Hook Shot Hero (6 page)

T
he players coming off the bench for Wickasaukee were fired up from watching their teammates take control of the game. Maybe they weren’t quite as skilled as the starting five, but they were every bit as determined to give their team the win.

Unfortunately, their determination wasn’t good enough to keep them on top. Tito sent the starters back in when the score turned in Chickasaw’s favor, 49–45.

“I knew it,” Mike spat. “All our hard work—gone!”

Tim glanced at the other players to see whom Mike was talking to. But as far as he could tell, none of them agreed with Mike’s comment. And when Jody replaced Mike with Sam after five minutes, none of them seemed too upset.

“He got yanked because he was hogging the ball instead of setting up plays,” Sam informed Tim during a time-out. “So if we want to stay in—”

“We better make something happen!” Tim finished. They bumped fists and got ready for play to resume.

Chickasaw had put in a new guard, a lefty who dribbled only with his dominant hand. Tim was so focused on staying with the guard that he didn’t see the pick until it was almost too late. But he did see him, and so instead of colliding, he slipped behind the forward and picked up his man on the other side.

Brian Kelly was there, too. He and Tim slapped on the double-team, forcing the guard to pass. Sam anticipated the move, intercepted the ball, and took off all alone toward the other end of the court.

“Go, Sam! Go!” Tim shouted as he followed. If Sam got into trouble, he needed to be there to help.

But Sam didn’t need any help. Cool as a cucumber, he banked in a soft layup.

“Sammy Sam,” Cue Ball yelled, “you just earned yourself a ticket on the wahoo train! Wa-
hooooooo!
Chug-a-chug-a-chug-a!”

Wickasaukee was still down by two points, 57–55, when Brian made one of two foul shots. Then Chickasaw’s lefty guard tossed in a three-pointer that swished the strings and drew cries of admiration from the fans from both camps.

Chickasaw, 60, Wickasaukee, 56.

Tito called a time-out to break their opponent’s momentum and to urge his players to take more shots. “You’re playing good D,” he said, “but to win, you need to put the ball through the hoop. It’s as simple as that.”

It might have been simple, but it wasn’t easy. Chickasaw subbed in fresh players but kept their hot-handed guard on the floor. Tim was so busy defending him that he had little time to think about shooting.

Meanwhile, the game clock ticked down and the score ticked up until with only two minutes remaining, it was knotted at 65 points apiece. Mike came back into the game. Now all five starters were playing.

“Full court man-to-man!” Jody ordered from the sideline. “Shut ’em down out there!”

Tim inbounded the ball to Mike from the mid-court sideline. Mike dribbled a few steps right-handed, passed the ball behind his back, and dribbled to the arc left-handed. Under the basket, Cue Ball feinted to the outside and then cut in, wide open and arms raised for a pass.

There was no way Mike could miss seeing him. But instead of passing, he set his feet and went up for a jumper.

Clang!

The ball bounced off the rim and landed right in the hands of the surprised Chickasaw center. He looked around wildly for a guard to pass to. When he didn’t see one, he put the ball to the floor himself. He was very tall; maybe that’s why his dribble was so high. Cue Ball took advantage and swiped the ball from him. The center took two more steps before he realized he no longer had control.

Cue Ball, meanwhile, shot a layup. Rather than drop through the hoop, however, the ball rolled crazily around and around the rim—and fell off without going in!

Cue Ball tried to get his own rebound, but the Chickasaw center took his revenge by stripping the ball right out of Cue Ball’s hands. This time, he found a guard waiting for the outlet pass. The guard passed up to a forward, who hit a jump shot from twelve feet away.

Chickasaw, 67, Wickasaukee, 65, with a minute remaining. Sixty seconds was plenty of time to tie things up. But was it enough time to go ahead? Tim wasn’t sure.

Once more, he inbounded the ball to Mike. Now Chickasaw hit them with a full-court press. Mike was an expert ball handler, but Tim could see he was feeling the pressure— if only because he rifled a pass to him!

Tim was so startled he almost fudged the catch. But he controlled the ball. With a quick head fake, he sent his defender in one direction while he went in the other. He looked for someone to pass to. Cue Ball, Donnie, and Brian were all covered. It was up to him to tie the game!

“Trust yourself, Tim!” he heard Billy yell from the bleachers. “You can do it!”

Tim dribbled to the top of the key. The player defending Cue Ball took a step toward him and then retreated back to Cue Ball. Tim stepped into the paint, set his feet, and shot.

The ball traced a beautiful arc toward the hoop. Tim held his breath as it hit the backboard. Too high! Instead of falling through the net, the ball bounced over it!

