“I did want to live it,” Austin says.
“Is that why you cheated too?” I ask him.
Austin looks shocked. “Cheated? What do you mean? I didn’t cheat.”
“You sort of did, though.” He stares at me blankly, and I realize he has no idea what I’m talking about. “Playing on the AAU team because your dad sponsored the team? Taking a spot from some kid out there who’s a better player, but who didn’t have the money to pay?”
“That’s different,” Austin says, defensively.
“Kind of different,” I say, “but kind of the same.”
“You didn’t have the money to pay, and you’re on the team.”
“That’s because your dad and Coach Cash knew I’d help them win and build their program. That’s how it works, we both know that.”
Austin doesn’t answer that one, which is fine by me. The last thing I want to do is get into another fight with him. I don’t have the strength for it, for one thing. Luckily, he seems to feel the same way.
“I guess things don’t always work out the way we want them to,” I say, finally.
“Or maybe they work out exactly how they’re supposed to.”
My phone buzzes, and I look down. It’s my mom, texting that she’s working an hour late, but bringing fried chicken home for dinner.
BOOO, I text her back, BUT ALSO YAY!!!
“How about now?” Austin asks. “How do you feel about basketball now?”
“When I come back,” I tell him, “I’m gonna start over. And maybe learn to love the game, you know, on my terms.”
“That sounds about right.”
We fall silent. We’re both breathing kind of hard, like all that talking took something out of us. I shift the pillows under my head. My elbow starts to hurt. It’s like my injuries are in some kind of pain rotation, and now it’s my elbow’s turn. Later, my back will want a turn, I know that much.
“I should go,” Austin says.
“Okay,” I say.
“Can I come visit again?”
“Yeah, that’d be cool.”
“Awesome.”
I shake my head. “Man, everything was so much more chill when it was just a bunch of us playing in the park, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, you know it,” Austin says, laughing. “Free Shoot. Running around, sweating, playing game after game until they told us we couldn’t play anymore.”
“Just pure ball. That’s what I want. That’s what I miss.”
I close my eyes to remember. I can almost hear our little kid voices, and feel the hot black concrete under my feet, and taste the lemonade I used to buy from the hot dog guy.
I open my eyes.
“Hey, I got a crazy idea,” I say. “I mean, it’s nothing we can do right now, but when I’m better, it might be kind of cool.”
Austin looks curious. “What is it?”
I tell him.
Turns out he doesn’t think it’s so crazy, after all.
DOUBLE OVERTIME
Three Months Later
ALFIE:
Hello everyone, and welcome to another exciting day of basketball. Even though the official season ended a while ago, we have one last game to bring to you today. But I’m not coming to you from the Walthorne South Gymnasium, where I usually call games. No siree, today we’re here at the beautiful Tompkins Park courts, where the Panthers of Walthorne South will be taking on the Cougars of Walthorne North. That’s right, the boys basketball game that was canceled way back in March has been rescheduled for today. Not by the schools, not by the athletic conference, but by the kids. They are just going to go out there and play. No refs, no audience, no adults of any kind. Because that’s how they want it . . .
AUSTIN
In the car on the way to the park, my dad is talking about how he used to drop me here every Saturday. “Man, we couldn’t keep you away from this place,” he says. “Kind of like how now, I can’t keep you away from your phone.”
“Ha ha,” I say, my head buried in my phone.
Neither of us mentions the fact that I haven’t played much basketball in the last few months, ever since I decided to leave the AAU team. When I told my parents my decision, they were really upset for about a week. They didn’t think I meant it. They thought I was just doing it because I was mad at them for getting Carter’s dad fired.
But then after a while, they realized something.
They realized I was happier.
And slowly, they accepted it.
My dad pulls the car into the parking lot. “Are you just hanging out with friends? Playing a pickup game? What’s this about?” The curiosity over why I grabbed a basketball and asked for a ride to the park is just killing him.
But I’m not about to give it away. “Just felt like shooting around,” I say.
“Okay. Well, I gotta work later, so Mom is going to pick you up.”
“Cool, thanks for the ride.”
“Have fun,” he says.
As I walk down the hill to the courts, I realize that I’ve never heard my dad say those two words to me in relation to basketball before.
I see Carter, and I walk over. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He looks around. “Man, I haven’t been here in a long time.”
“We had some great games here back in the day, remember?”
“Yeah, we mixed it up pretty good.”
I stick out my hand. “Good luck.”
“Same.”
We shake.
CARTER
I gather up the team.
“Hey everyone,” I announce, “Amir is going to be captain today.”
Amir blinks. “For real?”
“For real. You deserve it.”
I start to walk away with the other guys, but Amir puts his hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, yo, uh, Carter?”
I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t, so I say, “What’s up? You good with being captain today?”
“Yeah totally.” He bends down and starts double-lacing his sneakers. “Anyway, uh, I just wanted to say it’s good to see you back on the floor.”
“Don’t I know it. Thanks, bro.”
“You know,” he says, “you got a gift.”
“A gift?”
