FRED BOWEN

Published by PEACHTREE PUBLISHERS1700 Chattahoochee AvenueAtlanta, Georgia 30318-2112

www.peachtree-online.com

Text © 1999 by Fred Bowen

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in aretrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic,mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations inprinted reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Photo of Michael Jordan reprinted with permission of Dan Sears, WilmingtonMorning Star.

Photo of Bill Russell reprinted with permission of The National Basketball Hallof Fame.

University of North Carolina Tar Heels trademark and copyright used withpermission from the University of North Carolina–Chapel Hill.

Cover design by Thomas Gonzalez and Maureen WitheeBook design by Melanie McMahon Ives and Loraine M. Joyner

Printed in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1First Revised Edition

Bowen, Fred.The final cut / written by Fred Bowen.

p. cm.Summary: After tryouts for the school basketball team, eighth graders Zeke,

Eli, Ryan, and Miles find their friendship tested when two of them make theteam and two of them do not. Includes facts about Michael Jordan and BIllRussell.

ISBN 13 978-1-56145-510-2 / ISBN 10 1-56145-510-5 [1. Basketball--Fiction. 2. Friendship--Fiction. 3. Determination (Personality

trait)--Fiction.] I. Title. PZ7.B6724Fi 2009[Fic]--dc22

2009017025

For Peggy, Liam, and Kerry.My team.

Ryan Phillips looked around the small huddle of boys standing on thewindswept field. It was late afternoon

on a crisp autumn day. “First down,” he said.“What should we do?”

Eli Powell, the biggest kid in the group,shrugged his shoulders and didn’t say any-thing. Miles DuBow shook his head andsaid, “I don’t know. I just don’t want to bethe hiker again.”

Edward “Zeke” Zilkowski stepped intothe middle of the huddle and took charge.“Okay,” he said. He used his finger to tracea football pattern on the front of Ryan’ssweatshirt. “Ryan, you’re going to go downabout five steps, fake out to the sidelines,

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and go long.” Ryan studied Zeke’s finger asit moved up his sweatshirt and nodded. Heglanced over his shoulder. The four boys onthe other team were waiting impatiently onthe other side of the football. Ryan turnedhis attention back to the huddle.

Zeke looked up at Eli. “Eli, you go downabout seven steps and cut across the mid-dle—” he started.

“What about me?” Miles interrupted,punching Zeke on the shoulder.

“Miles, you hike and stay in to block.”“Again?” Miles protested. “I’ve hiked way

more than Ryan and Eli put together.”“Come on, you’re our best hiker,” Ryan

pleaded.“But there’s nothing to hiking,” Miles

complained.“That’s why you’re so good at it,” Zeke

said, patting Miles on the back.“I don’t see why we’re even playing foot-

ball,” Miles muttered. “We should be prac-ticing basketball.”

“We’ve got plenty of time to play hoop,”Ryan said. “Come on. Let’s play football.”

2

The four boys lined up. Ryan lookedacross the scrimmage line and eyed hisopponent, Dustin Henry. Zeke meanwhilekept his eyes on Dustin’s teammate NathanHarmata.

“Remember, you can’t rush in beforeyou count ‘three Mississippi,’ ” Zeke calledto Nathan, who was clearly ready topounce on Zeke.

“Just hike the ball,” Nathan replied, lock-ing eyes with Zeke.

Zeke barked out the signals: “Ready, set,hut one…hut two…hut three.”

Ryan broke into a run, and Nathanstarted counting. “One Mississippi…two.…”

On his fifth step, Ryan broke to hisright, glanced back at Zeke, and then sud-denly changed directions and startedsprinting upfield.

“Three Mississippi!” Nathan yelled.Zeke lofted a long pass toward Ryan,

sending the football sailing into the clearOctober sky. Ryan dashed after it. As theball started to fall ahead of him, he took aflying leap and stretched out his arms as

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far as he could. He felt the ball brush againsthis fingertips, then his body slammed againstthe dirt. When he looked up, the ball wasbouncing awkwardly away. “Incomplete!”Dustin shouted.

Ryan clutched his aching side as he got tohis feet.

“Good try,” Dustin said as he helpedRyan up. “You had me beat.”

Ryan trotted slowly back to the huddle.“Sorry,” Zeke said. “I threw that one a lit-

tle too long.”“I should have had it,” Ryan said, still

holding his side.“You’d better hike it this time,” Zeke said

to Ryan. Then he turned to Eli and Miles.“Eli, you go down and do a buttonhook. I’llthrow it high. Miles, you go down and out.”

“Finally,” Miles said. This time Zeke whistled a hard pass

right to Eli, who grabbed the ball but wastagged before he could move an inch.

“Good catch, big guy,” Ryan said, clap-ping his hands.

“Third down!” Dustin called. “You guyshave two more downs left.”

4

“Tie game, right?” Zeke asked as theteams moved up the field. “Next touchdownwins.”

“Yeah,” replied the boys on the otherteam as Ryan and his friends huddledagain.

“I can beat Dustin on a long pass,” Ryanwhispered to Zeke.

“Okay,” Zeke said. “You run a long slantfrom the right side.” Then, pointing to Eli,Zeke said, “Eli, you cut across the middlefrom the left side in case Ryan doesn’t getopen.”

Eli nodded.“I guess I’m hiking again,” Miles said,

sounding annoyed.“You’re the best, Miles.” Zeke smiled.

“What can I say?”Ryan lined up on the right side. He kept

his feet straight and stared directly atDustin. He was careful not to let his face orhis position give Dustin any clues about thepattern.

“Ready, set, hut one…hut two.…”Miles hiked the ball back straight and

true.

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“One Mississippi…two Mississippi.…Ryan ran straight for Dustin, who

quickly braced himself for a collision. But atthe last instant, Ryan angled to the middleof the field without breaking stride.

“Three Mississippi!”Zeke let go a long pass, and Ryan took off

after the speeding football. His legs werechurning and his heart was pumping. Hegot to the ball in time, reached up, andgrabbed it, but it popped out of his handsand tumbled end over end in the air. Ryandidn’t miss a step. He stayed with it and theball fell, spinning, right into his cradledarms. He raced into the end zone and raisedthe football high in triumph.

Zeke, Eli, and Miles raced down the field,celebrating and shouting as they ran.

“Touchdown!”“Great catch, Ryan!”“Great throw, Zeke.”Smiling, Zeke turned to the other team.

“You want to play another game?” he asked.“No,” Dustin answered, shaking his

head. “We’ve gotta get going.”

6

The other team left and soon it was justthe four friends in the middle of the bigfield, their shadows growing longer as thesun set.

“You want to play a game with just thefour of us?” Zeke asked, twirling the foot-ball into the air.

“I’m tired,” Miles said, shaking his head.“And anyway, I have to practice my sax.” Hewalked over to the side of the field andpicked up his saxophone case.

“We’ve played enough football,” Ryansaid. “Miles was right. We’ve really got tostart concentrating on basketball. Intramu-rals start in a couple of days, and tryoutsfor the school basketball team are in amonth and a half.”

“Intramurals! That’s just a big word forflunky teams,” Zeke said. “You don’t evenhave to try out for intramurals. The gymteachers just put you on a team and youplay against other kids in the school. All Icare about is making the real school team—the Sligo Stallions. I want to play againstthe best kids from other schools.”

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“That’s what I’m saying,” Ryan argued.“If we want to make the Stallions, weshould start practicing now and plan onplaying intramurals. That would give us ahead start.”

“Come on,” Zeke pleaded, looking up atthe cloudless sky. “It’s football weather.”

“I got it,” Ryan decided. “Let’s go to myhouse and hang out in the basement. Wecan play Ping-Pong and Miles can practicehis sax.”

“Let’s play football while we’ve still got alittle light left in the day,” Zeke said.

Eli eyed Zeke. “I bet I can beat you atPing-Pong,” he said.

“You’re on,” Zeke said.

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Ryan walked carefully down thewooden steps and felt along the wallfor the light switch.

He flicked the switch and a row of track lights suddenly brightened the large,carpeted basement room. A Ping-Pongtable stood in the center of the room and asagging sofa and a couple of battered easychairs had been pushed against the walls,which were plastered with pennants andposters. Off to the left hung a dartboard.Tucked in the far corner was a small, neatdesk with a computer.

As they had a thousand times before, thefour boys quickly made themselves at home.Zeke and Eli grabbed the two Ping-Pongpaddles off the table.

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“Come on, big man,” Zeke said, motioningwith his paddle to the table. “Let’s see whothe champ is at this game.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Ryan protested.“I’m the champ. I beat both of you guys thelast time we played.”

“All right, all right,” Zeke said, wavingRyan off. “I’ll beat you after I beat Eli.”

Ryan stepped back and watched the ballflash back and forth across the net. Miles took his saxophone out of its case andstarted practicing his scales.

“Are you just going to play the same notesover and over again?” Zeke demanded. “Whydon’t you play a song or something?”

“You can’t play a song unless you practiceyour scales,” Miles answered in a know-it-all voice.

“Hey,” Ryan said, “doesn’t intramuralbasketball start tomorrow?”

“Nah, it starts in two days,” Zekeanswered. “They’re just going to post theteam rosters outside the gym tomorrow.”

Eli smashed a forehand that just grazedthe corner on Zeke’s side of the table.

“You are so lucky,” Zeke cried, taking a

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few practice swings with his paddle. “It’s6–4, your lead.”

“You guys signed up for intramurals, didn’tyou?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah,” everyone answered together.“I hate intramurals, but let’s face it,

you’ve got to play intramurals if you wantto make the Sligo team,” Zeke said. “CoachDeCamp watches all the games.”

“When are tryouts for the Sligo team?”Miles asked, taking a short break from hispractice.

“In about six weeks,” Zeke answered ashe bounced the ball on the table. “AfterThanksgiving and after the intramuralgames end.”

“Come on, quit talking and start play-ing,” Eli complained.

“Do you think we’ll all make it?” Ryanasked nervously.

“Sure,” Zeke said confidently. “We’llmake it, no sweat.”

Zeke reached across the table to bend abackhand winner past a shocked Eli. “It’s 13–12. My lead, big guy.” Zeke smiled. Eliretrieved the ball and tossed it to Zeke.

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“But we didn’t make the team last year,”Ryan noted.

“So what?” Zeke said. “We were just sev-enth graders last year. Hardly any seventhgraders made it. We’re eighth graders now.”

Zeke pointed his paddle across the tableand said, “Look at Eli. He must have grownsix inches since last year. And you andMiles are taller too.”

“Yeah, Zeke,” Eli teased, “you’re the onlyguy who hasn’t gotten taller.”

“Don’t worry,” Zeke said. “I’ll make theteam.” He wasn’t smiling.

“So we’re a little taller. So is everyoneelse. How do you figure the four of us aregoing to make it?” Ryan asked.

“Easy. The team is only for seventh andeighth graders,” Zeke explained. “There aretwelve kids on the team. Last year’s teamhad eight eighth graders and they’ve grad-uated. I figure Coach DeCamp will wantmostly eighth graders like us.”

“Yeah, but the Coach will want some seventh graders on the team, too,” Miles pointed out and returned to playing hissaxophone.

12

“Yeah, like the Kaess twins, Alex andAndrew,” Ryan said. “They’re in the seventhgrade and they’re really good.”

“So what?” Zeke said, unimpressed.“That still leaves five or six spots open.”

“Come on, Zeke,” Eli said, leaning overthe table. “Stop yakking and start serving.It’s 15–15. Tie game.”

