Tournament of Champions

by Phil Bildner

  Front Street Fury

  At the free-throw line, Red trapped the ball under his left foot soccer-style and took a couple breaths. Then he picked up the ball, squared his shoulders, and looked at the front rim.

  Along the sideline, Clifton United stood in a row, elbows locked. Coach Acevedo was at one end, Ms. Yvonne at the other.

  With my basketball eyes, I checked the Fury bench. Double Zero, Face Mask, and a couple others were watching. Dancing Man and Fur—a kid with the letter y missing from the word Fury on his uniform—were examining the game ball.

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

  Underhanded.

  And just like every other time …

  Swish!

  * * *

  “Clifton United sure looks loose out there,” I play-by-played. I rubbed A-Wu’s hair. “Check out what’s going on at center court.” Speedy rubbed my hair and Diego’s at the same time. “Quite a different scene from this morning’s contests, that’s for sure.”

  We were goofing around before the opening tip, and as the Fury players took the court, they had no idea what to make of us.

  Cool.

  With my basketball eyes, I found my dad across the gym, kneeling down, chin in hand.

  His eyes were glued to me.

  I was the only kid on Clifton United with a parent here.

  Cool.

  Our starting five was our small-ball unit: Diego, Maya, Speedy, A-Wu, and me. A-Wu was jumping center, but we knew she wasn’t outjumping Face Mask.

  We had a plan.

  “Here we go!” I announced. “The knockout round of the Jack Twyman Spring Showdown is under way.”

  Face Mask leaped for the ball, but A-Wu didn’t. Instead, she backed into the circle toward where Face Mask was aiming. He tipped it too hard. The ball deflected off Fur’s fingertips and out of bounds.

  Plan. Executed. Perfectly.

  Tweet! Tweet!

  “Blue ball on the side.” The referee pointed.

  “Thor!” I sprinted to the spot. “Thor!”

  This was the play Maya had suggested. Maya was getting the ball.

  We charged into position. The Fury wasn’t ready to defend a rapid-fire set play. Not even close.

  I smacked the ball, and our offense went to work. A moment later, Diego was wide open up top, and Maya was wide open in the corner. I passed to her. She caught the ball, squared up, and took the shot.

  Swish!

  “Ballin’!” I pumped my fists at Maya as we sprinted back on defense.

  “Ballin’!” Red stood on a chair and waved his hoodie.

  Eighty-Eight, the Fury’s point guard, brought the ball up, but no one was open. Our defense was on lockdown. Maya forced Eighty-Eight into taking an off-balance shot from the foul line. It banged off the side of the backboard.

  Diego boxed out Fur, grabbed the rebound, and hit me with the outlet.

  “Here comes Irving,” I announced. “He’s got a head of steam down the left side. He crosses the three-point line … cuts toward lane … It’s good! Oh, what a shot by Irving!”

  “Yo!” Diego gave me a hard double pound. “Cheat code!”

  I sprinted back on defense and tracked my man.

  “No letdown on defense!” I shouted to my teammates. “Pick up your men!”

  “Person!” Maya shouted back. “Pick up your person!”

  I knew the Fury weren’t fazed. Not at all. This was a stacked team that wasn’t going away quietly. They patiently executed their half-court offense and scored on a bank shot from the elbow.

  “Press! Press!” the Fury’s coach shouted.

  We broke their full-court press. At half-court, I dribbled past Dancing Man and made like I was heading for the lane. But just before I reached the foul line, I dumped the ball off to Diego. He faked out Fur and drove to the hoop for the basket.

  “En fuego!” Diego pinched out his jersey as he raced back.

  Everyone on our bench waved their hoodies.

  “Diego Vasquez is unstoppable!” Red shouted. “U-N-S-T-O-P-P-A-B-L-E. Diego Vasquez is unstoppable!”

  The Fury came back down the floor and worked the ball into Face Mask, who drew a foul in the act of shooting and sank one of two from the line.

