Tournament of Champions

by Phil Bildner

“Watch me,” he said. “This is my breakfast of champions before the tournament of champions!”

  Diego had three full plates of food on his tray. One had a stack of pancakes and a mound of scrambled eggs. Another had two bagels and three blueberry muffins. The third was all bacon and sausage, and at the moment, he was stuffing bacon strips into his hoodie pouch.

  “Dessert for the bus ride,” he said, still bobbing his head.

  Even though the breakfast was all-you-can-eat, I only took an English muffin. After two bites, I already felt like I needed to puke.

  Maya slid into the booth across from me. “That’s all you’re eating?”

  “Not hungry,” I said.

  “He just saw his father,” Diego said.

  I shot him a look.

  “What?” He sucked down the strip of bacon that was dangling out of his mouth like it was a strand of spaghetti.

  “What’s wrong with your father?” Maya asked.

  “From what I was able to gather,” Diego said, “they’re not exactly close.”

  Ms. Yvonne and Red walked up. Ms. Yvonne sat down next to Maya. Red slid in next to me so that he was facing the door and so he could watch SportsCenter on the flat screen over the fireplace.

  “You’re not eating?” Ms. Yvonne said to me.

  I shook my head.

  “I don’t think Rip and his dad get along,” Diego said.

  “Shut up, Diego.”

  “I’m sorry I missed him,” Ms. Yvonne said. “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

  “I’m looking forward to thanking him,” Maya said. “We wouldn’t be here without him.”

  “He saved our butts,” Diego said.

  With my basketball eyes, I checked Red. His eyes were fixed on SportsCenter as he ate the top of his chocolate chip muffin. Red only eats muffin tops. He twists off the bottoms and gives them to me. He put the bottom on my plate.

  Diego took it. “You going to tell us what’s up with your—”

  “My father left when I was in first grade,” I said. I spoke softly. “He took a job in Hong Kong.”

  Ms. Yvonne, Maya, and Diego all stared. Red’s eyes stayed with the NBA playoff preview, but I could tell he was listening to everything.

  “My mom and him were already thinking about separating,” I said. “So he went. It was a five-year commitment.”

  Diego waved his fork. “That’s it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I thought he did something terrible. Like he had a secret family or he and your mom got into some big—”

  “He didn’t want to be with us,” I snapped. I gripped the back of my neck. “He chose work over his family.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Shut up, Diego.”

  * * *

  On the bus to Hoops Haven, I sat up front again. The rest of Clifton United sat in the back. Even Mega-Man did. Diego and Red offered to sit with me, but I told them I wanted to be alone for a few minutes.

  I twisted a lock above my ear at its root. We were about to walk into Hoops Haven. He was going to be there. For the rest of the day, he was going to be with Clifton United.

  I had to shift into basketball mode. No matter what. I had to be all basketball.

  “Bacon?” Diego slid into the seat beside me and held out a strip.

  I shook my head.

  “I came to see how you’re doing.” He popped the bacon into his mouth.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You look it.” Diego bobbed his head and chewed. Then he wiggled his fingers in front of my face. “I see a bundle of joy. Rainbows, unicorns, twinkling stars, and—”

  “I’m fine.” I leaned away.

  “Yo, it’s the Showdown, Rip.” He pulled another piece of bacon from his pouch. “You can’t let this ruin it. Whatever this is.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Maybe not, but I do understand one thing.” He shook his fingers. “This is the Showdown.”

  Pool Team

  “Ballin’!” Maya said as Clifton United walked into the office area of Hoops Haven.

  “We’re ranked number two,” A-Wu said, pointing to the ginormous scoreboard on the wall.

  The scoreboard looked like March Madness brackets, but none of the pairings had been posted yet. All the teams were listed on the side.

  I checked the office. I didn’t see him.

  “We’re not number two,” Mega-Man said, and flicked A-Wu’s ear. “The teams are in alphabetical order.”

  The office was located above the field house courts. I could hear the bouncing balls, squeaking sneakers, and echoing voices coming from the other side of the large window behind where the tournament officials were seated.

