Bucky swallowed hard. “Well, just . . .” He left the thought unfinished.
“See ya after Thanksgiving vacation, slugger,” Dan tossed over his shoulder. “December we really start to play . . . two a week, baby.” He swaggered out into the night.
A moment later Bucky followed. Over by the parking lot stood his parents, Rachel Marie holding hands with Mom.
Suddenly he heard a voice coming from his left. “Great game, Stone.” It was a girl’s voice, but low and husky. Curious, he turned. It was the blonde – and she was taller than he had realized when he had seen her in the bleachers.
“Oh, I . . . uh . . .” She must be five ten! he thought.
She laughed, a deep mysterious chuckle. “See you.” Then she disappeared around the corner of the huge building.
Bucky shook his head in confusion. What in the world?
A moment later Dad clapped him on the back. “Well, you got in!” he beamed. “And not a minute too soon!”
His son grinned. “What did you think of that play at the end? Pretty slick, huh?”
Mom gave Rachel Marie a tug. “I thought that boy was shooting it,” she exclaimed. “I said to Dad, ‘Oh, no, he missed it!’ And then I saw you catch it and make the basket.”
“You played good, Bucky,” Rachel Marie declared, her hand tightly in Morn’s.
He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks, baby.”
“Who was that girl talking to you back there?” Dad asked as they climbed into the car.
The boy shook his head. “I have no idea. She seems to know me, though.”
Dad laughed. “You boys have miracle finishes like that very often, and pretty soon everybody in town’ll know ya.” He started the engine. “‘Specially the girls.”
Sitting in the front seat, Mom frowned but didn’t say anything.
• • • • •
“What’d I tell you?” Coach Walker chortled. “Litton and Stone did it for you again! Talk about déjá vu!”
The younger coach sat at his desk thinking. “I gotta admit those two guys carry all the rest of ‘em. Boy, what a mess,” he said, shaking his head. Then he looked up at the older athletic director. “I mean, I figured I’d just let ‘em both ride the bench. Sooner or later they’d get tired of it and quit.” He sighed. “But then when we were down twelve like that, I really didn’t have any choice. During practice Stone and Litton were the only two guys with any court sense to run plays.”
“That’s a sweet give-and-go move they’ve put together,” Walker observed.
Brayshaw nodded. “Yeah. They got a couple hoops out of that, didn’t they?”
The older coach looked directly at him. “Ted, what are you gonna do about all this?”
Coach Brayshaw threw up his hands. “What can I do?” he growled. “After tonight I gotta let Stone play.” He snorted. “If I don’t make him a starter, folks around here are gonna paste up mean posters about me on the walls.” He picked up a stopwatch on his desk and fiddled nervously with it. “I dunno, there’s something about that kid I just can’t figure out.”
Mr. Walker sank down into the one free chair in the cramped office. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s not just that he plays so well.” He looked over at the other man. “I mean, there never was any question about that. Baseball and basketball – he’s a talented kid. As good as anyone on campus.”
“What then?”
Mr. Brayshaw shook his head in bafflement. “Somehow he just sparks the guys up. Even those guys that really don’t like him all that much.” He cocked his head. “I mean, even riding the bench, he was always boostin’ the other players on, taking part in those little huddle rah-rahs we do. Know what I mean?”
Coach Walker nodded. “Face it, Ted, he’s a leader.” He paused, thinking. “Every now and then you have a kid come along who’s just plain a champ. Win or lose, he’s all champion.” Looking the younger coach in the eye, he said, “Your Bucky Stone is that kind of man.”
The JV coach nodded reluctantly. “Yeah.” He sighed again. “Why him?”
Coach Walker became sober. “You know something, Ted? It’s him being a Christian.”
Brayshaw raised his hands in frustration. “That stuff again,” he complained.
“In my mind, there’s no two ways about it. With this kid it’s Chariots of Fire all over again.” His voice softened. “He’s out there playing for God, Ted. And how are you going to beat that?”
“Yeah.” The younger man sighed heavily. “Guess I better suck it up and make my peace with them both.”
