Hoop Crazy by Eric Walters

to see Kia grab the ball. She turned, fired and it dropped!

Chapter Fifteen

    The other team didn’t just look confident. They looked down right cocky. They warmed up a little, but mainly strutted around the court, looking at us, pointing and laughing. I’d played against people like this before — players who thought basketball was about attitude instead of actually playing. Unfortunately this team had more than just attitude. They’d won all five of the games in the opening round, and then blown away the opposition in the first round of the playoffs. When I saw the score — 16 to 3 — I thought it had been written down wrong. It wasn’t. They’d killed the other team. Maybe they had a right to be confident.
    One of them walked up to Ned and stuck a fingerin his face. “You’re going down!”
    â€œGoing down where?” Ned asked.
    The kid looked confused. “Down … um, down … like you’re going to lose!”
    â€œMaybe,” Ned said. “We might. We’ve already lost two games.”
    â€œWe’re going to do you!”
    â€œDo me what?”
    â€œBeat you. What’s with you?”
    â€œNothing much. What’s with you?” Ned asked.
    â€œAre you mouthing off to me?” he demanded.
    â€œI am using my mouth … I don’t know how else to talk,” Ned said.
    â€œIn your face!” the kid yelled
    â€œWhat’s in my face?” Ned asked.
    â€œMe! I’m going to be in your face the whole game.”
    â€œThe only way you’re going to be in his face is if you brought along a ladder,” Kia said, stepping in between the two of them.
    â€œYou’re soon gonna wish you were smart enough to play on a girls’ team,” the kid snapped.
    â€œBack off !” the ref barked stepping in between the kid and Kia. “I’m not putting up with any of that stuff you four did in the opening rounds!” the ref said, waving a finger at the other team.
    What sort of stuff had they done? The bad feeling I’d had in my gut got worse.
    â€œWe’re here to play ball, nothing more. Now callthe coin toss for the first ball,” the ref said.
    â€œWe don’t want the ball,” another one of their players said. “Let them have it. They need all the help they can get!”
    â€œGee, thanks,” Ned said, reaching out to shake hands with the guy.
    He slapped away Ned’s hand.
    â€œTechnical foul!” the ref bellowed.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œTechnical foul. They get a free shot and the ball back.”
    â€œYou can’t do that!” yelled a man who stepped out of the crowd.
    â€œI’m the ref, I can do what I want.”
    â€œThat’s my son, and I’m their coach!”
    â€œNow having met you, I can see where he gets his fine manners from. I’m the ref and you better get off my court now or I’ll be adding a second technical foul. Do you know what that means?”
    â€œNo, what does it mean?” the man demanded.
    â€œForfeit of the game.”
    â€œYou can’t do that!”
    â€œYes I
can
. Walk away while you
can
,” the ref said calmly.
    â€œYou can’t threaten me!” the man yelled.
    â€œI’m not threatening. This is a promise. Get off now or the team is disqualified.”
    The man hesitated then walked off the court,mumbling something I was sure I didn’t want to hear.
    â€œTake a shot to start,” the ref said, handing me the ball.
    â€œCan anybody take it?” I asked.
    â€œAnybody on the team.”
    â€œSub in,” I said, tossing Mark the ball as I walked past him.
    He limped over to the line, took aim and sank the shot.
    â€œSub in,” I called out.
    I reached out and gave Mark a low five as we passed. Boy, things would have been different if he’d been able to play — not to mention Jordan. There was no telling how far we could have gone. We could have taken