  “Hang out here for a sec,” Coach Acevedo said. He thumbed the officials. “Let me find out where we need to be.”

  The office door opened. I flinched. Some teenagers carrying mesh bags of basketballs walked in. One of them held the door for the grown-up behind him, who was pushing a hand truck loaded with bottled water.

  With both hands, I gripped the locks above my neck. Diego, Zoe, and Super-Size stood by the window looking at the courts. Maya, Red, and Mega-Man were passing around a basketball. Where was he? He had to be here. Was he down by the courts? Was he still outside? Was he—

  I wobbled. He was with Coach Acevedo. Shaking hands with Coach Acevedo. Smiling proud and motioning my way.

  “Is that your dad?” Maya asked. She caught the pass from Mega-Man and faced me.

  “Yeah.”

  My stomach felt like Halloween night again. Only a gazillion times worse.

  “Yo, the courts are sick!” Diego bounded over. “Come check them out.”

  My eyes stayed on Coach Acevedo and my father.

  Diego rested his arm on my shoulder. “You okay?”

  I swallowed. “I think so.”

  “Let’s do this.” Diego jump-turned to Mimi and gave her double pounds. “Let’s do this.”

  “Let’s circle up,” Coach Acevedo said. He waved the team to the corner with one hand and rested the other on my father’s shoulder. “I’d like to introduce you to the person who came through big-time for Clifton United. This is … What do you want us to call you?”

  My father shrugged. “You can call me … call me … call me David.” He looked at me.

  My eyes stayed on Coach Acevedo.

  “Thanks, David.” Maya waved.

  Speedy reached out and shook his hand.

  “I’m Yvonne Rivera,” Ms. Yvonne said, and stepped forward. “Very nice to meet you. Thank you so much.”

  “Good to see you again, David,” Diego said, waving his arms over his head and grinning.

  “Good to see you again, too, Diego.”

  “Good to see you again, Rip’s Dad,” Red added.

  “Red.” My father chin-nodded. “Great seeing you here, pal.”

  “I have our schedule,” Coach Acevedo said.

  “Who do we play?” Zoe asked.

  “We play a team called the Renegades first. That’s on court two at eight forty-five.”

  “Yo, this is going to be sick!” Diego jumped in circles. “I’m fired up, fired up, fired up!”

  “At eleven,” Coach Acevedo said, “we’re over on court six playing a team called Almond.”

  “Almond?” Mega-Man and Super-Size said at the same time.

  “That’s what they told me,” Coach Acevedo said. “These pool-play games determine the seedings for the next round.”

  My eyes still hadn’t left Coach Acevedo. I had to be all basketball. No distractions, no matter what.

  Easier said than done.

  The office door opened again. This time, another team walked in. It was the team from the pool. They were all wearing black hoodies and black shorts. Some had on headphones.

  “How’s it going, guys?” Hudson said.

  “Yo, what’s up?” Diego said.

  None of them answered. None of them looked our way. They ju
st walked straight to the door with the sign TO COURTS 1–8 above it.

  Coach B. nodded to Coach Acevedo as she passed. She didn’t break stride.

  “Whoa,” I said after they’d all left.

  “That was weird,” Mehdi said.

  “That was cold,” Speedy added.

  “That was gamesmanship,” Coach Acevedo said. “Ordinarily, I’d say if you don’t know what gamesmanship means, look it up when you get home. But since we’re not going home for a while, I’ll tell you.”

  “Head games,” I said.

  “Exactly,” Coach Acevedo said. “It’s a way of getting into your opponent’s head. It’s a little questionable at this level, but it’s perfectly legal.” He drew a circle in the air with his finger. “Don’t let them play you. Don’t be psyched out.”

  Renegades

  By the time we got downstairs to court two, the Renegades were already warming up. The Renegades were the team from the pool and the team from the lobby.

  We were completely psyched out.

  I stepped off our pregame layup line, folded my arms, and stared. Their uniforms were fresh—black and silver reversible jerseys, black shorts, black-and-white socks, and black high-tops. They could ball, too. Seriously ball. Carmelo, the kid with the Mohawk, was going to be a monster under the boards. Another kid with a Mohawk had a deadly outside shot. So did Andre. So did Noel. So did Freddie.