“And what about Johnny Fleming andFrankie Reilly?” Ryan asked. “They didn’tmake the team last year and they’re prettygood.”

Eli smacked a quick backhand that skid-ded past Zeke.

“Hey, will you guys quit talking?” Zekeshouted. “It’s making it hard to beat Eli.”

Ryan got up, walked over to the desk andturned on the computer.

“What are you doing?” Zeke asked.“I’m going to figure out our chances of

making the basketball team,” Ryan replied.Zeke and Eli continued their Ping-Pong

battle as Miles played an upbeat tune and Ryan sat clicking away on the com-puter keys.

“Who’s that new kid at school?” Ryan

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asked without looking away from the com-puter screen. “Is he any good?”

“You mean Matthew Finn?” Eli asked.“Yeah, he’s supposed to be real good.” Elilooked steadily across the table at Zeke.“It’s 20–19, Zeke. My lead. Game point.”

Zeke stood bent forward at the waist,twirling his paddle. “Chill out, you guys.I’ve got to concentrate.”

Eli spun a serve across the table andZeke flipped back a return. The ballwhizzed back and forth.

“Don’t forget Ian Will,” Miles remindedRyan. “All the Wills can play. Hannah’s onthe girls’ team and their older brotherNathan is really good.”

Eli sliced a backhand that just nicked thecorner of the table. He smiled a wickedsmile at Zeke and threw his hands high intriumph. “All right! I finally beat Zeke!”

Zeke stared at Eli. “I can’t believe howlucky you are!” he shouted. Turning to theothers, he said, “I would have won if theseguys had stopped blabbing.”

“What?” Eli exclaimed. “Like I couldn’t

14

hear everybody talking? Give me a break.Come on, Ryan. Let’s play right now forthe championship.”

“Wait a second,” Ryan said, pulling asheet of paper out of the printer tray. “Iwant to show you something.”

The boys gathered around as Ryan laidthe paper on the Ping-Pong table.

“What’s so important?” Zeke asked, send-ing his paddle clattering across the table.

“It’s a list of all the kids I figure have a chance to make the basketball team,”Ryan explained.

Just then, Ryan’s stepfather poked hishead into the basement room. “Hi. How areyou guys doing?”

“Hi, Max. Just playing some Ping-Pong.”“Well, you guys had better get going. It’s

almost dinnertime. Ryan, you need to setthe table. Your mom and Natalie will behome soon. I’m going to make chickenenchiladas.”

“Okay. I’ll be up in a minute.”When Max headed back upstairs, the

boys looked at the list of names.

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“Sure are a lot of names there,” Milessaid uncomfortably.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it,” Zeke said.“And in two months we’ll all be teammates.”

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SLIGO STALLIONS

8th Graders who made the team last year

Eddie Wilson Drew Moyers Patrick Barrow Antoine Daniels

8th Graders who have a chance Ryan Phillips Zeke Zilkowski Eli Powell Miles DuBow Johnny Fleming Frankie Reilly Matthew Finn Ian Will Gilbert Wiafe Nicholas Chu Scott Hudson Andrew Kaplan Anthony Coppola Nathaniel Li Luiz Fernandez

7th Graders who have a chance Alex Kaess Andrew Kaess Dustin Henry Nathan Harmata Daniel Anderson Christopher Lupin

The noises of a new week surroundedRyan as he hurried down the schoolcorridor. The excited talk and laugh-

ter of the students mixed with the metalclanging of slamming lockers. Ryan glancedat his watch.

I only have five minutes to get down to the gym and check out the intramural basket-ball rosters before World Studies starts, hethought as he quickly weaved his waythrough the crowded hallway.

“Hey, Ryan!”Ryan slowed down and look over his

shoulder. Jessica Abell, a classmate and aplayer on last year’s girls’ basketball team,was hurrying to catch up with him.

Three

“Are you heading to the gym?” she asked.“Yeah.” Ryan nodded.“Me, too.” Jessica smiled and the two

started off again in matching strides.“Are you playing intramurals?” Ryan

asked.“Sure, Coach Franklin wants all the best

girl players to play intramurals,” Jessicasaid. “You’ve gotta play if you want to makethe Sligo team.”

“You’ll make the team, again, easy,” Ryansaid, “won’t you?”

“I don’t know. I guess.” Ryan and Jessica turned the corner that

led to the gym. At the far end of the corridor,Ryan could see a cluster of kids crowdedaround two large pieces of paper taped tothe wall. Ryan and Jessica picked up theirspeed.

Zeke popped out of the crowd as Ryanapproached. “Hey, Ry!” he shouted. “You,me, and Miles are on the same team!”

The two boys traded high fives as Ryanmade his way to the edge of the crowd.“What about Eli?” Ryan asked.

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“Aaah, bad news—our big guy’s with abunch of show-offs,” Zeke replied, his voicefilled with disappointment.

“What do you mean, show-offs?” DrewMoyers bellowed from the wall where hestood with Eddie Wilson. “Eli’s on the bestteam in the league,” Drew called. “He’s gotme, Eddie, Patrick.…”

Zeke turned red. He had no idea the“show-offs” were standing right there. Ryanjust ignored Drew’s bragging.

“Come on, Jessica,” Ryan said. The two ofthem elbowed their way to the front of thecrowd to study the rosters. Zeke and Milesstood off to the side.

“Hey, Jessica, we’re on the same team—North Carolina,” Ryan exclaimed. And thenhe yelled over to Zeke: “You didn’t tell mewe got Jessica.”

“What am I? ESPN SportsCenter?” Zekesaid with a shrug.

“She’ll help us,” Miles said as Ryan nod-ded in agreement.

“You mean you guys will help me,” Jes-sica said.

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“Your whole team is going to need all the help it can get,” Drew teased. Eddielaughed, and Drew added, “Because we’regoing to roll.”

“We’ll see who’ll roll when the gamesstart,” Zeke replied.

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INTRAMURALS — TEAM ROSTERS

North Carolina Tar Heels Wake Forest Demon Deacons

Ryan Phillips Antoine Daniels Edward Zilkowski Nathan Harmata Jessica Abell Ian Will Nathaniel Li Anne Sherman Miles DuBow Luiz Fernandez Daniel Murphy Hannah Will Gabriella Eisenberg Ari Goldberg-Strassler Zachary Devlin-Folty Nicholas Chu

Clemson Tigers Maryland Terrapins

Johnny Fleming Frankie Reilly Paige Vinson Andrew Kaplan Christopher Lupin Mary Frances McDermott Dustin Henry Alex Kaess Benjamin Karesh Michael Shube Tracie Czwarzik Peter Funiciello Daniel Anderson Angela Narcho Michael Stamm Jacob Waldron-Kaufman

Duke Blue Devils Virginia Cavaliers

Eddie Wilson Scott Hudson Eli Powell Matthew Finn Drew Moyers Andrew Kaess Cara Hampton Gilbert Wiafe Gregory Thomas Katie Noethe Patrick Barrow Anthony Coppola Wendy Reiter Thu Tran Sandy Katz Ben Garmoe

“When do they start?” Ryan asked, look-ing over the rosters for a schedule.

“Tomorrow,” Miles said. “There are twogames every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thurs-day after school.”

Zeke pointed to the clump of kids infront of another large piece of paper tapedon the wall. “The league schedule is downthere,” he said. “Every team plays twice aweek for five weeks and then there aretryouts for the Sligo team.”

Ryan moved a few steps down the corri-dor and studied the first few games of theschedule.

“Who do we play first?” Jessica asked.“Duke at four o’clock tomorrow,” Ryan

said, then he looked over to Zeke. “Hey,Zeke,” Ryan called. “Who’s on the Duketeam?”

Drew Moyers and Eddie Wilson pointedat their chests and smiled.

“We are,” they said together.

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The next afternoon, Ryan tossed ashirt at Zeke, who was sitting on theboys’ locker room bench lacing up his

sneakers.“What’s this?” Zeke asked as Ryan con-

tinued tossing shirts to his teammates onthe North Carolina intramural team.

“What does it look like?” Ryan asked im-patiently. “It’s a team jersey.”

“They’re all red!” Zeke cried in disgust.“So what?”“We’re the North Carolina Tar Heels,”

Zeke protested. “They wear light blue, notred.”

“What’s the difference?” Ryan said.“We’re not really North Carolina. Red orblue, you’ll still play the same.”

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“Yeah, but…but.…” Zeke stammered.“It’s not right. Red? For North Carolina?”He shook his head and reluctantly pulledon the shirt.

Within minutes, the boys and girls of theNorth Carolina team were on the floor, hud-dled in front of their bench.

“We’re going to need a captain,” Jessicasaid.

“How about Zeke?” Ryan suggested.“Yeah,” Miles agreed and then teased,

“He’s good at bossing people around.”Zeke perked up and took charge. “Let’s

start Jessica and me as guards,” he said,looking around the huddle. “Ryan, Miles,and Daniel start up front.”

“Who’s going to cover Drew?” Ryanasked.

“I’ll take him,” Jessica volunteered.“I’ll take Eddie Wilson,” Ryan said.“I’ll guard Eli,” Daniel Murphy said.“Okay, Tar Heels, let’s go.”As the teams lined up, Zeke poked Ryan

and motioned to the stands. “Look who’shere,” he said. Ryan looked up and saw

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Coach DeCamp, the Sligo basketball coach,leaning forward on the top row and study-ing the action on the court.

“Who’s that with him?” Ryan asked, nod-ding at the kid with a clipboard in his lap.

“That’s Benny the Brain, the best math student in the whole school,” Zeke answered.“He keeps the statistics for Coach DeCamp.Points, rebounds, assists and all that stuff.”

Zeke smiled and patted Ryan on theshoulder. “You’d better play well. Some-body’s watching.”

Ryan took a deep breath, shook his handsby his side, and took his position on thecourt. Suddenly he was very nervous.

Ryan stayed nervous. He took a passfrom Zeke, faked a shot, and dribbled hardto the basket. But the ball glanced off hisleg and bounced out of bounds. “Oh no!”yelled Ryan, angrily slapping his leg. Hetook another deep breath and hustledupcourt, sneaking a quick look at thestands. Benny the Brain was marking inhis notebook. Coach DeCamp was focusedon the game.

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Despite a slow start, the Tar Heelshung tough. Jessica hounded Drew into aseries of bad shots. Zeke zipped throughthe Duke defenders for twisting layups.Just before halftime, Ryan nailed twolong jump shots to cut the Duke lead tothree points, 19–16.

At the half, the team gulped water andZeke barked out instructions: “Jessica,great job on defense. You got Drew allmessed up, but we’ve gotta keep Eli andEddie off the boards,” he said. “Miles, you’vegot to block Eli. He’s killing us.”

“Hey, I’m trying,” Miles shot back. “Butdid you happen to notice that Eli is a lot big-ger than me?”

The second half brought much of thesame. The first time down the court, Drewtook a wild shot for Duke that bounced highoff the rim. Eli reached up over Ryan andMiles and snapped down the rebound. Thenhe flipped a quick jump hook off the back-board and through the net. Duke led NorthCarolina, 21–16.

“Nice shot, Eli. You traitor,” Ryan saidwith a smile as the boys ran downcourt.

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Eli smiled back. “Sorry, Ryan. But I’mjust trying to look good for Coach DeCamp.Same as you.”

North Carolina did not play well in thesecond half. Ryan and Zeke struggled withtheir shots and no one could stop Eli andEddie from pounding the boards and scor-ing in close. The Duke lead stretched largeras Drew nailed three straight jump shots.

