Long Shot for Paul (4 page)

The subject changed to Christmas, which was only a few weeks away. What could he get Paul for a present, Glenn wanted to know.

Shirts and pajamas, Mom suggested. What about Plasticine models, Glenn asked. Paul enjoyed making things with Plasticine.
That was fine, Mom agreed.

“What are you and Dad going to get for him, Mom?”

Mom smiled. “That’ll be a surprise,” she said.

Paul enjoyed playing with toys. But Glenn and Paul had all sorts of trucks. Glenn had a freight train set which Paul enjoyed
playing with, too. There really wasn’t much else he could get Paul.

It started to snow late that afternoon. By
morning it stopped, leaving about three inches of snow on the ground.

On Sunday they slept late, had a big brunch — pancakes, sausages, and scrambled eggs — then the three children shoveled the
snow off the driveway and played basketball. Later Judy went to visit one of her girlfriends, and Glenn went inside to watch
the Eagles-Colts game on television. He wasn’t especially crazy about watching it. It got tiresome sitting there very long.
He couldn’t figure out how Dad could sit there watching a whole game. As a matter of fact, Dad could sit and watch two full
games in a row.

The game was still in the first quarter when Glenn heard voices yelling out front. He stepped to the window and saw three
boys throwing snowballs as fast as they could make them. They were throwing them at Paul.

“Those meatheads!” Glenn snarled, and crossed the floor to put on his coat and hat.

“What’s going on?” asked Dad.

“Some wise guys are ganging up on Paul,” said Glenn. “I’m going out there and help him. If they want a snow fight, we’ll give
it to ’em.”

Dad shrugged, smiled, and returned to his business. Glenn put on his coat, hat, and boots, and hurried out. A big smile came
over Paul’s face as he saw Glenn. He was spattered all over with snow.

“Come on, Glenn!” he shouted enthusiastically. “Let’s give it to ’em!”

The snowballs came flying. One struck Glenn on the shoulder and spattered as he bent over to scoop up a handful of the white
stuff. Quickly he made it into a ball, fired it, scooped up another handful, fired again, and hit a target. Now and then Paul’s
shots hit home, too, and he would shout happily.

Frog Robbins came by and joined Glenn and Paul. In a few moments the other three boys had enough. They laughed, brushed the
snow off their coats, and left.

“Thanks for the help, Frog!” Paul said. “Guess we won that fight, didn’t we?”

Frog grinned. “We sure did.”

Glenn invited Frog in to watch the football game. Frog accepted. After a while Glenn noticed that Paul wasn’t around, although
the three boys had come into the house together. He was certain that Paul hadn’t gone out again.

Glenn went to the room that he and Paul shared and saw Paul at the desk. He was drawing a picture.

“What have you got there?” Glenn asked.

Paul looked at him with a proud gleam in his eye. He held up the picture. There were two figures in it that looked like people
leaning into a strong wind. There was a house at
the side of the picture and a tree bending from the wind. The entire sheet was covered with circles deeply impressed in the
paper, coming down in a slant.

“It’s snowing!” Paul explained, a glow on his face. “Snowing hard!”

Glenn nodded. So that was what the heavy circles meant.

“Say, Paul, that’s good,” he said. “That’s really good.”

“Thanks!” said Paul. He was smiling broadly, proud of his drawing, and pleased that Glenn had told him it was good.

Glenn walked out of the room, wondering just how he would have drawn a picture of snow snowing hard.

I
n the locker room just before the game with the Shawnees, Coach Munson approached Paul. He was holding one hand behind him.
From where Glenn sat he saw that the hand held a blue box. A warm, prickly feeling rippled over him. The coach had Paul’s
uniform.

“Bring your sneakers with you?” the coach asked Paul.

A smile flickered over Paul’s face. He stuck out his right foot. “Got ’em on,” he said.

“Good.” The coach handed Paul the box. “Here’s your uniform. Get into it. Maybe we’ll get you in the game for a while tonight.”

Paul’s eyes grew as wide and bright as Christmas-tree bulbs. He took the box, yanked off the cover, and lifted out the brand-new
gold-colored jersey. The coach held up one side of it so that the number could be seen. It was 22.

“Thanks, Coach!” Paul cried. “It looks sharp!”

In his excitement he tried to undress too quickly, but only fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and wasn’t getting anywhere.