• • • • •
The Monday after Thanksgiving, Bucky entered the locker area with a sense of expectancy. Already he was noticing a thawing of the emotional barrier that had separated him from his teammates. He sat down in front of his assigned cubicle and was just about to slip his shirt off when he noticed a note fluttering from the metal locker door. “Please stop by my office. T.B.”
T.B. was Coach Brayshaw. Mystified and with a sense of foreboding, he slipped across the hall to the coach’s cubicle.
“Coach? You wanted to see me?” Bucky tried to keep his voice steady.
The man motioned him in. For several moments he said nothing, his fingers playing nervously with a whistle cord on his desk. Finally he looked up. “I guess we better clear the air,” he said at last.
“OK.” Bucky sat motionless.
“First of all, you played a great game last week. That was a terrific five minutes you gave me.”
“Thanks.”
Coach Brayshaw took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to say this,” he added reluctantly, “but I guess I should apologize as well for how things turned out last school year. . . and then the beginning of this year.” He paused. “I didn’t give you a fair shot – and I’m sorry. Plus I overreacted to the whole cheating scandal and you coming in to tell us. Which, hey, was in the rulebook. So . . .”
“I, uh . . .” Bucky struggled to find his voice. “It’s OK,” he managed at last. “Really.” He forced a grin. “All’s well that ends well, Coach.”
The sports director nodded. “Glad to have that behind us, then.” Coach Brayshaw managed a sincere smile looked him squarely in the eye. “Glad to have you on board, Stone.” They shook hands.
Bucky returned to the locker area tingling all over. To have things resolved with Coach Brayshaw was a miracle he had never anticipated. Thank you, Lord, he breathed.
Just then the front door to the complex opened and Dan Litton breezed in. “Stone!” A wide smile split his face as he made his way over to the younger player. Suddenly he staggered and fell forward heavily.
“Dan!” Bucky darted forward. “Are you OK?”
The older boy tried to lift his face off the concrete floor. “Ready to play,” he murmured thickly.
Recoiling from the stench of alcohol, Bucky realized that Dan was drunk!
Chapter Ten: Fight!
Frantically Bucky looked around, anger and disgust rising in his throat. For the moment the locker area was empty. Lifting Dan by the armpits, he pulled him to a sitting position. “Dan! Listen to me!” He licked his lips nervously. “What are you doin’ here?”
His friend looked at him stupidly. “Whattya mean? Jusht here for practish.” His words were slurred.
“How much have you had to drink?” Bucky’s voice had a raw edge to it.
“Dunno. Some beer.” Dan’s head lolled forward.
For a moment Bucky sat thinking. Finally he stood. “I gotta get you out of here,” he announced firmly. “But first I’m going to see Coach Brayshaw.”
“No!” For the first time, Dan spoke clearly. Then he slumped forward again. “Coach’ll . . . really get . . . mad.” His face flushed as he strained to form the words.
“Tough.” Turning on his heel, Bucky crossed the hall to the office he had left so lightheartedly moments before. “Coach?”
Glancing up from his desk, Mr. Brayshaw brightened. “Y
eah? What is it?”
The boy’s voice was strained. “Coach?” he said again. “I . . . it’s Dan.”
The athletic director looked at him curiously. “Speak up! Dan what?”
The boy fumbled for words. “Well . . . that is, he’s . . . drunk.” He motioned with his head. “Out in the locker area.”
“Drunk!” The coach’s head jerked back. “Now? In the middle of the afternoon?”
Bucky shook his head regretfully. “He’s practically passed out.”
Coach Brayshaw’s face tightened as he stood up. A second later he sat back down again, glancing at his watch. “Five minutes till practice,” he growled to himself. He looked away from Bucky, thinking. Then his jaw jutted forward as he made a decision.
“Look, Stone, you gotta help me,” he said pleadingly. “Get him out of here. Now!”
“But I . . .”
“Please! Do you have any idea what this could do to the team? Get him out! I don’t care how. Get him fixed up somehow.”
The boy’s head swam. “I . . . sure.” He looked at the coach. “But I don’t know how to help . . . someone like that.”
