up — and our run was over.
“Good game, man,” I said after the air horn went off, reaching out to shake Jammer’s hand.
He looked down at my hand and shook his head: No. That kind of surprised me. I thought we were cool. And then he hugged me. It was an awkward, guy hug, but still. It surprised me even more.
“You’re a warrior, man,” he said. Then he walked over to shake hands with Mike and D, and I did the same with Khalid and Benoit.
Now that the final game was set, everyone was buzzing about the showdown between the tourney vets and the Bears. A food cart had shown up right as the tournament was starting. We’d steered clear of it while we still had games to play, but now we were ready to chow down.
I walked up into the bleachers to get some money. I got some pats on the back and “Good games” on the way up.
“Hey, Dad,” I said when I reached his row. “Can I borrow a few bucks?”
“You can have ’em,” he said. “I’m proud of you, son.”
“I lost,” I said.
He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Good game, anyway,” said Junior, and we bumped fists.
“Nice goggles,” said Manny, and I laughed, since they were just like the ones he wore to work. Then I handed my goggles to Dad for safekeeping and headed back down to Mike and D.
Deuce got two hot dogs, and Mike got three (of course). I wasn’t so down with the mystery meat, but I got a jumbo-size hot pretzel. Then we found seats in the front row after the other players shoved over and made some room.
As the game started, I couldn’t help thinking that I could be on either one of those teams. I could be playing for the Classic title right now. But then I looked to one side and saw Mike chowing down and cheering at the same time. I looked to the other and saw Deuce, so into the game he didn’t realize he had a big glob of ketchup on his shorts. I looked past them and saw the other players, still here after they’d been eliminated, still cheering. I saw all that and I knew I’d made the right decision.
And the game? It was a good one, but I don’t think anyone was too surprised when Jammer’s team pulled away toward the end. Both teams left the court smiling, anyway. The veterans had won it all, but the Bears had made it to the end — and beaten Muni along the way.
The long night was almost over. All that was left was presenting the MVP trophy at center court. I headed out to get a better view. I had plenty of time. Overtime was still hobbling around the table, so I angled over that way.
“Need any help, OT?” I said.
“All I can get,” he said. “But for starters, could you grab the trophy?”
“Sure,” I said. I plucked Dad’s MVP trophy off the scorer’s table,
and we headed out onto the court, nice and slow.
I looked down at the beautiful wood and brass trophy as I went. I was going to be sad to hand it over.
Overtime’s deep voice reverberated through the microphone: “And the MVP award for the twentieth annual edition of the Classic goes to …”
The crowd had made its way down from the bleachers and onto the court all around us. Now they leaned in for the announcement — even though they could probably hear it in the next town over.
“James Jamison, or as you probably know him — Jammer!”
The crowd cheered. It was no surprise. He’d been the best player on the best team. He deserved it. I was a little disappointed not to win, but mostly I was happy for Jammer.
I held out the trophy — but I wasn’t the only one doing that. One of the volunteers who’d showed up with Overtime was holding out another trophy. Jammer walked over and took that one.
Overtime must’ve seen the look of total confusion on my face, because he sort of interrupted himself. “Now, just a second, just a second,” he said. “I’m going to ask Jammer to say a few words in a moment, but first I want to clear something up. Some of you are probably wondering why we’ve got one MVP and two trophies out here today.”
I knew I was. I looked at OT and nodded like a bobblehead.
“Well, that’s because we don’t have one MVP,” he said. “We have two!”
There were a few whoops from the crowd and then Overtime went on. “There’s a young man here today. Now, his team didn’t win it all, but he played hard and he played well. But more important than all of that, I can honestly say, if it wasn’t for him, this tournament never would have happened.”
There was a buzzing in my ears. I could see a few dozen eyes turn toward me.
“Amar’e,” said Overtime, nodding toward the trophy in my hands. “You can keep that. You earned it.”
The crowd cheered. I was so surprised that I just stood there with my mouth open. I was lucky I didn’t catch any flies!
“Now, Jammer, you want to say a few words?”
Jammer took the mic. “Uh, yes, sir. I’d just like to say” — he looked around at the crowd and then pointed back toward Overtime — “I agree with what he said!”
The crowd laughed. He handed the mic back to Overtime, and took his trophy back out from under his arm. Then he turned to me and said, “You ready, STAT? On the count of three: one … two …”
I knew exactly what he meant. I closed my mouth into a big smile and waited for “three.” When he said it, we both raised our trophies high over our heads. The crowd went bonkers, and you know what? I kind of did, too.
It wasn’t just the trophy; it was what it represented. It was everything that went into it, everything and everyone. They were all around me now, my friends and my family.
With a crutch in one hand and the mic in the other, it took OT a while to make it over to me. “You have anything you want to say, Amar’e?”
He handed me the microphone. I put the trophy under my arm and took it. “Yes, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask all day.”
The crowd got silent, waiting to hear what burning question I had on my mind.
“Can I sign your cast?”
There was laughter all around us. Overtime looked down at the shiny white cast on his leg. There wasn’t a single signature on it. Then he looked up to see the whole crowd inching toward him. I saw his Adam’s apple move: Gulp! He knew that once the signing started, we’d be here for a while.
That was fine with me. It would give me a chance to thank everyone I needed to: my family, my friends, my rivals — and you, too. Thanks for reading my books!
Special thanks to Michael Northrop
AMAR’E STOUDEMIRE, captain of the New York Knicks and a six-time NBA All-Star, is a well-respected professional basketball player. He has made a name for himself as a leader and positive force on the court and in the community. The Amar’e Stoudemire Foundation creatively inspires youth to avoid poverty through education. He is the father of four children.
Text copyright © 2014 by Amar’e Stoudemire Enterprises
Illustrations copyright © 2014 by Scholastic Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Cover and interior art by Tim Jessell
Original cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll
First printing, January 2014
e-ISBN 978-0-545-60618-9
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
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