  The Fury didn’t press after the free throws. We ran our half-court offense, but for the first time we missed a shot. The Fury grabbed the rebound and scored again.

  No, they weren’t going away.

  * * *

  “That was beautiful basketball out there.” Coach Acevedo beamed during the first time-out. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  “Absolutely beautiful, Clifton United,” Red said, hopping.

  Everyone laughed.

  “We’re loose and having fun,” Coach Acevedo said. “This is real Clifton United basketball.”

  “Above and beyond Clifton United basketball.” I smacked a chair.

  Coach Acevedo pointed with his iPad down the sideline. “Right now, they’re making adjustments,” he said. “We need to be ready.”

  “We’re ready!” Diego pounded the floor with both fists. “Yo, we can do this!”

  “We’re bringing it on every possession,” Coach Acevedo said. “We come committed to excellence.”

  Red reached over and ruffled my hair. “The Showdown is sick, Mason Irving.”

  “The sickest ever,” I said.

  * * *

  The first half was twenty minutes of beautiful back-and-forth basketball. Our early four-point lead turned out to be the biggest lead for either team. A couple times, the Fury looked ready to go on a run, but each time, Maya wouldn’t allow it. She made big shot after big shot and scored our last six points of the half.

  Maya opened the scoring in the second half, and for the first time all game we built a five-point lead. But then Eighty-Eight took over the game. He hit two three-pointers and then made a ridiculous underhanded layup (and got fouled on the play). With four minutes left, he hit a shot from in close that gave the Fury their first lead of the half. Then a few possessions later, he and Face Mask ran a picture-perfect give-and-go.

  The Fury led by four, their largest lead of the game.

  Just 1:54 remained. We needed a basket. We were getting a basket.

  We got a basket. We ran a set play, swung the ball to Super-Size near the foul line, and he hit Maya underneath for a layup.

  “U-ni-ted!” our bench cheered as we raced back on defense. “U-ni-ted!”

  The Fury ran their half-court offense and worked the ball into Face Mask. But Super-Size kept a hand in his face the whole time, so Face Mask had to swing it back out to Eighty-Eight, who put up a three-pointer.

  Swish!

  I brought the ball up. Dancing Man was still guarding me, but he was playing back.

  Bad idea.

  From behind the three-point line at the top of the key, I put up a shot …

  “Boo-yah!” I hammer-fisted the air.

  “Bam!” Red leaped off his chair. “Bam! Bam! Bam!”

  “Dee-fense!” Mehdi chanted from the bench.

  “Dee-fense.” Everyone joined in. “Dee-fense!”

  No way was the Fury scoring. No way.

  Double Zero passed to Face Mask in the low post. Super-Size and I swarmed and forced him to take a bad shot.

  With 41.7 seconds left, we had the ball. I walked the ball upcourt and waited for my offense. Super-Size set a screen for Maya, and as she made her cut I saw that she was going to beat her defender to the corner. My pass was waiting for her.

  She took the shot.

  Swish!

  Tie game!

  The Fury called their final time-out. They were going to work the clock and play for the last shot. Face Mask was going to be their first option. Dancing Man was going to be their second.

  I was sure of it.

  I was ready. We all were ready.
We were getting the stop.

  No.

  Somehow, Eighty-Eight managed to thread the needle between A-Wu and Diego and get the ball to Face Mask. He put up a shot that rattled home.

  “Time-out!” Coach Acevedo shouted, jabbing his fingers into his palm and forming a T. “Time-out!”

  Tweet! Tweet!

  “Time-out, blue,” the referee said, and signaled.

  Only 3.8 seconds remained.

  Pacer

  “An incredible game deserves an incredible finish,” Coach Acevedo said in the huddle. He handed his iPad to Red. “We need our close-out play. It’s time for Pacer.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Red smiled an above-and-beyond basketball smile. “I’m the man, Coach Acevedo.”

  “You are the man, Red.”

  “Who’s playing where, Coach Acevedo?” he asked.