The director’s eyes were desperate. “Do your best,” he muttered. “You’re the only kid on the team who has any . . .” He left the thought unfinished.
Bucky nodded miserably. “OK.”
Quickly he made his way back to the lockers. To his relief the one aisle was still empty. In a far corner one of the second string players was suiting up but didn’t appear to have noticed Dan’s condition.
“Pssssst!” He sat down next to the drunken athlete. “I’m getting you outta here.”
Slowly Dan looked up. “What ‘bout practish?”
“Not today. We’re goin’ home.”
“OK.” Dan staggered to his feet, his voice thundering in the locker room. “I prob’ly wouldn’t play to my peak . . . peak . . . performansh.” He smirked at own clumsiness of speech.
“Shut up!” Bucky hissed. “Just don’t say nothin’.”
“OK, sh . . . shlugger.”
Taking Dan by the arm, Bucky tried to shield him from the view of anyone who might enter the sport complex. Quickly he made up his mind what to do. “Where’s your car?”
“Back lot.”
Bucky nodded in relief. There was a good chance they could slip to the remote parking area without anyone seeing them. “Give me your keys,” he demanded.
For a moment Dan resisted. “I can drive,” he protested thickly.
“No way!” Bucky’s voice was firm. “I’m taking you home and that’s all there is to it. No discussion. You’re a mess, man.”
“OK.” At last Dan seemed to accept his situation.
Easing him into the passenger seat of the expensive sports car, Bucky nervously slid behind the wheel. With only a learner’s permit in his pocket, the trip was going to be clearly illegal. “I don’t know what else to do, Lord,” he whispered. “Just get us home safely.”
Starting the powerful engine, he maneuvered the car slowly out of the high school campus and onto the street. Dan, semi-conscious in the seat next to him, was barely able to point out directions, but eight nervous minutes later Bucky pulled up in front of the Litton residence. Heaving a huge sigh of relief he switched off the engine and breathed a prayer of thanksgiving.
“Let’s go inside,” he said, climbing out of the car. Opening the passenger door, he helped Dan stagger up the sidewalk and glanced briefly at the ragged lawn. “Are your folks home?”
Slowly Dan shook his head. “Just my dad lives here,” he muttered. “Folks divorced two years ago.”
Trying the front door, Bucky found it unlocked. They entered the darkened living room. For a moment it was all Bucky could do to keep from gasping. The house was a disaster.
Piles of trash and debris lay everywhere. Several days’ worth of dirty dishes sat in the sink or were scattered across the cracked dining room table. The sideboard contained a nearly empty bottle of vodka and several cans of beer littered the floor. A puddle of sticky liquid oozed into the carpet from one that hadn’t quite been finished off.
“Dan?” Bucky’s voice was softer now, more sympathetic. “How about a shower? Get you sobered up.”
“‘Kay,” he whispered, nodding in agreement.
“I’ll wait out here for you.”
A few minutes later he could hear the shower running in the next room. Glancing around, he began to pick up some of the debris and beer cans. Fifteen minutes later the living area, while still dark and untidy, bore at least a semblance of order.
A figure appeared in the doorway. Dan managed a weak smile.
“Feelin’ better?” Bucky motioned for him to sit down on the now vacated couch.
“Yeah.” Dan’s voice was shaky. It would take hours yet before his body would be able to get rid all the alcohol in it. He looked over at Bucky. “Thanks for your help.”
Before speaking Bucky looked down at his feet for a moment. “How’d you come to be sloshed like this in the middle of the day?”
A long pause. “I don’t know.”
“Have you been drunk before? At school, I mean? I know you got wasted last spring. When you broke your ankle.”
Reluctantly Dan nodded. For a second he hesitated.
Bucky waited. “Want to tell me about it?” Out on the street he could hear an occasional car go by.
For a long time Dan sat in silence, struggling with his thoughts. He seemed to be wrestling with some decision. Finally, as if an emotional dam had burst, he began to talk. “You may as well know it,” he began, his words coming in a rush. “I’m pretty much goin’ at it all the time.”
“Drinking?”