Jessica swished a pair of three-pointersfor North Carolina late in the game. ButDuke easily beat North Carolina, 40–28.

“You’ve gotta admit the best teamwon,” Drew said to Ryan as the twoteams filed off the court and headed tothe locker rooms.

“You guys never would have won withoutEli,” Ryan said.

“Yeah,” Miles said. “Eli, how can youstand playing with them?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Eli said.“Lay off him,” Zeke said. “You can’t

choose your intramural team, and intramu-rals don’t matter anyway. He’s just trying tomake the Sligo team.”

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Before Ryan hit the locker room, he tookone last look at the stands. Benny hadn’tmoved. He was still writing in his notebook.Coach DeCamp was gone.

Ryan nudged Zeke. “What do you thinkBenny’s writing?”

“He can’t be writing anything good aboutme,” Miles said, sounding tired and discour-aged. “I played lousy.”

Zeke turned and shouted, “Hey, Benny!”Benny looked up, surprised to hear some-

one call his name.“How much do we have to pay you to

mark down some extra points and reboundsfor us?” Zeke asked, motioning to Ryan, Eli,Miles, and himself.

Benny smiled. “You guys don’t have toworry. You did all right.”

Ryan smiled for a moment too, but as hepushed through the door leading to theboys’ locker room, he leaned over and whis-pered to Miles, “I’m not sure Benny’s tellingthe truth. At least about me.”

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The ball came flashing low and hardacross the net. Ryan lunged andflicked a soft forehand that bounced

high. But Eli was ready for it. He smasheda forehand shot so quickly it made Ryan’shead snap back as he watched the ball zipby him.

“It’s 16–9, my lead, your serve,” Eli saidevenly as Ryan searched for the Ping-Pongball on the floor.

“Whew!” Miles exclaimed. “The big guycame to play today.”

“You’re getting pretty good at this game,Eli,” Ryan said as he returned to the table.

“Just lucky.” Eli smiled. Miles put his saxophone to his lips and

then paused. “Hey, where’s Zeke?” he asked.

Five

“He got detention today,” Ryan said, get-ting ready to serve. “He said he would belate.”

“What did he get detention for?” Milesasked.

“I don’t know.” Ryan shrugged and spuna serve to Eli.

Miles went back to playing his music.Ryan and Eli returned to their game. Thebasement filled with sounds: Miles’s sax-ophone, the plick-plock of the Ping-Pongball, and drumming of the autumn rainagainst the windows.

Suddenly, another sound interrupted allthe others. Rap rap rat-a-tat rap. Someonewas knocking at the basement door. But noone moved to answer it. Ryan and Eli keptbattling for another point and Miles keptblowing on his sax.

Rap rap! Raprapraprap! “Come on, guys,open up,” Zeke called. “I know you’re inthere.”

Ryan angled a backhand past Eli andthen answered the door. “All right, allright,” he said as he turned the dead bolt.“Don’t break down the door.”

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Zeke pushed the door open and let in awet gust of wind. “Thanks a lot for takingyour time,” he moaned. “In case you haven’tnoticed, it’s raining out there.” He shook hishead like a wet dog trying to get dry.

Miles stopped practicing his scales. “Hey,Zeke,” he asked, “who gave you detention?”

“Goldberg,” Zeke replied, spitting out the name.

“What did you do?” Ryan asked.“I didn’t do anything,” Zeke said as he

peeled off his wet coat and tossed it on achair. “The whole thing was totally dumb.”

“Come on, Zeke,” Eli said. “You musthave done something to tick off Goldberg.”

“I was just talking in class,” Zeke said.“Hey, what’s new,” Ryan said. “You’re

always talking in class.”“That’s right,” Zeke agreed, shrugging,

“so why should I be punished today?”Ryan, Eli, and Miles burst out laughing.

Zeke started to laugh, too. Then he settledinto a beat-up old chair and waited whileEli finished beating Ryan.

“Hey, I’ve got some great news for all you

30

basketball hopefuls,” Zeke said as Ryan andEli put down their paddles.

“Is Coach DeCamp going to pick morethan twelve players?” Ryan looked at Zekehopefully.

Zeke shook his head. “Nah, it’s alwaystwelve. They’ve only got twelve uniforms.”

“So what’s the good news?” Eli asked.“Eddie Wilson is flunking math!” Zeke

announced, smiling.“So what?” Eli said, puzzled.“So, Eddie made the team last year, and

if he flunks math, he can’t play this year.…”“And if he can’t play,” Ryan said, picking

up where Zeke left off, “there’s one morespot open for one of us.”

“You got it!” Zeke said, pointing at Ryan.“You aren’t flunking math!”

A pained look crossed Eli’s face. “I don’tknow,” he said. “It doesn’t seem right—hop-ing someone’s going to flunk so one of us canmake the team.”

“You want to make the team, don’t you?”Zeke asked.

“Yeah, I want to make the team.”

31

“We all want to make the team, Zeke,”said Ryan. “We just don’t want to make theteam because someone is flunking math.”

“Why not? Look at that list you made the other day,” Zeke fired back as hepointed at the computer. “A whole bunch ofkids are not going to make the Sligo team sowe can make it.”

Miles stopped playing in the middle of anote. “Will you guys cut it out?” he said.“What’s the big deal about making theteam, anyway?”

Zeke’s mouth fell open. “What, are younuts?” he blurted out. “Making the Sligoteam is the biggest thing there is.”

Ryan and Eli nodded in agreement.“It’s only middle school,” Miles said.“So what’s that got to do with anything?”

Zeke asked impatiently.“So, Michael Jordan didn’t even make his

high school varsity team the first time hetried out,” Miles said, smirking.

“No way!” shouted Zeke, Ryan, and Eliall at once.

“Michael was the best!” said Zeke.

32

“He always was,” Ryan added confi-dently, then paused. “Wasn’t he?”

“Not always,” said Miles, still grinning.“He got cut in his sophomore year and hadto play on the junior varsity.”

“Wait. I did hear something about that,”Zeke said. “But he must have been sick orhurt or something during tryouts.”

“No, he just wasn’t good enough,” Milessaid.

“So what did he do?” Eli asked.“He practiced, got bigger, and got better.”“A lot better.” Ryan laughed. “So some

high school coach didn’t think Michael Jor-dan was good enough for varsity? Thatcoach must be feeling pretty dumb.”

“How do you know so much aboutMichael Jordan, anyway?” Zeke asked.

“I read a book about him.” Miles wentback to playing his saxophone. The otherboys were silent as the slow, sad melodyfilled the basement.

After a few moments Ryan broke thesilence and said what each of the boys wasthinking. “Man, if Michael Jordan got cut

33

from his high school varsity team, I guessanybody can get cut from a team.”

“We’ll make it,” Zeke said quickly. “Don’tworry.”

“How can you be so sure?” Ryan asked.“Because we’re all going to play really

well and Benny the Brain is going to takedown every point.”

“Yeah, but are we all going to play betterthan Michael Jordan did?” Eli asked.

34

Ms. Monnier, the referee, held up twofingers as she handed the ball tothe Clemson player standing on the

foul line. “Two shots,” she said. “Relax onthe first one.”

Ryan was standing along the foul line,waiting for the Clemson player to take hisfirst shot. Ryan leaned over, tugged at hisbasketball shorts, and glanced up into thestands. Coach DeCamp and Benny were sit-ting in their usual spots for intramuralgames, on the last row.

I hope Benny is taking good notes today,Ryan thought, happily adding up his points,rebounds, and assists for the game so far.This game has got to help me make theteam. We’ve only got a few more games left.

Six

The player’s first shot bounced off therim. Ryan looked up at the scoreboard.

The Tar Heels were safely ahead, 36–22,with only three minutes to play. Ryanglanced up again at Coach DeCamp andBenny as he leaned in, ready for therebound. Maybe I can score a few more pointsbefore this game’s over, he thought.

The second foul shot bounced around therim and fell through. Zeke dribbled the ballpast half court and snapped a pass to Jes-sica on the right wing. She faked left anddrove to the right, slipping by her defender.Another Clemson player moved over to stopher. But at the last instant, Jessica flickeda pass to Ryan, who was waiting in the cor-ner. He quickly put the ball up and watchedit rip through the net.

36

All smiles, Ryan ran back on defense,slapping hands with Zeke and Jessica.

“Good pass, Jessica,” he said. “Hands-updefense.”

When Clemson missed another shot,Miles grabbed the rebound and flicked aquick pass to Zeke. The Tar Heel leaderpassed to Ryan, who was racing upcourt.Ryan dribbled past the Clemson defenderand scored on an easy layup.

The teams traded baskets in the finalminute. Jessica swished a long jumper justas the buzzer sounded. North Carolina hadromped to a 44–25 win.

“All right, Tar Heels!” Zeke shouted afterthe teams had shaken hands.

“That really helps our record,” Miles said.“Four wins, four losses,” Ryan responded.

“Not too bad.”“Man, that was our best game of the sea-

son,” Zeke said, still beaming.“It was definitely Ryan’s best game,” Jes-

sica said as the team moved slowly towardthe locker rooms. “And Miles must have hada gazillion rebounds.”

37

Ryan glanced up at the stands again.Coach DeCamp was gone, but Benny wasthere marking in his notebook.

Zeke grabbed Ryan playfully around theneck. “Hey, Benny!” Zeke shouted.

Benny looked up.“Did you get all of my man Michael Jor-

dan’s—I mean Ryan’s—points down in yournotebook?” Zeke yelled. “I know it wastough because he got so many.”

Benny smiled. “Don’t worry, I got themall,” he said, tapping his pencil on his note-book. “All fourteen of them.”

Halfway down the steps to the boys’locker room, Ryan, Zeke, and Miles ran intoDrew Moyers in uniform, heading to thegym. “How’d you do?” Drew asked.

“Won big time,” Zeke announced proudly,“44–25.”

“Who’d you play?”“Clemson,” Ryan said.Drew nodded, then said, “Hey, Zeke, can

I talk to you for a minute?”Zeke looked at Ryan and Miles. Ryan,

sensing they weren’t wanted, nudged Miles.“We’ll see you later, Zeke,” he said.

38

“What does Drew want with Zeke?”Miles asked as the boys pushed open thedoor to the locker room.

“I don’t know,” Ryan answered, stillthinking about the game.

A few minutes later, Zeke joined Ryanand Miles in the locker room.

“What did Drew want?” Miles asked.“He wanted me to play in a three-on-

three basketball tournament in the city thisweekend with some guys who made lastyear’s Sligo team,” Zeke said as he yankedhis sweaty red shirt over his head. “He saidthey could use another guard.”

“Sounds cool,” Ryan said. “What didyou say?”

Zeke shook his head. “I told him no.”“Why?” Miles asked. “I’d rather beat those guys than play

with them,” Zeke said, pulling a piece ofpaper from the pocket of his shorts andunfolding it. “And anyway, I told him we’vealready got a team.”

“We’ve already got a team?” Ryanrepeated. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“You, me, Eli, and Miles,” Zeke said

39

with a big smile. “I think we’ll make apretty good team.”

“Maybe, but we haven’t signed up for thetournament,” Miles said.

“This says we can fax in our applicationby tomorrow and pay the money on Satur-day before we play,” Zeke said, holding upthe paper.

Ryan grabbed the paper from Zeke, whosat down and began to unlace his sneakers.Miles peered over Ryan’s shoulder and theboys read the paper together. “Hey, we’vegotta choose a name for our team,” Milessaid.

