visitors today or not.
The guys were still in the huddle around his dad, who was kneeling.
Billy ran for them like he was going for a loose ball.
“Dad,” he said.
The other players turned around and stared. Billy felt like everybody in the gym was staring at him.
Again.
Then Lenny and the guys gave him room.
Joe Raynor, still kneeling, looked up, clipboard in his hand. Billy tried to read his face, not knowing how mad he was.
He sure hoped his dad had checked his messages at home, so at least he’d known why Billy hadn’t shown up earlier.
If he hadn’t checked his messages at home, maybe he didn’t think Billy had even tried to call.
“Dad,” Billy said again, but then before he could say anything else, his dad held up his hand.
“Later,” he said. “We’ve got a game to win.”
“I know I should have told you myself,” Billy said. “But I was afraid you’d be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” his dad said. And then he did the last thing Billy expected.
He smiled. Then he swallowed hard and said, “What you did is what I should have done for him. I’m proud of you.”
The ref blew his whistle then, came over and said he needed the Magic players back on the court.
“I almost forgot,” Billy said. “Are we up four or down four?”
“Down,” Lenny said.
Billy’s dad was still looking at him.
“You ready?”
Billy grinned. “I was born ready,” he said.
“Then get in there.”
TWENTY-ONE
Billy’s dad said one last thing to him as they were breaking the huddle. “Don’t be afraid to shoot.”
It was Magic ball. Billy could see the Hornets were in a packed-in zone, which is what happened when your team couldn’t make anything from outside. They basically dared you to keep shooting from out there.
But on that first possession of the fourth quarter, somebody finally did make an outside shot for the Magic. The first time Billy touched the ball he did exactly what his dad had told him to do: drained one.
Now they were down by two.
At the other end, Lenny snuck in behind Tim Sullivan as he was trying to make a move toward the basket, took the ball away from him, wheeled and started up the court for a two-on-one with Billy.
When the Hornets’ guy back on defense cheated over to block Lenny’s path to the basket, Lenny passed the ball to Billy, just inside the free throw line. His favorite spot.
He drained another one.
Game tied, just like that.
As he ran back on defense, he saw the double doors to the gym open and his mom and Ben walk through them.
When Ben caught his eye, he gave Billy the same fist pump Billy had given him at West.
Billy, trying to be cool, just nodded.
The Hornets went back to a man-to-man, mostly because of Billy. The two teams traded baskets for a while, Lenny being the first to take advantage of the man-to-man with a layup and a short jump shot. Then with four minutes left, Billy hit his third outside shot of the quarter. The game was tied, 38 all.
Maybe the perfect season was going to end up with a perfect shooting day.
The Hornets—Tim, mostly—hung in there, though. The Magic pulled ahead by two points with three minutes to go. Then the Hornets got a couple of stops and they were up by two. Billy drained another one. Four-for-four. He was still in the zone, and the game was tied again.
A foul at the other end of the court.
Tim Sullivan made one of two free throws.
Hornets by one.
And then everybody stopped scoring, just like that.
It was as if everybody on the court got nervous all at once. It wasn’t any big stuff. Jim Sarni got called for a travel right before he hit a shot that would have put the Magic back ahead. A guy on the Hornets cut the wrong way on Tim and he threw the ball out of bounds. Lenny got fouled, went to the line and missed two free throws.
Then Tim, amazingly, missed two himself.
Magic ball, thirty-two seconds left.
Billy’s dad called time-out.
In the huddle, he didn’t talk about what was on the line for them.
The guys were still in the huddle around his dad, who was kneeling.
Billy ran for them like he was going for a loose ball.
“Dad,” he said.
The other players turned around and stared. Billy felt like everybody in the gym was staring at him.
Again.
Then Lenny and the guys gave him room.
Joe Raynor, still kneeling, looked up, clipboard in his hand. Billy tried to read his face, not knowing how mad he was.
He sure hoped his dad had checked his messages at home, so at least he’d known why Billy hadn’t shown up earlier.
If he hadn’t checked his messages at home, maybe he didn’t think Billy had even tried to call.
“Dad,” Billy said again, but then before he could say anything else, his dad held up his hand.
“Later,” he said. “We’ve got a game to win.”
“I know I should have told you myself,” Billy said. “But I was afraid you’d be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” his dad said. And then he did the last thing Billy expected.
He smiled. Then he swallowed hard and said, “What you did is what I should have done for him. I’m proud of you.”
The ref blew his whistle then, came over and said he needed the Magic players back on the court.
“I almost forgot,” Billy said. “Are we up four or down four?”
“Down,” Lenny said.
Billy’s dad was still looking at him.
“You ready?”
Billy grinned. “I was born ready,” he said.
“Then get in there.”
TWENTY-ONE
Billy’s dad said one last thing to him as they were breaking the huddle. “Don’t be afraid to shoot.”
It was Magic ball. Billy could see the Hornets were in a packed-in zone, which is what happened when your team couldn’t make anything from outside. They basically dared you to keep shooting from out there.
But on that first possession of the fourth quarter, somebody finally did make an outside shot for the Magic. The first time Billy touched the ball he did exactly what his dad had told him to do: drained one.
Now they were down by two.
At the other end, Lenny snuck in behind Tim Sullivan as he was trying to make a move toward the basket, took the ball away from him, wheeled and started up the court for a two-on-one with Billy.
When the Hornets’ guy back on defense cheated over to block Lenny’s path to the basket, Lenny passed the ball to Billy, just inside the free throw line. His favorite spot.
He drained another one.
Game tied, just like that.
As he ran back on defense, he saw the double doors to the gym open and his mom and Ben walk through them.
When Ben caught his eye, he gave Billy the same fist pump Billy had given him at West.
Billy, trying to be cool, just nodded.
The Hornets went back to a man-to-man, mostly because of Billy. The two teams traded baskets for a while, Lenny being the first to take advantage of the man-to-man with a layup and a short jump shot. Then with four minutes left, Billy hit his third outside shot of the quarter. The game was tied, 38 all.
Maybe the perfect season was going to end up with a perfect shooting day.
The Hornets—Tim, mostly—hung in there, though. The Magic pulled ahead by two points with three minutes to go. Then the Hornets got a couple of stops and they were up by two. Billy drained another one. Four-for-four. He was still in the zone, and the game was tied again.
A foul at the other end of the court.
Tim Sullivan made one of two free throws.
Hornets by one.
And then everybody stopped scoring, just like that.
It was as if everybody on the court got nervous all at once. It wasn’t any big stuff. Jim Sarni got called for a travel right before he hit a shot that would have put the Magic back ahead. A guy on the Hornets cut the wrong way on Tim and he threw the ball out of bounds. Lenny got fouled, went to the line and missed two free throws.
Then Tim, amazingly, missed two himself.
Magic ball, thirty-two seconds left.
Billy’s dad called time-out.
In the huddle, he didn’t talk about what was on the line for them.
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