“Yeah.” Dan looked away, his face scarlet. “I keep stuff in the car, in my locker . . .” His voice trailed away.
“Drugs, too?”
Dan shook his head emphatically. “Nah. Just booze.” His voice was tired and still slurred.
“How long has this been going on?”
The older boy gestured around him. “As long as this,” he said simply. “My mom left, and my dad started drinking.” He paused. “Didn’t take very long before it got to be a team effort. He’s got me beat, but not by much.”
For several minutes neither boy said a word. Almost instinctively Bucky realized that he was in way over his head. Dan needed professional help with his drinking problem. At the same time, he longed to find a way to meet his friend’s even more desperate spiritual need. Help me, Lord, he pleaded inwardly.
At last he broke the heavy silence. “Dan,” he began, “I want to help you all I can.”
“Thanks.” The response was little more than a whisper.
Bucky looked his friend in the eye. A flood of memories – moments of shared athletic triumph – tugged at him. He realized with a start how much he cared about his friend.
“I don’t know what I can do to help you beat this drinking thing,” he said slowly. “‘Specially with you living here right in the middle of all this.” As Dan said nothing, Bucky took a deep breath. “For a long time, I’ve been kind of waiting . . . to talk to you about God,” he said at last. “Waiting for the right time. But I guess that’s now.”
Dan made an almost imperceptible nod.
“Despite the fact of how you must be feeling right now, I guess you can see now how much you need him,” Bucky added softly. “Nobody can get you through this stuff except him.” He put his hand on his friend’s arm. “Believe me, I know.”
For a good half hour the two talked about Dan’s spiritual condition. Dan began to pour out his soul to the younger boy. Several times Bucky breathed quick prayers for answers to his probing questions.
Finally he stood. “I guess I better be going,” he said reluctantly. He looked out through the dirty picture window at the setting sun. Suddenly an idea struck him. “Why don’t you come over for supper?”
Dan’s eyes brightened. “Do you think it’d be OK?”
“Sure.” Without
meaning to, Bucky’s eyes scanned the untidy room.
Noticing it, Dan grinned weakly. “Yeah, I know. Pretty sad, ain’t it?”
Out in the driveway, waiting for Dan to scribble a note to his dad, Bucky felt for the car keys still in his pocket. He looked up as the other boy came out the front door. “You able to drive yet?”
Dan stood by the car thinking. For a moment the old bravado threatened to break through. “Sure! You kidding?” Then a strange look came into his eyes. Abruptly he shook his head. “I better not. ‘Fraid I won’t be in condition to do that for hours yet.”
Reluctant to take the wheel a second time under less than emergency conditions, Bucky hesitated.
“Why don’t we walk?” Dan suggested. “How far is it?”
“‘Bout a mile.”
“That’ll make up for the laps we missed at practice.”
• • • • •
Two days later Bucky walked toward the athletic complex with new optimism. As he made his way down the sun-drenched sidewalk, his thoughts returned to the evening meal Dan had enjoyed with the Stone family.
“This is great!” the older boy had exclaimed over and over, wolfing down several helpings of Mom’s recipes. Bucky grinned now, remembering the bemused smile on his mother’s face as she watched him eat. And she had said nothing about Dan’s still slightly slurred speech.
It was after supper that Dan had nodded eagerly when Bucky invited him to accept Jesus as his Saviour. A lump of emotion came into his throat now as he remembered Dan’s stumbling but heartfelt prayer.
He pulled open the door and sat down in front of his locker, twisting the familiar dial.
“Stone?”
He glanced up. Brayshaw stood there with an expectant look.
“Yeah?”
Coach looked around nervously. The room was empty for the moment. “How’d it go?” he asked in a low tone.
Bucky nodded. “Good,” he said simply. “I think we got things straightened out.”
The athletic director heaved a sigh of relief. “This drinking a pretty steady problem?” His voice was still guarded.
A nod. “Uh huh.” Briefly Bucky explained Dan’s home situation. The coach frowned in worry. “But things are going to be different,” Bucky asserted confidently. He weighed his words, then took a breath and looked at his coach directly. “Dan’s a Christian now.”
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 29