“Take your time!” Glenn said, laughing. “No one’s going to leave you here alone. Let me help you.”

He helped Paul remove his shirt and then started his jersey on for him. Paul was
beaming. “He got me the uniform, Glenn!” he said enthusiastically. “He kept his word, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did, Paul,” Glenn answered, his heart singing as he knew Paul’s must be too. “Coach Munson always keeps his word.”

Paul finished dressing by himself. When they walked up on the court Paul strutted across the floor like a proud rooster.
Look at him,
Glenn thought.
Right now he’s the happiest guy in the world.

Glenn didn’t get in the game until the second quarter. Two minutes before it was over the coach sent in Paul in place of Stevie
Keester. It was Paul’s first experience in a real game. He didn’t run much. He looked nervous. He just kept following close
to his man as Coach Munson had told him to do.

Several times the Shawnee made a fast break, getting away from Paul and catching a pass with no one around him. At one time
the man went in for a layup. The second time he tried it Glenn rushed in and the Shawnee’s try for a basket missed. The crowd
shouted for Glenn. Paul stayed in till the horn sounded, ending the first half.

The Sabers had a good lead, 26’17. With one minute to go in the third quarter Paul went in again. Right away he ran into his
man unexpectedly and a foul was called on him. A little while later he committed another foul — holding. The Shawnees gained
a point when the fouled player sank the shot.

The coach took Paul out. “Can’t hold on a guy, Paul,” the coach warned him. “Just keep your arms in front of him. Don’t touch
him.”

Paul nodded. He looked hurt. He had seemed to be having so much fun. Now, all of a sudden, he had caused two fouls and was
yanked. All the fun was gone out of him.

The Sabers outplayed the Shawnees all the way through. Every player, except Paul, put in almost equal time. The Shawnees simply
couldn’t do much. They lost to the Sabers, 51–36.

Paul forgot about the fouls. He was happy again. In the dressing room, and on their way home, there was no boy more thrilled
than he. Glenn was thrilled, too, because Paul was. Their enthusiasm was shared by Mom, Dad, and Judy, all of whom had gone
to the game.

“You did fine, Paul,” Dad said, his arm around Paul’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly. “You did just fine.”

“Didn’t make any baskets, though,” Paul said.

“That’s all right,” remarked Glenn. “I made only two. There are other guys who can do the shooting. You just learn to guard
your man so
he
doesn’t make baskets. Right, Dad?”

“Right.” Dad smiled. “And Paul was doing a pretty good job of it, too.”

Glenn looked over the crowd moving slowly through the hall to the exit door. He spotted someone he least expected, and his
eyes almost popped — Mrs. Myles!

It was the first game she had ever attended. Perhaps it was because it was the second game of the doubleheader (the 5:30 game
had been between the Gators and the Blue Waves). And it was almost eight o’clock, which was sort of late for Benjy to be out.
Or perhaps she wanted to make sure Benjy didn’t walk home with a certain boy.

“Hey, Glenn, seen Stevie?”

It was Jim Tilton, their center. “He was with Frog and Andy,” said Glenn.

Jim nodded and threaded his way through
the crowd. Nothing was said about Paul’s playing. Not one guy had said a single word about Paul. To them he’s just an invisible
man, Glenn thought with a heavy heart. Well, playing had made Paul feel happier. Even a little happier is better than nothing.

They played the Jackrabbits on Thursday. The Jackrabbits rolled into the lead right away and held it throughout the first
half. Glenn was in a few minutes and pumped in two baskets and two foul shots for a total of six points.

In the second half the Jackrabbits kept up their hot streak. Toward the end of the third quarter Don Marshang started to drive
and sank three baskets. Twice he was fouled and both times sank his shots. By the middle of the fourth quarter the Sabers
were neck to neck with the Jackrabbits, and the small crowd was in pandemonium.

Glenn got in with three minutes to go.
He had played half of the third quarter and hadn’t scored. He caught a pass from Frog and dribbled it to the front court,
saw Stevie open and passed. Stevie tried to drive, stopped as two men surged on him. Glenn swept around his guard and headed
toward the baseline near the basket. Stevie passed to him. Glenn caught it, leaped for a jump shot. Made it! Sabers — 55;
Jackrabbits — 53.