Donnie and the Chickasaw center fought for the rebound. The ball started to go out of bounds. Donnie scrambled after it. With a mighty sweep, he drilled it off the Chickasaw player’s legs and out of bounds!

It was Wickasaukee’s ball under their own hoop!

T
ime-out!” Tito shouted, frantically slapping his palm onto his fingertips.

Fweet!
The ref’s whistle blew and both teams hustled off the court. Jody was already drawing a play on his small whiteboard. “We don’t have a lot of time, so pay attention,” he said urgently. He flipped the board around so they could all see the play.

“Donnie, Cue Ball, and Bobby line up shoulder to shoulder in that order on the side of the foul line closest to where the ball is being inbounded. Tim, you stand behind Bobby. Mike, you inbound the ball. Got it?”

The boys nodded.

“Mike starts the play with a slap on the ball. When the rest of you hear that, move! Bobby, you cut to the right of the hoop. Cue Ball, you fade back a few steps. Donnie, you cut to the left and outside. Tim, you cut left, too, but to the inside. Everybody put your hands up and shout as if you’re the one getting the pass. Mike, you feed the ball to Tim.”

“What?” Mike jabbed an outraged finger at Tim. “You’re putting our last hope of sending the game into overtime into
his
hands? He’s barely taken a shot all game!”

“Exactly,” said Jody. “So they won’t expect him to be the shooter, will they?” He turned to Tim. “Think you can do it?”

“Of course he can’t!” Mike cried before Tim could answer. “He should inbound the ball! I’ll take the shot!”

Tim stood up. “I don’t think I can,” he said. When Mike started to agree, he added in a firm voice, “I know I can.” He stared at Mike.

“You do your job. I’ll do mine.”

The referee called for time-in then, preventing any further discussion. The boys raced onto the court and lined up as Jody had instructed. Only when he was hidden behind the three taller boys did Tim realize how smart Jody’s plan was. The defense would have trouble covering a man they couldn’t see!

“Get ready,” Donnie whispered.

Whack!

Mike slapped the ball. The Eagles exploded into action. Bobby darted to the right of the hoop. Cue Ball danced back. Donnie swung wide to the left. Tim arced inside Donnie’s path and turned toward Mike.

Mike wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at Bobby. Bobby was covered. His eyes shifted to Donnie. But Donnie was covered, too.

Give it to me!
Tim screamed in his head.
Your five seconds are almost up!

Finally, Mike glanced at Tim. The Chickasaw center must have been watching his eyes because suddenly, he left Donnie and took a step toward Tim. Mike directed a bounce pass in Tim’s direction, but instead of hitting the ground, the ball hit the center’s foot! It took a crazy hop.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The Chickasaw fans started counting down the final seconds—just as Tim snared the ball out of the air!

“Seven! Six!”

The center leaped forward, arms high and waving. There was no way Tim could shoot over him. Unless …  

“Five! Four!”

Tim put the ball in his right hand down by his side and turned so his shoulders were lined up with the hoop.

“Three! Two!”

Tim swept the ball up over his shoulder in an arc, pushed off his right leg, and flicked his wrist to send the ball spiraling through the air toward the hoop. And at the same time—wham! The center smacked into Tim, landing on him like a ton of bricks!

Fweet!

As Tim crumpled to the floor, two things registered in his brain. One, he’d been fouled on the shot. And two—the ball didn’t even touch the rim. It just swished through the center of the strings! Nothin’ but net!

Blaaaaaaa!

The buzzer sounded a split second after the basket. The fans erupted in cheers and shouts. The Eagles cleared the bench to swarm Tim, who was still on the floor, dazed and overjoyed.

“Tim Daniels sinks a buzzer-beating, game-tying hook shot under pressure!” Dick called over the loudspeaker. “And he was fouled, so he’ll go to the line to shoot one!”

Sam helped Tim to his feet. “You can do it,” he said. The other boys echoed his encouragement. Then everyone but the starting five hurried back to the sidelines to watch.

The gym fell silent as Tim walked to the foul line. The referee checked on the players’ positions to make sure no one’s feet were over the line. “Shooting one,” he informed them.

Then he handed the ball to Tim and stepped back.

A thousand thoughts flooded Tim’s mind.

The game is tied, so it’s okay if you miss!

Don’t screw up like you did last year!

Air ball! Air ball!

Tim swallowed hard and spun the ball between his fingers, trying to clear his head and focus. He dribbled twice and spun the ball again. Then suddenly, a new thought spoke inside his head.

Hang time!

All nervousness left him. He dribbled one more time and then, with a small smile playing about his lips, he bent his knees, uncoiled, and shot.

It wasn’t a perfect free throw, Tim later admitted. It could have used more arc and been better centered. But despite its flaws, it did the trick. The ball bounced once and then fell through the hoop.