“Yeah, man, the way you play this game . . . you just . . . you know, you got the thing.”
“Thanks dude, I appreciate that,” I say. “You want to, like, form a layup line or something?”
Amir finishes his lacing, straightens up, and looks me right in the eye. “I know you got mixed feelings about basketball, and I get that, honestly, I do . . . but man, it could be your ticket out.”
I laugh. “Yeah, my mom’s been saying that forever.”
“I know she has, and I know it’s a ton of pressure, but you gotta realize, a lot of people would kill for that opportunity. A lot of people, myself included. And when you fell, man, that opportunity could have been taken away from you. But it wasn’t. You got another chance. Another chance, man.”
He pauses, but I don’t move. For some reason, I know he’s not quite done.
“Don’t waste it, is all I’m saying.”
I nod. “I won’t, man,” I tell him. “I promise I won’t.” And I mean it.
We smack hands, and go out to warm up.
AUSTIN
Everyone’s here except Clay. I start to think maybe he’s not coming.
“I don’t know, PJ,” Kevin says. “Maybe he just didn’t want to deal with it.”
I shake my head. “Nah.” But actually, I’m thinking the same thing. I check my phone. No messages.
We start warming up on one end of the court, doing layup drills, dribbling drills, outside shots. I look down at the other end of the court. Carter’s guys look really strong.
I start taking a few free throws when Eric points up the hill. “Look!”
Clay is walking toward us. He’s got his basketball stuff on. Now he’s running.
And he looks ready to go.
ALFIE:
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There’s not a cloud in the sky, and it’s a beautiful day for outdoor basketball. And, well, to be perfectly honest, I’m actually not calling this game live. I’m shooting video on my cellphone, which I will edit into a YouTube video for later. Mr. Rashad told me the best broadcasters get their starts by doing stuff like this, so that’s what I’m going to do! The players are taking the court, and we’re just about set to begin . . .
AUSTIN
After we warm up for a while, I go to center court and yell over to Carter, “Should we do captains?” By that I mean meeting, shaking hands, talking a little bit about the rules. Usually the refs organize all that, but we don’t have any refs today.
Carter nods, but doesn’t walk toward me. Instead, another kid comes up—tall and serious-looking. I recognize him from the girls game disaster. We shake hands.
“Are you . . . are you the captain?” I ask him. “What about Carter?”
“Carter named me captain today,” the kid says.
“Oh, cool,” I say, even though I’m confused. “Well, uh . . . I’m Austin.”
“I’m Amir.”
I realize it’s cool that Carter named him captain, and then I get mad at myself for not thinking to do the same thing for Clay.
“Great,” I say. “Well, I guess we should talk about a few rules.”
“Sure. One time-out for each team per half?”
“Yeah cool. Sub whenever you want?”
“Yeah cool. Two thirty-minute halves, running time, cool?”
“Yeah cool.”
Amir tugs at his shirt. I realize he’s a little nervous. Then I realize I’m a little nervous.
“Okay,” I say. “Well, uh, have a good game.”
“You too.”
We shake hands again and go back to our own halves of the court. I circle up the guys. “Clay, take the tip. Kevin, Charlie, Eric, Toph, you guys start.”
They stare at me.
“You’re not starting?” Clay asks.
“Nope. Bring it in.”
Everyone puts their hands in a big pile. I put mine in last.
“Let’s have fun, on three.”
The guys all grin.
“One, two, three, LET’S HAVE FUN!”
ALFIE:
Amir Watkins wins the tip, and we’re underway! Carter Haswell gathers the ball in the backcourt, crosses into the frontcourt, zips a pass over to Lucas Burdeen, who goes up for the shot, no good, Sham Collins gets the offensive rebound, stripped by Clay Elkind from North, who passes to another guy from North—fans, I apologize for not knowing the names of some of these players, I don’t have rosters in front of me . . .
. . . We’re midway through the first half ladies and gentlemen, and may I just say that I’m very glad to be watching basketball the way it’s supposed to be played–hard, fair, and fun. I can tell you that the game is pretty even, but I don’t know the score, because there’s no scoreboard. Ooh! Amir just blocked a shot by someone on North, and the ball goes flying, but he definitely got some of the kid’s arm as well. Amir is saying something to the kid . . . I believe he just called a foul on himself. The North player goes to the line for two foul shots . . .
AUSTIN
I go into the game after about ten minutes. The score is 12–8, them. Jerrod and Jake come in with me, Charlie, Eric, and Topher come out, Kevin and Clay stay in. It’s our best lineup. South makes a couple of changes, too, but Carter stays in. We match up against each other. He takes the ball upcourt and I hand-check him, just like Coach Cash taught me. He makes a move between his legs and then crosses over in one fluid motion. I stumble a little bit but recover. He dumps the ball into a big guy who just checked into the game. I go over to help out, but the guy spins the ball over his shoulder back to Carter, who is cutting baseline. I’d taken my eyes off him for one second and it cost me. Carter makes the easy layup. I’m mad at myself but I know it was a great play, so I do something that surprises Carter. Something I would definitely never do in a league game. I hold my hand up in front of Carter. It takes him a second to realize what I’m doing. And then he gets it.