  “That’s your call. We’re going with the same five.”

  Red looked at me.

  I pointed to Maya. “She takes the shot,” I said. “She hasn’t missed all game.”

  “That’s not completely true,” Maya said, smiling. “I’ve missed three shots this—”

  I cut her off. “You’re not missing this one.”

  “No way,” she said. “There’s no way I’m missing this one.”

  “Maya Wade’s not missing this one,” Red said.

  Then he went over the play.

  “Mason Irving makes the pass. Eduardo ‘Super-Size’ Lopez and Amy ‘A-Wu’ Wu clear space in the middle of the court. Diego Vasquez catches the pass. Maya Wade takes the shot.”

  “Maya Wade makes the shot,” she said.

  “Works for me.” Coach Acevedo laughed. “Hands in.” He looked around the tight huddle and made eye contact with everyone. “Let’s go win this game. On three, Pacer. One, two, three…”

  “Pacer!”

  * * *

  “Here we go,” the referee said, holding the ball out to me. “Ball’s in.”

  Tweet! Tweet!

  I jab-stepped left and broke right. Since we were taking the ball out after a basket, I was allowed to run with the baseline, but their big man defending the inbounds didn’t know that. With a clean look downcourt, I pump-faked like a quarterback and let fly. As my pass soared over the court, Super-Size and Speedy cleared room for Diego at the far key. Diego leaped for the ball and, before landing, two-handed it to Maya streaking down the sideline …

  … but his touch-pass was behind her. Still, Maya somehow managed to get her fingers on the ball and tap it forward. She dribbled once with her left, picked up the ball, and then in one motion and on the run, took the shot from beyond the three-point arc.

  The ball seemed to travel in slow motion …

  Swish!

  Clifton United celebrated at center court like we’d just won the Larry O’Brien Trophy.

  See You Later

  With my hood up and head down, I zombie-walked to the bus. Just like the rest of Clifton United.

  After our win-for-the-ages against Front Street Fury, we took the court for our next game thinking the Jack Twyman Spring Showdown was our tournament. It didn’t matter that we were facing the Renegades, the team that destroyed us by thirty in the opener. Clifton United was now a team of destiny.

  Maybe not.

  That thirty-point blowout looked like a nail-biter compared to what the Renegades did to us in the rematch. The Renegades scored the first nineteen points of the game. Nineteen! When you look up at the scoreboard and see your team losing 19–0, it makes you want to—

  “Hey, pal!”

  I turned. My father was jogging over.

  “I’m glad I caught you,” he said.

  “We got destroyed.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” he said. “But don’t let that be your only takeaway from this weekend. It’s certainly not mine.”

  I flipped down my hood and shook out my dreads.

  “A lot of wonderful happened this weekend, Rip,” he said. “Once you give yourself a moment to process everything, I think you’ll see that.”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged.

  He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Let me give you another takeaway,” he said. “Your nickname.”

  “Yeah, why did you say that back at the elevator?” I asked.

  “Your nickname didn’t come from Rip Hamilton of the Pistons.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He smiled. “When you were little, you used to rip your diapers off all the time and walk around butt-naked. So your mom and I started calling you Rip.”

  “No way.”

  “Ask her.” He squeezed my shoulder. “And just so you know, there’s a nice surprise waiting for you back home.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll see when you get there. It’s from the both of us.”

  “You’re not going to tell me?”

  “It’s been in the works for a while now. I’m looking forward to watching you with it when I’m back for good in the fall.”

  I let out a puff. “I’m glad you came this weekend.”

  “I am, too, Rip.” He patted the side of the United Express. “Go join your teammates. I’ll see you later, pal.”

  “Not if I see you first,” I said, waving and smiling.

  My dad smiled back.

  When he still lived with us, on his way out of my room after he tucked me in, he would always say, “See you later.” Then I would always say, “Not if I see you first.” It was our thing.

  Maybe one day it would be our thing again.