“Did Drew tell you the name of histeam?” Ryan asked.

“The Chosen Few,” Zeke said.Ryan rolled his eyes. “Those guys think

they’re so great just because they made theSligo team last year,” Ryan said. “I hope weget to play them in this tournament. Thenthey’ll be calling themselves The RejectedFew.”

“Okay, but what about our name? How’bout The Chosen Too?” Zeke smiled.

40

“We need a name that really fits us,”Miles said slowly. “What do you think ofwhen you think of us?”

“I think of playing basketball, playing football, playing Ping-Pong, hanging out atRyan’s.…” Zeke started.

Ryan laughed and then snapped his fin-gers. “Hey, I’ve got it!”

Zeke and Miles looked at Ryan andwaited.

“What you said, Zeke. We’re alwayshanging out in my basement, right? We’rethe Cellar Dwellers!”

41

Early Saturday morning, Ryan’s stepfa-ther pulled the car up to the curb atthe train station. Ryan, Zeke, Eli, and

Miles, all dressed in basketball gear,hopped out. “Be careful,” Max said. “Callwhen you get back to the station and yourmom or I will come get you.”

“Okay,” Ryan said.“Do you know when you’ll be back?”Ryan smiled. “It depends on how many

games we win.”“Well, good luck, guys,” Max called out as

he drove away.“Hey, hurry up!” Eli shouted. “A train is

coming.”The four boys pushed their fare cards

through the machine and sprinted up the

Seven

escalator. They tumbled into the train just asthe doors were closing. The train was almostempty. Eli and Zeke sat on one side of theaisle and Miles and Ryan sat on the other.

“Hey, Zeke,” Eli said, tossing the basket-ball over to Ryan, “what are the rules forthese games, anyway?”

Zeke pulled the wrinkled application outof his basketball shorts and read from thepiece of paper. “It’s three-on-three halfcourt. Games to twenty points.”

“Do baskets count for two points?” Ryanasked, flipping the ball back across the aisle to Eli.

Zeke nodded, still reading. “Foul shotsare one point each, just like in regular bas-ketball. A team has to clear the ball past thethree-point line after every possession.”

“Are there three-pointers?” Ryan asked.“Yeah, but let’s not go crazy shooting

three-pointers,” Zeke warned. “Let’s try towork it in to Eli for some closer shots.”

“Can you foul out of the game?” Milesasked.

Zeke nodded and held up three fingers.“Three fouls and you’re out of the game.”

43

“You’d better watch the fouls, Eli,” Ryanadvised. “We don’t want you fouling out.You’re our only big guy.”

Zeke, Eli, and Miles kept talking, butRyan began to stare out the window. Thehouses and lawns of the boys’ hometowndrifted by and slowly gave way to the tallbuildings and concrete of the city.

“This is our stop,” Zeke said, startlingRyan, who was deep in thought.

The boys scrambled off the train into thewaking downtown streets. The morningsunshine fell between the tall buildings,creating a checkerboard of light and dark-ness on the city scene.

“Which way are we going, Zeke?” Ryanasked, walking quickly to keep pace withthe others.

“I think it’s this way.”“Wait. Listen,” said Eli, stopping sud-

denly. “Hear that?”It was the distant sound of basketballs

pounding on pavement.“Over there,” Zeke said, pointing. The boys broke into a brisk jog with Zeke

44

leading the way, dribbling as he jogged.They turned a corner and saw a long cityblock that had been transformed into a bas-ketball extravaganza. More than thirtyhoops lined the streets and players of allages were practicing their half-court games.The air was filled with basketballs and bas-ketball chatter.

Thunk. A ball hit the rim on a nearbycourt. “Our ball!” A kid ran right in front ofRyan, chasing the out-of-bounds ball. TheCellar Dwellers passed another court. A tallboy launched the ball toward the net. Swish.“You just can’t stop my jumper!” he shouted.To the left, a group of boys exchanged highfives and a small crowd cheered. “Who’s gotnext?” one of the boys asked.

Ryan and the other Dwellers took theirplace in line at the registration table tuckedinside a large billowy tent. It only took afew minutes for them to move to the front of the line.

“Team name?” the tournament officialasked as Ryan handed over their money.

“The Cellar Dwellers.”

45

“Okay,” the official said, moving his fin-ger down a long piece of paper. “You’re on Court 18 in fifteen minutes against theDowntowners.”

Ryan elbowed Eli and motioned to a largechart hanging in back of the table.

“Look, if we beat the Downtowners,” Ryansaid, “we may get to play the Chosen Few.”

Eli smiled. “Let’s worry about findingCourt 18 and beating the Downtowners first.”

3-ON-3 TOURNAMENT

7th and 8th Grades

The Cellar Dwellers The Downtowners The Chosen Few Henry's Hoopsters The Court Jesters Skywalkers Kings of the Court Dunkmasters

46

The Downtowners were already on thecourt warming up when the Cellar Dwellersarrived. The Cellar Dwellers started throw-ing in a couple of practice shots. But afterjust a few minutes, the referee blew hiswhistle and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

The Downtowners jumped to a 6–0 leadbefore Ryan and his buddies could getwarmed up. But the Cellar Dwellers didn’tquit. Zeke drove hard to the basket andflipped a pass to Ryan for an open 15-footjump shot. Swish.

“Great shot!” Eli yelled. “Come on,Dwellers, play D.”

Eli rebounded a miss by the Downtown-ers and cleared a pass to Zeke out in three-point territory. Zeke wasted no time and putup the ball. It bounced off the rim, but Eliwas right there. He snatched the reboundand tossed a quick hook shot up and in.

“Yes!” Zeke yelled. Then he waved Milesover from the bench. “Hey, Miles, come in for Ryan.”

Ryan sat down on a plastic chair at theedge of the court. “Come on, Dwellers!” heshouted. “Let’s go!”

47

The teams traded baskets. Then Zekedrove in with a twisting layup. Phweeet!The referee’s whistle blew just as the ballfell through the net.

“Basket is good!” the referee called. “Onefoul shot.”

Zeke stood at the foul line and pointed toRyan. “Ryan, come in for Eli,” he said. “And,Eli, wait a couple of minutes and then comein for me.”

Zeke’s foul shot rolled around the rimand in. The Cellar Dwellers led the gamefor the first time, 9–8.

But the lead slipped away. When Eli wason the bench, the Cellar Dwellers had trou-ble rebounding. With Zeke out, the CellarDwellers had trouble handling the ball.Within minutes, it was the Downtownersgame, 18–13. Two more points for the Down-towners and the Cellar Dwellers would be onthe train heading back home.

“Time out!” Zeke shouted from the side-lines.

“Come on, we’ve gotta come back,” Zekesaid as the boys huddled.

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“You’d better come in for me, Zeke,” Milesgasped, tapping his chest and trying tocatch his breath.

“Come on, guys,” someone called. “You’vegotta win so we can beat you next game.”The Cellar Dwellers turned to see DrewMoyers. He was standing next to Eddie Wil-son, Patrick Barrow, and another guy at theside of the court, and he had a big grin on hisface.

“How’d you guys do?” Zeke asked him.“Won 20–15,” Drew answered.Zeke turned his attention back to the

huddle. “Come on, we’ve gotta win so we geta chance at the Chosen Few. Okay, I’ll driveto the basket. Ryan, you spot up for thethree-pointer. Let’s go.”

The boys clapped together as Zeke, Ryan,and Eli ran onto the court. The first chancehe got, Zeke drove hard to the hoop andwhipped a pass to Ryan. The ball barelytouched Ryan’s hands before he sent up ajumper past a leaping defender.

Swish! Three-pointer! 18–16!Zeke stole a pass and found Eli underneath

49

the basket for a quick bucket. Tie ball game!18–18!

“Come on, Dwellers!” Ryan yelled, hisheart pounding. “Defense.”

The Downtowners guard sneaked abounce pass to their big guy near the bas-ket. He went up strong, and Eli went upwith him, stretching for the block. But Eli’shand missed the ball and hit the Down-towner on his wrist.

Phweeet! “Foul,” the referee called. “Twoshots.”

Ryan stood helplessly along the foul line.His shoulders slumped as the Downtownerscenter got ready to shoot.

If he makes both shots, we’re out of thetournament, Ryan thought.

The first shot ripped through the net.19–18.

Please miss it, Ryan pleaded as the sec-ond shot spun to the hoop.

The ball bounced high off the rim and Elisnapped down the rebound, shooting aquick pass to Zeke just beyond the three-point arc.

50

“Ryan!” Zeke called as he faked a passand drove to the basket. He floated a run-ning right-hander up to the rim.

Eli and Ryan rushed to the basketexpecting a rebound, but the ball bouncedsoftly around the rim and plopped in.

The Cellar Dwellers had won, 20–19!Ryan turned and saw Miles pumping his

fist in the air as he ran happily onto thecourt. Behind Miles, standing along thesidelines, Drew Moyers and the ChosenFew were smiling.

51

The Cellar Dwellers hustled back tothe registration tent to find outwhere and when their next game

was. “Hey, here we are,” said Miles. “We’replaying the Chosen Few on Court 23 in tenminutes.”

“Ten minutes!” Ryan repeated. “Whatabout a rest?”

“Quit whining,” Zeke said. “That’s plentyof time. Let’s go.”

The boys dashed past a string ofmakeshift courts filled with three-on-threegames in full swing—whistles were blow-ing, kids were yelling, and balls were flying.“Hey, that must be Court 23,” shouted Eli ashe spotted Drew and his team warming upon a court in the distance.

Eight

The boys picked up their speed. “Okay,”Ryan said, half-yelling to be heard abovethe whistles, cheers, and pounding basket-balls. “Who’s covering who?”

“I’d better take Eddie,” Eli called out ashe jogged alongside Ryan. “He’s theirbiggest guy.”

Zeke and Miles were keeping pace rightbehind Ryan and Eli. “Ryan, you want totake Drew?” Zeke called back.

“What? I can’t hear you.”“Do you want to take Drew?” Zeke

repeated a little louder. “Okay,” Ryan said, slowing his pace as

they reached Court 23. “But I wish we hadJessica. She did a great job covering himin intramurals.”

“Just don’t let him drive on you,” Milessuggested, a little out of breath.

“Yeah, make him shoot from outside,”Zeke said as the boys came to a stop. “Hethinks he’s a better shooter than he is.”

“What if he starts hitting his outsideshot?” Ryan asked.

“Then we lose,” Zeke replied, dribbling

53

his ball onto the court. The boys took ahandful of hurried shots and then heard thestarting whistle.

“I guess I don’t have to tell you,” Zeke saidas the boys huddled at the side of the court,“but if we lose this one, we’ll never hear theend of it.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said with a sly grin. “But ifwe win, they’ll never hear the end of it.”

The two teams took the court, shookhands, and played as if more than just brag-ging rights were at stake. Every possessionwas a battle and every basket was hard-won.

Drew Moyers drained his first two jumpshots and put the Chosen Few ahead early,4–0.

“Don’t worry, he’ll start missing,” Zekewhispered to Ryan.

Sure enough, Drew cooled off and theCellar Dwellers came back. Zeke kept slip-ping the ball to Eli, who powered it in forbaskets. When the Chosen Few starteddouble-teaming Eli, he began rocketing theball to Zeke and Ryan. The Dwellers sharp-shooters knocked down jump shot after

54

jump shot and pushed the Dwellers aheadof the Chosen Few, 12–10.

“Time out!” shouted Eddie Wilson, push-ing his hands high in the air in the form of a T.