  I locked eyes with Kasaan, the kid from the pool who’d been all smiley and friendly. He was still all smiley, but this smile had an edge. He pinched the number five on his jersey, squared up, and took a shot from just inside the three-point circle.

  Swish.

  I looked away. My eyes went right to my father standing next to Ms. Yvonne along the sideline across from our team bench.

  My stomach churned. I was the floor general. I was supposed to be rising to the occasion. But right now, with Clifton United minutes from the opening tip of the Showdown—our first-ever tournament game—I was thinking about the man across the gym with the brown bomber jacket draped over his arm.

  I smacked the side of my head. Hard.

  I stepped back onto the rebounding line just in time to see Hudson fire a brick that didn’t even hit rim. A-Wu rebounded the miss and lobbed a lollipop pass to Speedy. She drove to the hoop for her layup, but as she went up she lost the handle and the ball sailed out of bounds.

  “Pick it up, United!” Diego clapped hard. “C’mon now. A little energy!”

  Completely. Psyched. Out.

  * * *

  “Should we just go home now?” Coach Acevedo asked. We’d circled up near the foul line. “That’s what it looks like we want—”

  “No way,” Diego interrupted angrily. His fists were clenched by his sides. “We’re here to play ball.”

  “That’s not what our body language is saying.” Coach Acevedo shook the basketball he held with both hands. “Our body language is saying we already lost.”

  “Let’s go, Clifton United!” Red said, squinching his face. “We’re here to play.”

  “We come committed.” Diego stepped into the circle and clapped hard. “C’mon, Clifton United!”

  I grabbed the back of my neck and looked across the court. I could see …

  “C’mon, Rip!” Diego shouted.

  My eyes shot back to the huddle.

  Diego was pointing at me. “Yo, we need you here!” he said.

  “Easy, Diego,” Coach Acevedo said.

  “I’m playing for Clifton United in a basketball tournament.” Diego thumped his chest. “You know how much that means to me. You know—”

  “Enough, Diego,” Coach Acevedo said. He dropped to a knee and looked at us. “We’re pushing reset.” He pressed his thumb to the floor. “We just hit the reset button.”

  Red took a knee and smacked the floor with both hands. Then Maya did. Then Super-Size did. Then the rest of us did.

  “Our Showdown starts now,” Coach Acevedo said. “No hanging heads, no slumping shoulders, no defeated faces. Clifton United’s Showdown starts now.” He flipped the ball to Red. “You ready to rise to the occasion?”

  “We will rise to the occasion, which is life, Coach Acevedo,” Red said.

  He pointed Red to the line. “Go make your shot.”

  Red hustled to the line. He trapped the ball under his foot and took several breaths. Then he picked up the ball, squared his shoulders, and sized up the rim.

  For less than a nanosecond, my eyes darted to him.

  Red dribbled three times—low and hard—and stood back up. He spun the ball until his fingers found the right seams and then looked at the rim again. He extended his arms and took the free throw.

  Swish!

  The Opener

  Mimi, Speedy, Diego, and I lined up around the circle. Super-Size set up for the jump against Carmelo.

  I checked the scoreboard on the wall beyond the baseline.

  The Renegades were the home team.

  My basketball eyes checked my father. He still stood with Ms. Yvonne and smiled proud.

  “Good luck, everyone,” the referee said. She stepped to the middle and raised the ball. “Players, hold your spots.”

  Super-Size had decent ups, but no way was he winning the tip, and I could tell Carmelo was looking to back-tap to Mohawk-2.

  I was right.

  Mohawk-2 caught the tip over his head, and then like a soccer player throwing an inbounds, he fired a pass up to Andre on the right. Andre took two dribbles and put up a shot from behind the three-point line.

  Swish!

  “Dag,” I said under my breath.

  Eight seconds in, we were already down three.

  “Let’s go, United,” Coach Acevedo said, clapping. “Run the offense, Rip.”