If the crowd had gone crazy when Tim stuck the hook shot, now it went positively insane! Thunderous applause shook the rafters. Tito and Jody hoisted Tim onto their shoulders and paraded him around the gym. They were so different in height that Tim had to hold on for dear life or else risk toppling to the floor. But he didn’t care. He wasn’t just on top of their shoulders.

He was on top of the world!

C
amp Wickasaukee celebrated their victory that night with an all-you-can-eat sundae bar followed by an enormous bonfire on the waterfront. While many of his Eagle teammates goofed around or flirted with campers from the girls’ camp, Tim was content to sit and watch the flames. He’d had plenty of excitement for one day and was happy to just be alone—although he didn’t mind when Wanda joined him. In fact, he thought that was very, very nice.

The next morning, he woke with a flutter in his stomach. It was Parent Pickup Day for the youngest campers. In just a few hours, his mentees would be showcasing what they had learned from him in the past week. He hoped it was enough to satisfy their parents!

The demonstration was scheduled for ten thirty. Tim had asked Keanu, Red, and Peter to arrive fifteen minutes early so they could talk about what they were going to do. He himself got to the gymnasium at ten minutes after ten. He looked around for his mentees. They were nowhere in sight.

It’s still early,
he thought.

At ten twenty, Mike Gruber and his kids appeared and began to warm up. Shortly after that, parents started arriving. To Tim’s surprise, Tito, Jody, and several campers, some from the Eagles Nest and some from other cabins, showed up and took seats. Wanda and Billy were among them. He didn’t remember telling Wanda about the demonstration but figured he must have while sitting with her the night before.

Tim glanced at the clock. It was ten twenty-five—and Keanu, Red, and Peter were still nowhere to be seen. He didn’t begin to panic until the minute hand ticked onto the six, however.

It’s ten thirty! Where are they? Should I go find them? Should I—

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden fanfare over the loudspeakers. Then Dick Dunbar’s voice boomed out.

“Good morning and welcome, parents!” he said. “Before we start the basketball demonstration, a few of the kids have a little something they’d like to say to their mentor.” The microphone made a rustling sound as if being covered by a hand, yet a whisper escaped anyway.

“You guys ready?”

The answer must have been yes because all at once, a door at the back of the gym burst open. Dick strode out, holding the microphone in his good hand. Behind him were Peter, Red, and Keanu.

Tim closed his eyes. They were wearing their capes!

“Tim Daniels, can you come forward, please?” Dick called.

Flushed with embarrassment, Tim opened his eyes and moved to join them on the court.

Dick handed the microphone to Red. “Go ahead,” he whispered encouragingly.

Red opened up a piece of paper and began to read from it. “Dear Tim,” he said, “when we first met you, you yelled a lot. You made us do boring drills. We didn’t like that, or you, very much.”

A murmur rippled through the audience. Tim glanced up and saw a few parents frowning. Then he caught Wanda’s eye. She gave him a thumbs-up and a reassuring smile.

Red passed the paper and microphone to Peter. “But then one morning,” Peter continued, “you did something different. Instead of yelling, you laughed and made jokes. Instead of making us do drills, you made up games. Instead of being mean, you were fun!”

Keanu took over. “At the beginning, we
hated
basketball. But now, thanks to you”—he looked at Red and Peter, who joined in the final words—“we think basketball is the best!”

“And you’re the best, too, Tim!” Keanu added. Then he returned the microphone to Dick, presented the paper to Tim, and said to Red and Peter, “Ready? One, two, three!”

The boys unfurled their capes and turned around. Peter had the letter
T
and the word
WE’LL
on his. Red had the letter
I
and the word
MISS
. And Keanu’s cape had an
M
and
YOU
!

Unfortunately, Peter and Red were standing in the wrong order, so the capes spelled out
ITM
and read as
MISS WE’LL YOU
! While the audience laughed, the boys quickly rearranged themselves so their message was clear:
TIM WE’LL MISS YOU
!

Tim grinned broadly. He tried to thank them but couldn’t. A lump in his throat made speech impossible.

When the applause had died down, Dick spoke into the microphone again. “Tim and Mike, it’s time for your mentees to show their parents what they’ve learned. Since Tim’s kids are already on the court, they’ll go first.” He handed the microphone to Tim.

The grin froze on Tim’s face.
Hoo boy,
he thought, glancing at the boys in their capes.
This could be interesting!

Mike obviously thought so, too. His lips curled in a sardonic smile as he leaned back against the bleachers, spread his arms out wide, and crossed his feet at the ankles. To those around him, he must have appeared relaxed and ready to enjoy the show. To Tim, however, he looked like the cat who was about to swallow the canary—and Tim was the canary!