The Cellar Dwellers joined Miles on thesidelines. He slapped high fives with Ryanand Eli.

“Quit celebrating!” Zeke warned. “We’reonly up by a basket. They want to win asmuch as we do. We’ve got to keep playinghard. They’re not going to let up.”

“This is a great game,” Miles said, look-ing around the makeshift city-street bas-ketball court.

“Yeah,” Zeke agreed, but quickly added,“let’s make sure we win it.”

Ryan, Zeke, and Eli walked back onto thecourt. Their hair was wet with sweat andtheir damp, stained shirts clung to theirskin.

The game stayed close. The CellarDwellers were leading 16–14 when Zekemissed a jump shot and tall Eddie Wilsonsnapped down the rebound. He instantly

55

got the ball to Drew in three-point territory.Drew faked a long shot and bounced theball back to Eddie, who leaped high with aquick shot. Eli strained to block it.

Phweeet! The referee’s whistled soundedas the ball glanced off the backboard andthrough the net. “The basket is good. Thefoul is on the big guy. One shot.”

As Eddie took his place at the foul line,the high-school kid at the scorer’s tablecalled, “That’s three fouls on the big guy forthe Cellar Dwellers. He’s out of the game.They need a substitute.”

“Aaaaargh,” Eli moaned as he tossed hishead back in despair.

Miles rushed in to replace him.The Cellar Dwellers quickly huddled in

the middle of the court.“You’ve got to cover Eddie,” Ryan said

to Miles.“Me? But Eddie’s too big for me,” Miles

blurted out. “You can cover him,” Zeke argued. “Just

stay with him. The game’s to twenty. Wejust need two more baskets.”

56

“All right,” Miles said with new determi-nation. “Let’s go.”

Eli took his place on the sidelines, wipedhis face with a towel, and threw it angrilyon the street. “Come on, Dwellers, we’restill in it!” he yelled as he paced back andforth.

Eddie sank the free throw to put the Cho-sen Few ahead, 17–16. On the next posses-sion, the Cellar Dwellers passed the ballaround, looking for a good shot. The ChosenFew, energized by their one-point lead,hounded the Cellar Dwellers and shouted toeach other.

“Big D! Big D!”“No shooters. No shooters.”Ryan could feel the game slipping away.

I’ve gotta make something happen, hethought. “Over here,” he called to Zeke, whoflipped him the ball on the right wing. Ryandrove left and threw up an off-balance jumpshot just over Drew’s fingers. The balltouched off the rim, hit the backboard, andfell through. Now it was the Cellar Dwellersturn to shout.

57

“Great shot!”“All right, Ryan.”“Play defense!”The Chosen Few quickly tried to get the

ball to Eddie underneath, but Miles reachedin and tapped the ball loose. The ball washeaded out of bounds but Miles dove head-long after it and slapped it to Ryan. Milesskidded across the asphalt but Ryan got theball.

Before the Chosen Few could recover andset up their defense, Ryan threaded a passto Zeke, who was breaking to the hoop. Zekewent in for an easy layup.

The Cellar Dwellers had won, 20–17!The Chosen Few were stunned. They

mumbled “good game” and exchanged weakhandshakes with the Cellar Dwellers, thenwalked off into the crowd.

The Cellar Dwellers lost their next game to the Court Jesters, but stayed to watch a couple more games. Then they caught acrowded train home. As the train rumbledforward, the great buildings of the city fellaway in the distance.

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“No way we should have lost that lastgame to the Court Jesters,” Zeke saidangrily. “They weren’t that good.”

“I just got tired of getting all therebounds,” Eli teased.

“Quit complaining. We won the biggame,” Miles said, picking at the scab ofdried blood on his right knee.

The four friends sat silently, smiling withthe memory of beating the Chosen Few.

“You know, I think beating those guys isgoing to be better than making the Sligoteam,” Ryan said, still smiling.

Zeke shook his head firmly. “Nothing is going to be better than making the team,”he said.

59

Ryan looked up as the football sailedhigh against the November sky. Heran as fast as he could but could only

watch helplessly as the football flew pasthim, hit the ground, and somersaulted away.He turned and put his hands on his hips asthe other team celebrated around him.

“We won that game!” shouted DustinHenry. “Do you guys want to play another?”

“Nah,” Ryan said. “It’s getting late.” Hewalked toward Eli and Miles. “Do you guysjust want to come to my house?” he asked.

“Sure,” they replied.Miles picked up his saxophone case and

walked slowly across the big open field withRyan and Eli. “We were pretty bad today,” hesaid.

Nine

“We didn’t have our quarterback,” Ryansaid, tossing the football in the air.

“Hey, sorry I can’t throw like Zeke,” Elisaid. “Where is he, anyway?”

“In detention,” Miles said. “Goldberg gothim again for wisecracking in class.”

“Man, Zeke must pay rent in the deten-tion room,” Ryan laughed. “He’s there allthe time.”

The three friends walked through Ryan’sfront door.

“Is that you, Ry?” Max called from theback of the house.

“Yeah. Eli and Miles are with me. We’regoing downstairs.”

“Okay.” The boys descended the narrow steps and

took up their usual spots in the basement.Miles sat on the edge of a chair practicinghis scales while Ryan and Eli smacked thePing-Pong ball back and forth.

“What time is tomorrow’s basketball try-out?” Eli asked.

“Three o’clock. Right after school,” Ryansaid.

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“Is that going to be the only tryout?” Milesasked.

“No, Miles. Wake up. There’s another oneon Thursday,” Ryan said as he smacked aforehand into the net.

“Oh, yeah. Then Coach DeCamp picks the team.”

“Right.” Ryan nodded as Eli’s serve whis-tled by.

“Come on, Ryan,” Eli said impatiently.“Get your head in the game. I’m already up11–4. You’d better play better than this intryouts.”

Just as Ryan served, the boys heard aknock on the basement door. “Come on, guys.Let me in,” Zeke called.

“Will you get the door, Miles?” Ryan said.“I’m busy playing.”

“Why me?” Miles protested. “I’m playingtoo.”

Zeke kept knocking louder and louder.Eli’s next shot skidded past Ryan and onto the floor.

“All right. All right,” Ryan called, movingtoward the door. “Don’t break the doordown.”

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Zeke rushed in, swinging his backpack offhis shoulder. “Man, it’s about time,” he said.

“Goldberg give you detention again?”Miles asked.

“Yeah, so what?”“So you missed a touch football game at

the park,” Ryan said.“How did you do without me?” Zeke asked,

flopping into a chair.“We lost.”Zeke flashed a wide, satisfied smile.

“Guess you guys needed your star quarter-back. Hey, guess who I saw in detentiontoday?”

“Who?”“Benny the Brain!”“No way,” Ryan said. “The teachers love

Benny. He couldn’t get detention if hetried.”

“Okay, so he wasn’t really in detention,”Zeke admitted. “But he was in the roomhelping Eddie Wilson with his math.”

“How’s Eddie doing?” Ryan asked Zekenervously.

Zeke shook his head. “Benny will havehim doing college-level math before long.

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Believe me, Eddie isn’t going to flunk math.”“So he’ll be able to play on the team,”

Ryan said, picturing another name appear-ing on the final team list.

“Yeah, but guess what Benny gave me?”Zeke said, reaching into his backpack.

“What?”“The final stats for the intramural

league.”Miles stopped playing the saxophone,

and Ryan and Eli put their paddles down.When Zeke smoothed the sheet of paper onthe Ping-Pong table, the four boys studiedthe columns of numbers as if they were thesecret to a lost treasure.

“Hey, look who the rebound king is,”Miles exclaimed, punching Eli on the shoul-der. “You’ve got it made for sure, big guy.”

“Drew’s one of the leading scorers,” Ryansaid, pointing to one of the columns.

“He ought to be,” Zeke said. “He takes amillion shots and never passes to anybodyelse.”

Ryan kept studying the columns, silentlycalculating his chances to make the team.

“I’m not on any of the lists,” he said sadly.

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“Benny just printed out the leaders,”Zeke said. “You probably barely missedsome of the lists.”

“Yeah, but only the top guys are going tomake the team,” Ryan said.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Zeke said. “You’llmake the team.”

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Ryan said,looking over the intramural statistics.

“Hey, if Ryan doesn’t make it,” Miles said,picking up his saxophone, “there’s no wayI’m going to make it.”

65

INTRAMURAL STATISTICS Scoring Average Rebounding Average Antoine Daniels 15.3 Eli Powell 8.4 Eddie Wilson 14.0 Matthew Finn 7.8 Alex Kaess 12.9 Johnny Fleming 6.5 Drew Moyers 12.4 Gilbert Wiafe 6.4 Ian Will 12.0 Eddie Wilson 5.9

Assists per Game Shooting Percentage Luiz Fernandez 5.2 Nathan Harmata 48.6 Edward Zilkowski 5.0 Jessica Abell 47.5 Patrick Barrow 4.6 Eli Powell 47.1 Frankie Reilly 4.4 Eddie Wilson 46.4 Scott Hudson 3.0 Andrew Kaess 44.4

Steals per Game Free Throw Percentage Edward Zilkowski 3.0 Jessica Abell 91.7 Luiz Fernandez 1.8 Andrew Kaess 85.0 Antoine Daniels 1.6 Nathan Harmata 83.8 Nicholas Chu 1.6 Daniel Anderson 75.0 Eddie Wilson 1.3 Hannah Will 71.4

“You guys will both make it,” Zekeinsisted.

“How do you figure?” Ryan asked.“You guys are good passers, you play good

defense, you can score, and....” Zeke pauseddramatically.

“And what?” Ryan asked.“You’ve still got the tryouts for the team!”

Zeke said as he threw his arm aroundRyan’s shoulder. “And both of you are goingto have great tryouts.”

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The shot felt perfect as it left Ryan’shand. He watched it soar to the bas-ket. But it angled off its path as a

shower of basketballs bounced about therim, bumping and fighting each other for away to the net. Ryan grabbed a bouncingrebound and looked around. Clusters ofkids hoping to make the team were prac-ticing their jump shots at the six basketsaround the gym.

Ryan quietly sized up the kids to figureout his own chance of making the team.They’ll make it, Ryan thought as he watchedthe Chosen Few and some hotshot eighthgraders toss up shots. No way they’ll make it,he thought, spying a group of nervous sev-enth graders at the far end of the floor.

Ten

“Think there are twelve kids in this gymbetter than you?” Zeke asked, walking up to Ryan.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Ryan replied.Just then, Coach DeCamp came striding

into the gym, a clipboard in his hand and awhistle around his neck.

Phweeet!“All right,” he said in a booming voice. “I

want everybody to line up against the wallaccording to height.”

The boys moved slowly to the end of thegym and arranged themselves into a longline. Ryan stood almost exactly in the mid-dle, next to Miles. Ryan looked down theline to his left and saw Zeke standing as talland straight as he could at the shorter endof the line. Then he looked to his right andelbowed Miles. “Hey, look,” he said. “Eli isthe second-tallest kid trying out. He’ll makeit easy.”

“All right, count off one through five, starting at the end of the line,” CoachDeCamp ordered.

Ryan looked to his left as the boys started

68

calling out numbers. “One!” he shoutedwhen his turn came.

When the last kid had counted off, CoachDeCamp continued calling out instructions:“All right, I want all the number ones to lineup here at the end of the court. This is yourstarting line.” Ryan and six other playersstepped forward.

“Basketball is a game of speed and quick-ness,” the coach said as he paced the side-lines. “So I want to see how fast each of youcan move.”