  I brought the ball up. I was getting the ball to Diego. This was his first game. This was his first possession. The ball had to go to Diego.

  I passed to him on the wing. He sent the ball to Mimi in the corner. She dribbled once and passed it back. Diego stared down his man and jab-stepped a couple times, but when his man didn’t go for the fake, he passed to me. I sent it right back to him.

  “Take your shot!” I said.

  He did.

  Swish!

  “Yes!” Diego leaped into the air. He high-fived me hard as he sprinted back on defense. “Let’s do this!”

  Our whole bench stood and cheered.

  “Way to go, Diego Vasquez!” Red shouted, waving his towel. “Let’s go, defense!”

  The Renegades came right back and scored another quick basket. Kasaan lofted a pass over our defense to Mohawk-2 for an easy deuce.

  “Run Black Widow,” Coach Acevedo said to me as I brought the ball up.

  I thought-bubbled the play.

  “Black Widow,” I called. “Black Widow.”

  Suddenly, Kasaan and Andre charged. I wasn’t expecting the half-court trap. I picked up my dribble and pivoted right. With four waving arms blocking my sight lines and passing lanes, I tried spinning left …

  Tweet! Tweet!

  “No, no, no, thirty-two,” the ref said, rolling her fists. “You’re shuffling your feet. That’s a travel. Black ball on the side.”

  “Shake it off, thirty-two!” a voice called from the far sideline.

  I winced.

  The Renegades called a set play, and once again they got the ball into Mohawk-2, close to the rim. He scored another easy basket.

  Coach Acevedo called a time-out.

  “We need to play smart out there,” Coach Acevedo said in the huddle. “We can’t turn the ball over. Let’s keep those heads up.”

  I was trying to listen, but my eyes kept darting across the gym. They seemed to be doing so on their own.

  “We can’t let them sneak in behind our defense,” Coach Acevedo went on. “We need to be sprinting back.” He looked around the huddle. “Mega-Man, you go in for Mimi. Maya, let’s have you sub in for Speedy.” He snapped his fingers in front of my face. “You with me
?”

  “Huh?” I said.

  “I said, are you with me?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I shook out my hair.

  “Show me that you are. Let’s get Mega-Man involved right away. Work the ball into him.”

  I worked the ball into Mega-Man right away, but Carmelo blocked his shot and Kasaan beat me to the loose ball. Then Kasaan beat me downcourt and scored a breakaway layup.

  “Let’s go, Rip,” Coach Acevedo said.

  Once again, I brought the ball up, and Kasaan met me at half-court. This time, I faked to Diego and passed to Maya. But Kasaan didn’t buy my fake. Not for a second. He stepped right into the passing lane and stole the ball. Then he fired a chest pass to Andre, who raced down the floor for another fast-break basket.

  I clasped my hands behind my head.

  “Ref, sub,” Coach Acevedo said.

  The ref signaled for him to make the switch. He sent Hudson in and me to the bench.

  “Shake it off, thirty-two!” that voice shouted from across the gym.

  I sat down in the empty chair next to where Red was standing and cheering.

  “Nice playing, Mason Irving,” he said.

  “Really, Red?”

  I grabbed the towel from the back of my chair, covered my head, and placed my hands over my face.

  * * *

  “Any suggestions?” Coach Acevedo asked at halftime. We huddled up under the scoreboard. “I’m serious. I’m out of ideas.”

  Things didn’t go any better with me on the bench. We still couldn’t get clean looks, and the few times we did manage to work the ball inside, the Renegades double- and triple-teamed. On defense, we switched to a two-three zone, but they destroyed us with hot outside shooting.

  “We need to pick up the intensity,” Diego said, his face tight like a knot. “Clifton United is better than this.”

  Diego played the whole first half. He was the only one who did. He played his heart out on every play at both ends of the floor.

  “Ideas?” Coach Acevedo said. “Anyone?”

  With my basketball eyes, I looked at my father. He was still standing with Ms. Yvonne, but he was no longer on the other side of the gym. He was behind Mimi and Mehdi across the huddle.