Last Man Out by Mike Lupica Page A

WAS SCA RED , NOT THAT he was going to admit that to Mike. But Mike had been right about one thing.
    It
was
fun.
    Maybe because it was scary.
    â€œIt’s a competition, just like football,” Mike said. “But it’s the kind of competition where it’s you against yourself.”
    â€œAnd gravity!” Tommy said.
    â€œWell, there is that,” Mike said. “You get to be a wild man here, just without hitting anybody or anybody hitting you.”
    â€œI’m just trying not to hit cement.”
    Mike had told him to think of riding a skateboard like riding a bike.
    â€œUh, you can check me on this,” Tommy said, “but bikes have handles.”
    â€œYou still need strong legs and balance, and I’ve already played enough football with you to know that you’ve got both,” Mike said. “Just set yourself on the board the way you set yourself to make a tackle.”
    Mike showed him how to use his toes and heels to guide theboard, and control it so he could make simple changes of direction. He showed Tommy how to get a good running start, dragging the back end of the board beside him, then jumping on.
    â€œBaby steps,” Mike said. “You don’t have to go fast at the start, just straight. And make sure you stay on.”
    After Tommy lost his balance and ended up landing—
hard
—on his butt, he looked up at Mike and said, “You said I was competing against myself. But I feel like it’s me against the board right now.”
    â€œYou’re just starting to learn,” Mike said. “But you’re getting the hang of it.”
    â€œI’m getting skinned knees, is what I’m getting.”
    But he
was
getting it. When he would get knocked down, he’d get right back up, the way he did in football. He lost track of time, not even checking his phone to see how close they were to the kickoff of the Pats game. He was just focused on one thing: getting better. Apparently it didn’t matter which sport he was playing for that to be the case.
    As Tommy kept picking up the basics, Mike started showing him a few harder moves, all while talking about famous skateboarders like Tony Hawk, who Mike said was like the Tom Brady of vertical skateboarders.
    Tommy wasn’t really picking up on all the technical expressions Mike was using about half-pipes and quarter-pipes and roll-ins. The main thing was, he felt himself improving as Mike started to dial things up for him, showing him how to use the walls on the lower part of the bowl, sending him down a smallflight of steps for the first time, finally telling him it was time to head down the smallest ramp and at least “sky” a little bit.
    â€œI’m not ready,” Tommy said.
    â€œAn hour ago you weren’t ready. Now you are.”
    Tommy took a deep breath, felt himself picking up speed even on what he could see was the smallest ramp out there, took off, arms stretched out to the sides.
    But he blew the landing, the board tilted to one side, and this time he skinned both an elbow and a knee. He got right back up, though, same as he would’ve on the football field.
    The next time Tommy landed solidly. He let out a big ol’ whoop.
    Mike pointed at him, extending both of his index fingers, and said, “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”
    Tommy didn’t try anything too fancy, but the more he practiced, the more confident he became. Soon he was able to control his speed and direction, doing his best to avoid falling off the board, not just because he was tired of skinning his elbows and knees, but because he was competing against himself now. Challenging himself the way Mike had challenged him to get on the board in the first place.
    And the more he did it, the less afraid he got. There was still fear, especially when he was in the air. But he was coming to understand that fear was a part of the thrill.
    â€œI think I could get to like