Ryan eyed the other boys on the line andshook his legs to loosen his muscles.

“I want you to run, touch the floor there,where that red tape is,” the coach said, point-ing at the tape eight feet inside the court,“then come back and touch the starting line,run out and touch the blue tape near the foulline, run back and touch the starting lineagain, and finally run and touch the greentape just beyond the foul line and back to thestarting line. Understood?”

The seven boys nodded. Ryan took a deepbreath and crouched down, ready to run.

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“On your mark. Get set. Go!”Ryan bolted, stopped just short of the red

tape, reached down, touched it, and dashedback to the starting line and out to the bluetape. He could hear Miles, Eli, and Zekecheering above all the others as he ran.

“Come on, Ryan, move it.” “Get the lead out!”Ryan flashed across the finish line a half

step in front of his group. He was breathinghard, but when he saw Coach DeCamp mak-ing a mark in his notebook, Ryan smiled tohimself. He slapped a satisfied high fivewith Miles as he took his place in line.

“Good job,” Miles said. “Next group, step up to the line,” Coach

DeCamp called. “Good luck,” Ryan said as Miles stepped

up to the line.More than an hour later, Ryan was bent

over and breathing hard after anotherseries of drills. Coach DeCamp had put theboys through their paces. Three-player full-court weaves. Fast-break drills. Layups.Foul shots.

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Ryan angrily smacked his leg, thinkingabout the foul shots he had missed. Heknew every one of those misses was markeddown in the coach’s notebook.

Phweeet! The coach’s whistle shrieked.“All right, we’ve got time for a couple of quickscrimmages,” he called. “Let’s have teamsone and two on the floor.”

The boys on those teams ambled onto thefloor as the coach barked orders. “Team one,play skins—shirts off. Man-to-man defense.I’ll call fouls. Skins’ ball.”

Ryan pulled his damp shirt over hishead. He tossed it to Zeke, who was stand-ing at the side of the court. “Go get ’em,Ryan!” Zeke yelled.

Ryan ran downcourt, glanced at CoachDeCamp, and thought, I don’t have muchtime to impress him. I’d better score quick.

Ryan popped out and took a pass on theleft wing. He pivoted toward the basket.Andrew Kaplan was in his face, guardinghim closely. No one was open. Might aswell try to score, Ryan thought. He fakedtoward the middle of the floor and Andrew

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took a half step back. That was enough.Ryan darted to his left, angling pastAndrew to the basket. The shirts’ centercame over to block the shot, but Ryanleaped, sliding by the center and under thebasket. At the last moment, he spun aright-handed scoop shot against the back-board. The ball glanced off the glass andfell through the net. Ryan’s buddies wentwild.

“All right, Ryan!”“What a shot!”“Score one for the Dwellers!”Ryan ran back on defense, beaming. He

glanced at the sideline. Coach DeCamp waswriting in his notebook.

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Man, did you see the look on AndrewKaplan’s face when Ryan hit thatshot?” Zeke said in amazement as

the boys sat around Ryan’s basement thenext afternoon.

“Who wants to play Ping-Pong?” Ryanasked, grabbing a paddle off the table.

“I’ll play,” Eli answered. A late November rain drummed against

the windows. Miles licked the reed of hissaxophone and began playing.

Zeke kept talking. “I mean, Kaplan’s jawwas on the floor,” he said. He cupped hishands around his mouth so he would soundlike a sports announcer. “Ryan Phillips leaps,spins, off the glass for the deuce!” Zekedropped his hands from his mouth, jumped

Eleven

on a chair, and imitated Ryan’s circus shotfrom the day before.

“Hey, get off the chair,” Ryan scolded.“My mom and Max don’t want us jumpingon furniture down here.”

Zeke flopped down, hanging his feet overthe side of the chair. “You made the teamwith that one move, Ryan. I know it,” saidZeke, wagging a finger at his buddy.

“I’m not so sure,” Ryan replied with a grunt as he drilled a forehand past Eli. “Itwas the only basket I scored during thescrimmage.”

Zeke waved his hand as if shooing a flyaway.

“Believe me, it’s the only basket CoachDeCamp will remember,” Zeke argued. “Itwas the best shot of the day.”

“Hey, I get next,” Miles said, nodding atthe Ping-Pong table.

“No way! I got next,” Zeke protested.“They’re playing to see who’ll get the chanceto play me for the championship.”

“Since when are you champ?” Milessquealed in disbelief.

“Since forever.”

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Ryan stood with his hands pressed on thetable. “Zeke, you’ve hardly played the lasttwo weeks. You spent most of your time indetention with Goldberg,” he said sharply.“There’s no way you’re the champ.” Ryansmacked the ball over the net to Eli.

“What do you mean?” Zeke argued. “No-body’s beaten me in the last two weeks, soI’m still champ.”

“Forget it, Zeke,” Ryan said, never taking his eye off the back-and-forth of the Ping-Pong ball.

“All right. All right,” Zeke said. He tosseda few darts glumly at the dartboard butsuddenly cheered up. “Hey, how about agame of doubles?” he asked. “Me and Ryanagainst Eli and Miles.”

Eli laughed. “Zeke, why is it that youonly want to play doubles when you’re theone waiting to play?” He sliced the ballacross the table to Ryan. “Forget it. Youplay after Miles.”

Zeke plopped down in the chair with hisarms crossed, looking like a kid who had been told there was no dessert. But he soonbrightened.

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“Hey, Ryan, where’s that list you made acouple weeks ago?” he asked. “You know, theone of all the players trying out for theteam.”

“It’s somewhere near the computer,”Ryan answered, waving a paddle towardthe back of the basement as he waited forEli to serve.

Zeke rooted around on the top of the deskand returned to his chair with a wrinkledsheet of paper and a pen.

“How did Gilbert Wiafe do in the first try-out?” he asked, looking at the list.

“Okay. Not great,” Ryan said as hewatched the Ping-Pong ball catch the edgeof the table near Eli and spin cockeyedtoward the wall. “It’s 20–14. My lead,” Ryansaid happily. “Game point.”

Eli spun a serve to Ryan. Ryan sliced the ball low over the net and it skidded intiny bounces to Eli. Ryan raised his handshigh in the air. “The new champion,” heannounced.

Eli tossed his paddle to Miles. “You’d bet-ter be ready,” he warned Miles. “Ryan is hot.Real hot.”

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Eli sat on the arm of Zeke’s chair andpeered over his shoulder. “What are youdoing?” he asked Zeke.

“Checking off who’s going to make theteam,” Zeke said.

“Isn’t it kind of early for that?” Ryan said.“We’ve still got one more tryout.”

“You watch,” Zeke said confidently. “I’llpick all twelve. Hey, how did ‘Legs’ Funi-ciello do?”

“Lousy,” Miles said. “He couldn’t shootand finished last in the quickness drill. He’sgone.”

Ryan and Miles volleyed for serve to starttheir game. The ball clicked back and forthin a familiar rhythm.

“What are the check marks for?” Eliasked, still peering over Zeke’s shoulder.

“They’re the guys I figure are going tomake the team. I’m crossing out the guyswho don’t have a chance.”

“You crossed out Drew Moyers. He’s a bigscorer,” Eli protested.

“He’s a gunner,” Zeke insisted. “He musttake a million shots a game. And most ofthem are dumb shots.”

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“What about Dustin Henry?”“He’s a seventh grader.”“The coach is going to keep some seventh

graders,” Ryan reminded Zeke. “AndDustin’s good.”

“If you don’t like my list, make yourown.” Zeke stood up, held the paper high inthe air, and announced, “I proclaim thesetwelve players to be this year’s Sligo bas-ketball team.”

The four boys stood at the side of thetable and studied the list. “I wish you werethe coach, Zeke,” Ryan said.

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SLIGO STALLIONS

8th Graders who made the team last year Eddie Wilson Drew Moyers Patrick Barrow Antoine Daniels

8th Graders who have a chance Ryan Phillips Zeke Zilkowski Eli Powell Miles DuBow Johnny Fleming Frankie Reilly Matthew Finn Ian Will Gilbert Wiafe Nicholas Chu Scott Hudson Andrew Kaplan Anthony CoppolaNathaniel Li Luiz Fernandez

7th Graders who have a chance Alex Kaess Andrew Kaess Dustin Henry Nathan Harmata Daniel AndersonChristopher Lupin

“You watch.” Zeke nodded. “This will bethe team. I know how to pick them.”

“You really think all four of us will makethe team?” Miles asked.

“Sure,” Zeke said and pointed to Eli.“This guy’s a shoo-in.”

“I don’t know why you say that,” Eliprotested. “The coach could cut anybody.”

“Yeah, but you’re tall,” Zeke said. “Didyou see where the coach stood when hetalked to the team? Down near all the tallguys. I could barely see him because he wasstanding so far away from my end of theline.”

“Okay, Eli makes the team because he’stall,” Miles said. “But what about the rest ofus?”

“Don’t worry,” Zeke answered. “In a cou-ple of days we’re all going to be teammates.”

No one spoke. The rain drummingagainst the windows was the only sound inthe room.

Ryan looked from side to side at hisfriends and finally said, “Well, we’ve got onemore chance to make sure it happens.”

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Count off one to five, just like on Tues-day,” Coach DeCamp called out onThursday afternoon. “And hurry up.

We’ve got a lot of scrimmages to play.”The boys in line began to count off.“One…two…three.…”Ryan had noticed that the line was a lit-

tle shorter than on Tuesday. Some of theplayers had given up their dream of makingthe Sligo team and stayed home. Good,Ryan thought. That just gives me a betterchance of making the team.

“Four…five.… One.…”“Two,” Ryan called out and, as the count-

ing off continued, he looked down the line tosee who else would be on team two.

Twelve

“Four…five.… One.…”“Two,” Drew Moyers called out.Oh no, not him, Ryan said to himself. I

won’t get any chances to score with that hot-shot on the team. He never passes to anyone.

Phweeet! The coach blew hard on thewhistle and all the boys snapped to atten-tion. “Let’s mix it up today,” he said. “Let’shave team two and team four on the floor.”

The boys walked onto the court as CoachDeCamp held the ball over his head andshouted instructions.

“Team two is in shirts. Team four inskins. Man-to-man defense. Shirts’ ball.Benny, keep track of the time.”

Benny nodded from his perch in thestands. The coach snapped a bounce pass toChris Lupin, who passed to Drew Moyers.

Ryan hustled down the court. He poppedopen on the left wing, hoping for a pass. But Drew dribbled by a defender and drove to the basket. He threw up a run-ning right-handed shot that bouncedwildly off the rim.

Away from the basket, Ryan had no

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chance for a rebound. He raced back ondefense. “Come on, Drew!” he shouted.“Pass the ball around.”

But the first play was just the beginning.The shirts’ team did not play well. Passesbounced too low. Shots were hurried and offthe mark.

Finally, Ryan caught a good pass on thewing. He was desperate to score and showCoach DeCamp what he could do. He fakedleft, dipped his shoulder, and darted to thebasket. Gary Day, the skins’ team center,reached to block Ryan’s shot but his handcaught Ryan’s wrist instead.

Phweeet! “Foul on the arm,” CoachDeCamp said. “Two shots.”

The coach handed Ryan the ball on thefoul line. Ryan glanced at the stands. Zeke,Eli, and Miles leaned forward on the edge ofthe bench. Benny’s pen was poised abovehis notebook. Ryan wiped his suddenlydamp palms against his shirt.