The seconds ticked on. The Jackrabbits tied it up. Jim sank a long one to put the Sabers ahead again. With two minutes to
go, the jackrabbits, now in possession of the ball, played more cautiously. They wanted to get the ball as near to the basket
as possible before they shot.

They worked it in. Their tall center drove, leaped for a shot. It missed! Jim caught the rebound, passed to Stevie. With a
fast break they got the ball to their front court.

“Freeze it! Freeze it!” came the shouts from the fans.

There was less than a minute to play. The seconds were ticking away. The crowd was getting more and more excited.

“Take that ball away from them!” a Jackrabbit fan yelled.

The jackrabbits, playing a tight man-to-man defense, pressed too hard. Don Marshang, who had the ball, was pushed and given
a one-and-one shot. He made the first, missed the second. The jackrabbits caught the rebound, bolted down-court with the ball,
drove for a layup, missed.

For a while there was wild excitement as again and again jackrabbits’ hands went up to tap the ball into the basket. The ball
just wouldn’t go in. The game went to the Sabers, 58–55.

It wasn’t until the teams headed for their
showers that Glenn realized that Paul hadn’t played in the game at all.

Paul played for a minute of the second quarter in the game against the Blue Waves on Tuesday. Not once did a Saber throw him
the ball. But when the Blue Waves were in possession of it, Paul watched his man like a hawk. He was getting better, Glenn
told himself, in spite of what the others thought.

Glenn played most of the third quarter, sinking two baskets and one foul shot. But he had three fouls on him and began to
get cautious. Two more fouls and he’d be out.

Dan Levine was in for him when the fourth quarter got under way. After two minutes of play Coach Munson took Stevie out and
put in Paul.

“I just like to have him in there for a while to get him used to playing,” the coach said to Glenn. “He’s still awfully slow
catching on.
But as long as he’s in there even a little bit now and then I think he’s happy, don’t you?”

Glenn smiled. The coach had never said anything to him about Paul before. “He sure is,” Glenn said.

“Probably talks about it at home, doesn’t he?”

“He sure does. The only thing — ” Glenn paused. He wished suddenly he hadn’t started to say something else.

The coach looked at him. “The only thing what?”

Glenn shrugged. “Oh, nothing.”

“Come on, out with it. What were you going to say?”

Glenn’s voice faltered. “Well, I was hoping the guys would be different.”

The coach nodded. “I know what you mean, Glenn. Just be patient. Give them time. They’ll come around.”

There was a wild scramble under the
Sabers basket. Glenn took a quick look at the score. Sabers — 47; Blue Waves — 49. Man, it was close.

“Get that rebound!” Coach Munson shouted. “Get that rebound!”

Glenn looked for Paul. Excitement flamed up in him as he saw Paul under the basket with the rest of them, trying to catch
the ball.

And then he did get it! He leaped, shot, and the ball went in!

“Oh, no!” Coach Munson moaned, and covered his eyes with his hands.

Everyone on the Sabers bench, and the remaining four on the floor, and all those Sabers fans moaned, too.

Paul had shot the ball into the wrong basket.

C
oach Munson removed Paul from the game and sent in another player. Glenn was glad that it wasn’t him the coach was sending
in. His heart was beating like crazy. Paul had sure goofed. He had given the Blue Waves two points, putting them four points
ahead.

Paul sat beside Glenn. His eyes were dim.

“Don’t cry, Paul!” Glenn said huskily into his ear. “For crying out loud, don’t do that! It was just a mistake!”

“Don Marshang yelled at me,” Paul said,
his voice ready to crack. “He called me a birdbrain.”

That doggone Marshang. If anybody was a birdbrain, it was him.

“Don Marshang doesn’t know any better,” said Glenn. He picked up the towel lying near his feet. “Here. Dry yourself.”

A little while later the coach had him go in for Dan Levine.
I’m going to make up for Paul’s goof,
Glenn promised himself. He played hard, covering his man like a tent. His chance came. He intercepted a pass, dribbled it
to the center line, passed to Don. Don passed to Jim. Jim dribbled across the keyhole, flipped a pass to Glenn, who was running
in. Glenn took it, leaped, just as a hand smacked his wrist.

The whistle shrilled as the ball wiggled through the net. The referee signaled to the scorekeeper that the basket counted,
and that the foul was on 42.

“Thataway, Glenn!” Paul shouted from the bench.