  * * *

  I sat in the back with the rest of Clifton United. Red had the window seat next to me. Diego and Speedy sat across the aisle. But on this bus ride, there was no talk of cannonball contests, chicken fights, or peeing in the bathroom. There was very little talk at all.

  We didn’t want to go out like this. Not after the way we beat Front Street Fury. We really thought we were going to win the rematch with the Renegades, not lose 48–11. There’s nothing fun about losing 48–11.

  Don’t let that be your only takeaway from this weekend.

  The Renegades didn’t just destroy us. They humiliated us. They weren’t even trying to run up the score.

  A lot of wonderful happened this weekend.

  I popped out of my seat and leaped over Red into the aisle. “How are your ankles?” I said to Diego.

  “What?”

  I stood over him. “Your ankles?” I said, smiling. “The ones that kid Kasaan broke blowing by you.”

  “Ooh!” a couple kids said.

  “First, he broke them on that inbounds play,” I said. “Then he broke them before the half. He left you sitting on your butt at the top of the key.”

  “He’s right,” Mega-Man said, grinning. “That kid absolutely—”

  “What are you smiling about?” I leaped onto my seat and pointed down at Mega-Man in the row behind me. “Remember what that kid Freddie did to you?”

  “I do, Mason Irving,” Red said.

  “Me too,” Maya said, stepping to Mega-Man.

  “We all do.” I pretended to block a shot. “You got posterized!”

  “Posterized!” Maya added.

  “They schooled you, too,” Mega-Man said to me.

  “Don’t I know it. That kid Andre stripped me clean in the backcourt, Carmelo stole two of my passes, and—”

  “Carmelo stole four of your passes, Mason Irving,” Red interrupted.

  “Why are you counting?” I held up my hands. “Whose friend are you?”

  “Everyone’s!” Red basketball-smiled. “I’m everyone’s friend.”

  Before we knew it, we were all talking and laughing and having fun again. Just like we should be. Yeah, we were bummed about the way we lost, but there was nothing we could do about it now. A lot of wonderful happened this weekend. There were a lot of takeaways.

  * * *

  By the time we got back to RJE, it was almost dark. Some of the kids ended up falling asleep, but most of us talk
ed and joked the rest of the way.

  As we pulled into the front circle, I looked out the window and spotted Mom and Suzanne. They were standing by Suzanne’s SUV with a few other parents. I recognized most of them, but I was surprised to see one of them: Mega-Man’s father, Coach Crazy.

  “What are you looking at, Mason Irving?” Red asked as the bus slowed to a stop.

  I pointed but didn’t answer.

  “Is that who I think that is?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  As Clifton United made their way off the bus, I knocked knuckles with my teammates as they passed. When it was Mega-Man’s turn, I held out my fists.

  “Nice playing with you,” I said.

  “You too, Rip.” He topped both of them. “See you later.”

  I nodded once and smiled. “Not if I see you first.”

  I turned back toward the window and watched as my teammates reunited with their families. A-Wu ran up to her parents. She kissed her mom first and then her father. Diego greeted his uncle with a high five and a hug. Speedy gave her mom a hug, too. Her mom kissed Speedy on the top of her head.

  Then it was Mega-Man’s turn. He raced over to his father, dropped his bag before he reached him, and gave him a big hug. When they let go, his father ruffled Mega-Man’s hair. At this moment, his father looked nothing like Coach Crazy, nothing like the Coach Crazy I knew.

  Nothing like the Coach Crazy I thought I knew.

  Two Days Later

  “You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” I asked.

  “You’ll see,” Mom said, smiling.

  It was the same I-know-something-good-but-I’m-not-telling-you-what-it-is smile she’d had on her face when I got back from the Showdown Saturday night. And it was the same one as yesterday’s, when she kept telling me about a big surprise that would have to wait another day because the place with the big surprise was closed on Easter.

  Right now, we were in the car on the way to the place with the big surprise.

  “This better be worth it,” I said.