I wish I had practiced my foul shotsinstead of playing Ping-Pong, Ryanthought.

“Two shots,” Coach DeCamp repeated.

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Ryan bounced the ball three times, took adeep breath, and shot.

The ball bounced off the front of the rimand fell away.

I’ve got to make this one, Ryan thought ashe dipped and shot again. This time the ballclanged off the back of the rim. Ryanjumped forward, straining for the reboundand hoping to make up for his two misses.

Phweeet! Coach DeCamp blew the whis-tle and pointed at Ryan. “Foul on Phillips,over the back,” he said and then turned tothe players in the stands. “Let’s switchteams. Teams one and five on the floor. Let’shustle.”

Ryan halfheartedly slapped hands withZeke and Eli as his two buddies walkedonto the floor. Miles tossed Ryan a towel asRyan slumped onto the bench.

“Man, I played lousy,” Ryan said, disgusted.“You did okay,” Miles assured him.“Yeah, right,” said Ryan. “No points, no

rebounds, two missed foul shots, plus a stu-pid foul.”

“At least the coach calls you by yourname,” Miles said.

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Chapter 14

“What?”“The coach said your name when he

called the last foul,” Miles pointed out. “He’sbeen watching you. He knows who you are.”Miles sighed. “The coach has never calledme by my name.”

Ryan sat on the bench watching thescrimmage and thinking about what Mileshad said. Maybe the coach has been watch-ing me, Ryan thought, but that doesn’t meanI’ll make the team.

Staring out at the game, Ryan comparedhimself with the other Sligo Stallion hope-fuls. Frankie’s not that great a ball handler.I play better defense than Ian does. Nicholasis kind of short to play forward.

He secretly wished that all the playerswould mess up and miss their shots exceptZeke, Eli, and Miles.

Ryan’s thoughts were interrupted whenCoach DeCamp called, “Okay, switch it up.Let’s have teams two and five on the floor thistime.”

Ryan bounced off the bench, eager foranother chance to show what he could do.

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Right away, Ryan got a pass at his favoritespot on the wing. He faked a pass to DrewMoyers, spun past the defender, and slippedin for a twisting layup.

Zeke jumped off the bench as the ball fellthrough the net.

“All right, Ryan!” “Sweet move. Sweet move.”The next time down the court, Ryan took

a pass a little farther out on the wing. With-out hesitating, Ryan let fly a long jump shotpast the leaping defender.

Swish.Zeke was on his feet, his arms pushed

high in the air in a wide V. “Three-pointer!”he shouted. “Three-pointer!”

Ryan could not help smiling as he ran bythe bench where Zeke was shouting. CoachDeCamp took the whistle out of his mouth.“Nice shot, Phillips,” the coach said.

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Rrrrring, rrrring. “I got it,” Ryan’s lit-tle sister Natalie said as she ran tothe phone.

Ryan sat in the living room with hismother. She was reading the front page ofthe Sunday paper and Ryan was studyingthe sports section.

“It’s for you, Ryan.”“Who is it?” he asked as he put down

the paper.“Zeke,” she said, holding the phone out

for Ryan and mouthing the word, “again!”“Don’t stay on too long, Ry,” his mother

called. “You still have homework to do.”“Not much,” he replied, and took the

phone.

Thirteen

“Hi. What’s up, Zeke?” Ryan said.“I was just talking to Nathan Harmata,”

Zeke said, the words tumbling out in excite-ment. “And he said the coach has already posted the list of kids who made the team.It’s on the wall outside the gym.”

“How does he know?”“He rode over to the school and looked in

the back door by the gym.”“Could he see any names on the list?”

Ryan asked, suddenly as excited as Zeke.“No, the door is too far from the list. But

Eli and I are going down first thing tomor-row to check it out when school opens.”

“What about Miles?” Ryan asked. “Is hegoing too?”

“No,” Zeke said. “He said he’d go by later.You want us to swing by and get you?”

Ryan felt his stomach tighten. “Yeah,” hesaid at first. But then suddenly he changedhis mind. It would be too embarrassing tobe with Zeke and Eli if he wasn’t on the list.“No, I’ll…I’ll…you know. I’ll just go bymyself.”

“Okay, have it your way,” Zeke said.

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Ryan, sensing there wasn’t much more tosay, said, “Good luck.”

“Don’t worry,” Zeke said confidently.“We’ll make it.”

“I really hope so,” Ryan said. “See youtomorrow.”

Ryan walked back to the living room,thinking about the single sheet of paper onthe wall outside the gym. His mother wasreading to his sister Natalie as the two cud-dled together with the comics.

“Can I go downstairs for a couple of min-utes before I do my homework?” Ryanasked.

“Okay,” his mother said.Ryan walked through the kitchen. Max

was pouring himself some coffee. “Hey, Ry,I’ll play you in a game of Ping-Pong,” hesaid.

Ryan looked up. “Sure,” he said.“I’ll be down as soon as I finish this,” Max

said, holding up his cup of coffee.Ryan went downstairs and turned on the

lights. The room was empty and quiet. ThePing-Pong paddles lay on the table wherethe boys had left them.

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Ryan wandered over to the chair next to the Ping-Pong table and picked up Zeke’slist. He sat on the edge of the chair andplaced the paper on the Ping-Pong table.He studied the names and the checkmarks, hoping that if he stared at thepaper and concentrated long enough,Zeke’s predicted lineup for the school teamwould come true.

“You ready for our game?” Max said as heentered the room. He grabbed a paddle fromthe table.

“Oh. Yeah…ah…sure.…” Ryan said.“Who’s the champ among your friends?”“You’re looking at him,” Ryan said

proudly. “Actually, Zeke says he is.”Max nodded and then pointed at the

paper with his paddle. “What’s that?”“Just a list of some kids trying out for the

basketball team,” Ryan said. “Zeke was try-ing to figure out who would make it.”

“Did he figure you’d make it?”“Yeah.” Ryan nodded as he picked up his

paddle. “But I wish I could be as sure asZeke.”

“Well, you’ll find out tomorrow.”

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“Max,” Ryan asked, “did you ever get cutfrom a team?”

“Sure,” Max replied with a laugh. Hethought for a moment. “I remember when Iwas in the ninth grade I tried out for thebasketball team and didn’t make it,” he saidas he bounced the ball up and down on hispaddle. He caught the ball and continued.“Of course, I was small for my age. I hadn’thit my growth spurt and it seemed likeeverybody else had. So I didn’t expect tomake the basketball team.” He looked atthe paddle, shook his head and said, “But Ireally thought I was going to make thebaseball team.”

“What happened?” Ryan asked.“Well, we had a week of tryouts and I

did pretty well. I hit the ball well. I was agood fielder, not great, but good enough. Ieven got the school physical that they gaveto all the kids who play on the schoolteams. All the kids, including me, weresure that I was going to be on the team.But when the coach posted the team ros-ter, my name wasn’t there.” His voice

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trailed off, sounding far away. Then hechuckled to himself. “I even remember thekid who made the team instead of me.”

“Who?”“Peter Nagle. He was a big kid. We used

to call him ‘Pugsley.’”“Why didn’t you make it?”“I was pretty small and kind of slow,”

Max laughed again. “Not a very good combi-nation for baseball.”

“Did you ever play baseball after that?”Ryan asked.

“Yeah. I played in a Babe Ruth League,but never on a school team.” Max spun hispaddle in his hand. “Come on, I thought wewere going to play a game.”

“I really hope I make the team. I’ve got apretty good shot at it,” Ryan said, movingfrom the side of the table.

“I hope you make it, too, Ry,” Max said.“But if you don’t, that will be okay. Youknow—”

Ryan interrupted. “I know, Michael Jor-dan got cut from his varsity team.”

“Really? I didn’t know that,” Max said. “I

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was going to tell you that Bill Russell didn’tmake his high school team on his first try.”

“Bill Russell? Who’s he, a friend ofyours?”

“Not exactly,” Max said with a wide grin.“Bill Russell played center for the BostonCeltics. He won eleven NBA championshipsin thirteen years.”

“Wow! That’s even more than MichaelJordan.”

“Yeah. I’ll bet a lot of good players get cutsometime in their career. But that doesn’tstop them. They keep playing the game,”said Max. Then he pointed to the table.“Hey, enough already. We’ve got a game toplay right here. Let’s volley for serve.”

Max bounced the ball across the table toRyan.

“Good luck,” Max said.

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Thumpa, thumpa, thumpa, thumpa.Ryan could hear his heart poundingharder with each step as he ran up

the winding concrete walkway to the school.His mouth was dry, and the sour taste of hismorning orange juice stuck in the back ofhis throat.

No kids were around. The bell for thefirst class was still a half hour away. Ryanlooked around for Zeke and Eli but didn’tsee them. The side door leading to the gymwas open. Inside, the doorway looked darkand forbidding, like the mouth of a cave.

Ryan was almost out of breath as hewalked through the door. He hesitated for amoment to let his eyes adjust to the dim

Fourteen

light. Down the short hallway, he saw thelist. Two seventh graders were walkingaway from it, shaking their heads in disap-pointment. No way those two made it, Ryanthought.

Ryan could barely feel the hard linoleumfloor beneath his feet as he walked slowlydown the empty hallway. His heart beatwildly.

Finally his eyes focused on the list. Hestudied the plain black names on the whitepaper taped firmly at the corners to thewall. Ryan’s mind was a jumble of namesand thoughts as he read down the list.

The following individuals should reportfor boys’ basketball practice tomorrow at3:00 P.M. Antoine Daniels…Eddie Wilson… Iguess he passed math…Eli Powell…so thebig guy made it!…Frankie Reilly…IanWill…Edward Zilkowski—Zeke! All right,Zeke made it!…Patrick Barrow…NathanHarmata…Alex Kaess…Andrew Kaess...Iknew Coach would take some seventh grad-ers…Matthew Finn… Dustin Henry.

Ryan looked at the names again. But thelist did not change. His name was not

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there. Neither was Miles’s or Drew’s or somany others.

Ryan had not made the team.A bit dazed, Ryan wandered down the

hall, fighting back the urge to run home. Heturned the corner of the corridor and sawZeke and Eli standing beside their lockers.I can’t avoid them the rest of my life, Ryanthought. “Hey guys,” he said, trying to keepthe disappointment out of his voice.

The two boys turned around. The smileson their faces suddenly vanished.

“Hey, Ryan,” Zeke said, trying to soundas if everything was fine.

“Hey, Ryan,” Eli said. Both boys shuffledtheir feet and looked at the floor.

“Congratulations. I saw you made theteam,” Ryan piped up, breaking the awk-ward silence.

“There’s no way the coach should have left you off the team,” Zeke said a little tooloudly. “You’re better than half the guyswho made it.”

Eli nodded in agreement. “You shouldhave made it, Ryan.”

Ryan managed a weak smile. “I always

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said I wished you could pick the team,Zeke,” he said. “Look, I’ve gotta go. I need tograb some stuff out of my locker beforeclasses start.” He started down the hall.

“Hey, Ryan,” Zeke called. Ryan turned.“We’re still friends, right?” Zeke asked.

“Sure.” Ryan nodded. “We’re just notteammates.”

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The next afternoon, Ryan halfheart-edly threw darts at the dartboard inthe basement. Miles leaned forward

on the edge of a chair and played a slow,bluesy tune on his sax. The basementseemed strangely empty without Eli andZeke.

Ryan sank the final dart deep into theboard. “You want to play Ping-Pong orsomething?” he asked Miles.

“Not really,” Miles said. “Looks like you’llbe the Ping-Pong champ for a while.”