We high-five.
CARTER
Austin posts me up. I think he’s going to the hoop, but instead he goes up for a midrange turnaround. I try to block it, but I get about two inches off the ground. I’m tired and my legs are rubbery, but there’s no way Amir is going to tell me to come out. So I yell over, “Sham, grab me! Need a blow!” Sham’s eyes go wide. He’s not the best player. Coach Benny never would have pulled me for him. But I don’t care. I mean, it’s just a game, right? A game I really want to win, don’t get me wrong, but still, just a game.
Sham runs onto the court and starts trash-talking right away. It’s the best part of his game, because he can really run his mouth. Usually the refs tell him to can it, but there are no refs today, so he’s going off.
He lights into this one kid on North, rattling off one dis after another.
“Man, is that all you got?”
“My grandma got more hops than you, and she’s in a wheelchair.”
“What kind of shot is that, son—you trying to kill the backboard?”
The kid doesn’t exactly react the way Sham wants him to, though. He’s not getting mad. More like the opposite—he’s howling with laughter at everything Sham says. So Sham ends up being the one who gets mad.
And p.s., he doesn’t exactly have the greatest hops in the world either.
I ask someone how much time is left, and what the score is. Three minutes left in the half, and it’s 22–19, us.
I’m thinking about putting myself back in. Coach Benny would have, for sure. But I decide not to. The clock winds down, under two minutes. Austin goes up for a three and hits it. Took him a while to get going, but it looks like he’s got his stroke working. 22 all. Ten seconds left. Lucas tries a last-second shot from the corner but it goes in and out.
Halftime.
ALFIE:
Well, that halftime pizza was certainly a nice surprise! Apparently it was donated by Austin Chambers’ family, and it was a big hit with the players, who are normally not advised to eat pizza at halftime of a basketball game. I was able to ask Austin about it, and apparently he called his mom just before the game started and asked her if he could order pizza to be delivered to the park. He assumed she would try to talk him into having power bars or celery sticks, but instead she said sure, why not? He was shocked. And so was everyone else when the pizza showed up! Now, we’re just about set for an exciting second half, although we have to see if the players show any ill effects from gorging themselves on cheese and dough . . .
CARTER
For the last five minutes of the game, we both have our best lineups in. Austin drops two treys in a row. I dish to Eddy for an easy bucket. On the defensive end, Lucas blocks a shot, but Clay grabs the loose ball and spins one in off the glass.
“TIED AT FORTY-EIGHT!” a kid yells. “ONE MINUTE LEFT!”
Suddenly things feel a little tense—no more high fives with the opponents, that’s for sure. We bring it down, I have an open three but pass up the shot, flip the ball inside to Eddy, he misses a gimme. The rebound gets knocked around by Amir and Kevin, and eventually the ball goes out of bounds.
Kevin goes, “Our ball.”
Amir shakes his head. “Nah, man, off your leg.”
“I didn’t touch it,” says Kevin.
“I saw it, dude,” insists Amir. “Definitely caught you behind the knee.”
Austin goes over. “Hold up guys, it’s all good.”
But it’s not all good. As the rest of us gather around, Amir and Kevin keep arguing about whose ball it is, and then Kevin says something like “Fine, whatever,” and he grabs the ball and throws it down the court.
“What was that, man?” Amir says, raising his voice. Kids are starting to body up to each other, getting a little intense, and my heart starts racing. After a great game, it can’t end like this.
“Everyone, let’s all just
chill!” I yell.
“Seriously!” adds Austin.
No one seems sure what to do. There’s no pushing and shoving going on, but kids are getting in each others’ faces and I don’t like how it feels. Austin looks at me like, Dude, now what? And I look back at him like, Dude, I have no idea. I stare up into the sky, hoping there’s an idea in the clouds somewhere.
And there is.
“HOLD UP! HOLD UP!” I yell. “I GOT IT! I KNOW WHAT WE’RE GONNA DO!”
Everyone stops jabbering and looks at me.
“What?” asks Amir.
I grin. “We’re gonna settle this old school.”
AUSTIN
We all stand there, waiting for Carter to tell us his great idea.
“Austin,” he says. “I need you to help me settle this once and for all.”
I look at him cockeyed. “How?”
“Well, our guy says the ball was off your guy, and your guy says the ball was off our guy. There’s only one way to find out who’s right.”
“Which is what?”
He sticks out his hand. “Rock paper scissors.”
“Rock paper scissors?”
“Rock paper scissors.”
Now I get it. “Just like Free Shoot,” I say.
He grins. “Just like Free Shoot.”
I look around. Kids are nodding, and it seems like everyone is thinking the same thing.
Why not?
“Okay,” I say. “How many takes it?”
“One takes it, just like always.”
“Great.”
Clay steps up. “I’ll say ‘rock, paper, scissors, shoot,’ and you guys put your hands out on shoot.”
Rivals Page 14