Basketball Disasters by Claudia Mills

Ponytail’s team lost 20–18.
    A good omen?
    In the few minutes between the two games, Jonah, wearing his referee’s shirt, came up to Mason and his dad.
    “Ankle okay?” Jonah asked.
    Mason was too surprised to answer. He hadn’t thought of Jonah as a person who might ask him afriendly question, but as a corrupt gum chewer paid off by the other team.
    “Much better,” Mason’s dad answered for him. “Thanks for asking.”
    Jonah gave Mason a friendly smile.
    Mason found himself smiling back.
    The game began. Mason didn’t start; he saw that Dunk didn’t start either. Mason had decided that he liked going in later, anyway, when the stakes were higher and every basket counted more.
    Brody was in, out-hustling all his past hustle, which was saying a lot. He was a little yellow whirlwind—grabbing the ball right out of a befuddled Whale’s grip, taking it down the court, passing it to Kevin, who passed it to Amy, who passed it back to Brody, who shot a perfect layup and scored.
    Maybe it
was
good in basketball to be short.
    Mason went in for the second quarter, with Nora and Dylan. Sometime between the previous game and this one, Dylan seemed to have gotten a clue. He waved his hands in a Whale’s face as if he finally understood that the point of guarding was to keep the other kid from scoring, as opposed to making random motions in the air. Dylan even caught the ball once,from a well-timed pass by Nora, and passed it on to Mason—the first successful pass of Dylan’s life.
    Was Mason within scoring range? He took a chance and sent the ball flying toward the backboard; it fell through the hoop with a sweet, satisfying swish of success, his first basket in a real game.
    His ankle still hurt some when he landed on it. He didn’t care.
    At the half, the score was tied 13–13.
    Sweat trickled down Mason’s forehead as he listened to Coach Dad’s halftime speech in the huddle.
    “We have two quarters left,” his dad said. “Twelve minutes left of our first season playing together as a team. I want us to win. But more than that, I want us to play like winners. And that means playing with respect for one another and for the other team. Playing with sportsmanship. That’s what I care about more than anything. And, team, that’s how you have been playing. And I’m proud of all of you.”
    Mason felt his dad’s eyes fall on him.
    And he knew his dad was proud of him, Mason.
    When Mason went in for the final quarter, with Nora, Brody, Amy, and Jeremy, the score was 17–15,with the Bulldogs in the lead—too close for comfort. Dunk was back in as well.
    Dunk or me this time
.
    Dunk had the ball and was dribbling fiercely down the court. Brody leaped in front of Dunk. Brody went down.
    Fwee!
Jonah blew his whistle.
    Mason knew the foul was Brody’s, and that Dunk had been going so fast he really had no choice but to mow Brody down. But Brody was the one on the floor, whimpering with pain, clutching not his ankle but his left arm, which had taken the brunt of the impact from his fall.
    Once again, Mason’s dad was there, feeling Brody’s arm for a possible fracture. Fleetingly, Mason wondered how his dad had learned how to do this with so much calm authority. Did the coaching book have a chapter on first aid?
    “I think it’s okay,” Coach Dad said, “but you need to catch your breath, Brody. That was a hard fall you took just now.”
    Dylan went in for Brody.
    Great
.
    Jonah called a blocking foul against Brody, eventhough Mason thought that trading Brody for Dylan was already punishment enough for the Bulldogs.
    “He should have called a charging foul against Dunk!” Jeremy complained to Mason. “Dunk knocked Brody down!”
    Mason didn’t want to point out that Brody had actually been the one in the wrong, blocking Dunk’s way.
    “Is that ref blind?” Jeremy went on. “Or was he bribed?”
    Oh, get over it
, Mason thought.
    Did
he
use to sound that way?
    Dunk was given a free throw. The players on