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked.“With Zeke and Eli playing on the team

after school, there’s nobody to challengeyou.”

Fifteen

“What about you?”“This is my game,” Miles said as he held

up his sax. “I’m going to concentrate on mysax. I think I’m going to try out for the Sligo jazz band.”

“You’ll make it,” Ryan said confidently.“I hope so,” Miles said. “But I thought

I might make the basketball team and thatdidn’t happen.”

Ryan flopped back into his chair. “Man, I sure wish I’d made the basketball team,”he groaned.

“Well, maybe you’ll turn out to be like—”“Like Michael Jordan?” Ryan finished

the thought for Miles. “Yeah, right.”Miles glanced at his watch. “I’ve gotta get

going,” he said, putting his sax into its case.“I’ve got a music lesson in fifteen minutes.New teacher.”

After Miles left, Ryan was all alone. Hemissed the way things used to be. Hemissed the usual noises. The plick-plock ofthe Ping-Pong ball. All of the guys’ jokesand teasing. Ryan even missed Zeke claim-ing he was the champion at everything.

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Ryan started feeling sorry for himself. Itseemed like he had lost more than just aplace on the team.

Finally, Ryan stood up and grabbed abasketball from the corner of the basement.Well, if I’m going to be like Michael Jordan,he thought, I’d better start practicing.

He walked upstairs and called out, “Hey,Mom, I’m going down to the park to shootsome baskets.”

“Okay,” she said. “Be back by five o’clock.It starts getting dark early.”

As Ryan dribbled to the park, poundingthe ball against the pavement, he keptthinking about the list and the team. Zekewas right, he thought, I’m better than halfthe kids on that list. I should have made theteam.

It was an unusually mild day for mid-December and a bunch of younger kids werehooping it up at the park on one of the basket-ball courts. Ryan found an empty court andstarted working on his game. He dribbled,shot, and rebounded the ball with more deter-mination than ever. He dribbled so hard, it

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was as if he were pounding out his anger anddisappointment. He was so focused on practic-ing that he didn’t see the kid riding a bikenearby.

“Hey, Ryan.”Ryan stopped and looked around. Drew

Moyers stood at the edge of the court, strad-dling his bike. “Mind if I play too?” Drewasked.

“I guess not. Come on,” Ryan said. Drewput down his bike and Ryan took a shot andtossed him the ball.

Drew dribbled and put up a jumper thatbounced off the rim and fell away.

He smiled. “Maybe that’s why I’m downhere with you instead of in the gym practic-ing with the team.”

Ryan picked up the ball and tossed itback. “I thought for sure you’d make theteam,” Ryan said. “You made it last year.”

“I took too many dumb shots during try-outs,” Drew said. “And Coach said I’ve gotto work on other parts of my game too, like passing to other players.”

Ryan laughed. “Yeah, I think the coachmight have a point.”

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Drew laughed too, but not as hard asRyan. Then Ryan put up a jumper. Swish.

“You know,” Drew said, chasing the ball, “I was sure you were going to make it.”

“I guess I didn’t shoot well enough,either,” Ryan said. He was quiet for amoment, thinking back on the tryouts. “Sowhat are you going to do about playing hoopthis winter?”

Drew spun to his left and canned a fifteen-foot jumper. “I’m signed up for a recreationleague team,” he said. “What about you?”

Ryan swished another jumper. “I’ll proba-bly play a lot of Ping-Pong,” he joked.

“You any good?” Drew asked.“Pretty good.”“I’ve played some Ping-Pong. Maybe I

can give you a game sometime.”“Sure” Ryan said. “I’m glad to find some

competition. I have a table in my basement.”Ryan’s long jump shot rattled around the

rim and fell through the net.“Nice shot,” Drew said. “You know that

rec league team I play on—the level of playis pretty good. We could use a guy like you.

I could tell the coach about you, if you wantto play.”

“Sure,” Ryan said eagerly.Ryan and Drew kept playing as the win-

ter darkness descended and seemed to stealthe mild air away. They paid no attention tothe growing cold and moved around thecourt, shooting, rebounding, and passing.The two boys didn’t say much.

Finally Ryan grabbed a rebound and heldon to the ball. “You know, I thought notmaking the team was the worst thing thatcould happen,” he said, looking at Drew.

“Yeah, I felt awful when I didn’t see myname on the list,” Drew agreed. He held outhis hands for the ball as Ryan flipped it tohim and kept talking.

“We can still play ball for the rec teamsand work on a few things, I guess,” Ryan said.“And I can help you with your passing,” headded kiddingly. “But really, if we keep upour skills we’ve got a good shot at making theteam next year.” Ryan broke for the basketbut Drew dipped and sent a jumper spinningto the hoop.

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“Yeah, you’re right,” Drew said, grabbingthe ball that bounced high off the rim. “I guess I should have passed the ball to youjust then,” Drew said with a laugh. Thistime, Drew bounced a quick pass that Ryancaught in midstride and laid in the basket.

Ryan and Drew smiled at each other andslapped a lazy high five. “You know, we’renot the only guys who have been disap-pointed about being cut,” Drew said. “Didyou know Michael Jordan got cut from hishigh school varsity team?”

Ryan almost laughed. He held the ball,thinking back to all the hours he and Zeke,Eli, and Miles had spent in Ryan’s base-ment talking about Michael Jordan anddreaming about being teammates.

“Yeah, I heard something about that,”Ryan said. Then he took one last shot.

Swish.

The End

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Michael Jordan of the Chicago Bullsand the Washington Wizards waswithout a doubt one of the greatest

basketball players of all time. Michael played on many championship

teams—at the University of North Carolina,in the National Basketball Association(NBA), and in the Olympics. He was a ten-time NBA All-Star and a ten-time NBA scor-ing champ. And Michael was not only a bigstar in America; he has fans all over theworld.

But he wasn’t born big and famous. As akid in Wilmington, North Carolina, MichaelJordan was just one of the crowd. He wasn’tthe best basketball player in the neighbor-hood, or even the best basketball player in

Michael JordanThe Real Story

his family. His older brother Larry alwaysbeat him in one-on-one games. Michaellearned a lot from him.

Basketball was just one of the sportsMichael played as a kid. He was a pitcheron his school’s baseball team and a quarter-back on the football team.

But in high school,Michael really startedto get serious aboutbasketball. By thetime he was a soph-omore, Michael hadgrown to 5 feet, 10inches tall and playedpoint guard. Thoughhe thought he wasgood enough for theschool’s varsity basket-ball team, he didn’tmake the final cut,and he spent the wholeseason playing with

the junior varsity. His disappointment at notmaking varsity made him more determined

106

Michael Jordan flies high overHogard High School defendersfor the Lancey High Schooluccaneers in 1980.

to make it next time. The following summerhe played basketball every chance he got.He worked hard on improving his skills. (Healso grew five inches!)

When he started his junior year, Michaelwas bigger and better, and he had no trou-ble making the varsity team. But he didn’tslow down after he made the team. He keptworking hard. He went to his varsity prac-tices, but he also kept going to junior var-sity practices so he could get extra workouttime. And by his senior year, Michael wasan outstanding ballplayer.

Michael Jordan is not the only basketballstar who struggled at the beginning. BostonCeltic center Bill Russell did, too. He isretired now, but when Bill Russell played, hewas basketball’s greatest winner. In college,he played on teams that won two cham-pionships, and in the pros, his teams woneleven NBA championships. Russell alsoplayed basketball in the Olympics, where histeam won the gold medal.

Russell grew up in Oakland, California.As a kid, he was tall and clumsy. “I could

107

run and jump, all right, but if there was abasketball within twenty feet of me, I wentto pieces,” he once said.

When he was a sophomore in high school,he tried out for the junior varsity basketballteam. (He knew he didn’t have a chance ofmaking the varsity.) Sixteen kids tried outfor fifteen spots. The team’s kind coach,George Powles, did not have the heart to cutanyone. So Bill and a teammate had toshare the fifteenth jersey. Though today BillRussell is in the Basketball Hall of Fame,during his sophomore year in high school, heonly played in half of the junior varsitygames—he sat in street clothes behind theteam’s bench during the other games!

108

Bill Russell pre-pares to sink ashot for theUniversity ofSan FranciscoDons in themid-1950s.

Like Michael Jordan, young Bill Russellkept practicing and kept growing. After hissenior year in high school, he earned a bas-ketball scholarship to the University of SanFrancisco and was on his way to becoming a basketball star.

Michael Jordan and Bill Russell got bet-ter because they didn’t give up. They bothkept playing and worked hard. And theylearned that even if a player doesn’t makethe final cut one year, with hard work anddedication, that player may very well makethe team next time.

109

Acknowledgments

Much of the information about MichaelJordan found in The Real Story chapter isfrom the following books: Hang Time: Daysand Dreams with Michael Jordan by BobGreene; Michael Jordan: Beyond Air byPhilip Brooks; Sports Great: Michael Jor-dan by Nathan Aaseng; Michael Jordan:Basketball Skywalker by Thomas R. Raber;and Michael Jordan: A Biography by BillGutman. The information about Bill Rus-sell is from Second Wind: The Memoirs of anOpinionated Man by Bill Russell and TaylorBranch.

About the Author

One of the biggest dis-appointments of FredBowen’s life was that hedid not make his highschool varsity basketballteam in Marblehead, Mass-achusetts. But he did notstop playing. Mr. Bowenplayed pickup basketballand in recreational leaguesfor twenty-five years. Heplayed on the same team, the Court Jesters, foreighteen straight seasons.

Over a period of thirteen years, Mr. Bowencoached thirty-one different kids’ sports teams insoccer, baseball, softball, and basketball.

Mr. Bowen is the author of a number of sportsnovels for young readers. He lives in SilverSpring, Maryland, with his wife Peggy Jackson.His daughter is a college student and his son is acollege baseball coach.

Mr. Bowen writes a weekly sports column forkids in the Washington Post.

Visit his website at www.fredbowen.com.

Fred Bowen Sports Story seriesDon’t miss all the action-packed books by Fred Bowen. Check out www.SportsStorySeries.com for more info.

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The Falcons have the skill but not the height to win their games. Will the full-court zone press

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Off the RimPB: $5.95 / 978-1-56145-509-6 / 1-56145-509-1

Hoping to be more than a benchwarmer, Chris learns that defense is just as important as offense.

The Final CutPB: $5.95 / 978-1-56145-510-2 / 1-56145-510-5

Four friends realize that they may not all make the team and that the tryouts are a test—not only of their athletic skills, but of their friendship as well.

On the LinePB: $5.95 / 978-1-56145-511-9 / 1-56145-511-3

Marcus is the highest scorer and the best rebounder, but he’s not so great at free throws—until the school

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T. J.’s Secret PitchPB: $5.95 / 978-1-56145-504-1 / 1-56145-504-0

T. J.’s pitches just don’t pack the power they need to strike out the batters, but the story of 1940s baseball hero Rip Sewell and his legendary eephus pitch may help him find a solution.

The Golden GlovePB: $5.95 / 978-1-56145-505-8 / 1-56145-505-9

Without his lucky glove, Jamie doesn’t believe in his ability to lead his baseball team to victory. How will he learn that faith in oneself is the most important equipment for any game?

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Scott and his teammates can’t find an adult to coach their team, so they must find a leader among themselves.

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Brendan is one of the best players in the league, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t make his team win.

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Kyle makes a poor decision to cheat in a big game. Someone discovers the truth and threatens to reveal it. What can Kyle do now?

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