Playing by Heart by Anne Mateer Page B

problem. Our gymnasium.”
    â€œWhich was built just three years ago, as I will remind you, Mr. Vaughn.” The gravelly voice belonged to one of the older members of the school board.
    â€œYes, sir. As I was saying, when the gymnasium was constructed, the game of basketball wasn’t on anyone’s mind at all. When drawing out the court later, we were forced to put the out-of-bounds lines almost at each wall, with room for only one stand of seating along the end, behind the basket. Not the ideal spot for spectating.”
    â€œSo you want a new gymnasium—is that your request?” Mr. Tanger asked, jumping in.
    â€œYou know all unnecessary construction has been suspended due to the war,” drawled Mr. Morrison, the portly director of the only bank in town. If only he were as predisposed to like me as his daughter seemed to be.
    â€œNow, Charles, hear the man out.” This from Pastor Reynolds. “Go on, Chet.” He smiled his encouragement.
    â€œI’m not asking for a new gym. Not right this minute. I am asking that you consider a change of venue, which would be of twofold benefit.
    â€œI would like to move our basketball games to the town hall for the time being. This would allow more court space. And we could seat more spectators, as well. This change of venue would not only boost our basketball team’s ability to focus on the competition instead of the walls, it would allow more students and parents to enjoy the games.”
    â€œI thought you said this would benefit the war effort,” Mr. Tanger said.
    â€œYes, sir. My idea is to charge a nickel for admission—two pennies for students—and use the money to buy liberty bonds. These could be held in trust, perhaps by Mr. Morrison’s bank, to donate to the school district at maturation.”
    Mr. Morrison leaned forward. “I’m not even sure we should indulge our young people with this foolishness at a time when we are at war.”
    A murmur swept across the panel of men.
    Mr. Tanger’s head wagged. “You aren’t proposing we send the girls to play in the town hall, too, are you? Such a public display would be . . . would be—”
    â€œThe girls already play their games in public, Mr. Tanger. At our gymnasium. They are modestly attired and kept to a minimal amount of exertion, so I don’t see a problem with letting them play games at the town hall. And Mr. Morrison, I believe, sir, that games such as basketball have much to teach our students—about teamwork and discipline—that will serve them well not only in life but should they so choose, also in defending freedom.”
    A couple of heads nodded. Others shook. Two men leanedin to whisper to a neighbor. Eyebrows angled toward noses. Mouths dipped into frowns.
    I was losing them. I could feel it.
    My gaze met Principal Gray’s. His chin fell toward his chest, then rose in a slow motion. I could almost hear him say, Go on, son, you’re doing fine. I took a deep breath and plunged forward.
    â€œIf you’ll look at the paper you’ve received, you’ll see my projections as far as attendance and income for games played in the gym at school and at the town hall. By using the town hall, we would raise a significant percentage more to be used to purchase liberty bonds.
    â€œMy boys have not had much success on the court so far. I admit that. But with four seniors this year, I think we can win some games. Maybe even win more than we lose. A successful season would be a good thing for our school, our town, and our country. In return for our effort, I ask only that you commit to building a new gymnasium as the first project once the war in Europe has been won.”
    I had their full attention now.
    Mr. Tanger’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t see why we should tie one thing to another.”
    Excitement climbed into my chest, my throat, my words.
    â€œMr. Tanger, are you a man of