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Author: Paul Mantell Ronde Barber Tiki Barber
their paces with just a hint of direction here and there. That left practice in the hands of Sugar Morton, the teamâs shooting guard, and therefore, its on-court general.
Sugar was not laid-back in the least. His personality was dominating, and his huge natural talent forthe game helped give him even more authority over his teammates.
Today, that authority was being put to use mostly to help Rory Mathis, the substitute shooting guard who was now going to be starting, go through the teamâs set plays with the rest of the starting five.
Tiki knew this drill. It was hard for a kid who was used to subbing to suddenly have all the focus put on him, and Rory was no exception. He knew, as they all did, that Brian Reynolds, who had been shipped off to military school, was a better shooter. That was why, until now, Rory had sat on the bench most of the time.
Tiki, the new sub, was not the priority at the moment. He was left pretty much on his own, to watch, and learn the plays.
Coach Wheeler would have given him a book full of diagrams to study, but Coach Jackson was not like that. It had never occurred to him that once heâd taught the team the plays, he might need to show them to new players in the middle of the season.
Tiki figured out the five-man weave pretty quickly, and managed to draw a few appreciative comments when he got his turn to be a part of it.
The other plays were much harder, though. One, called Brooklyn, was designed to clear out the right side of the frontcourt so Sugar could go one-on-one with his defender. Tiki caught on to that one pretty fast too.
As for the rest, he soon found his head buzzing. He wished heâd brought a pad and paper with him to diagram the plays for himself, but heâd never thought the coach wouldnât have handouts to give him!
Afterward, in the locker room, when Coach Jackson clapped him on the shoulder and thanked him for joining the team, Tiki didnât mention his confusion. He was embarrassed to admit that he hadnât really caught on to most of it.
Besides, from what he and Ronde had witnessed the other day at the game, the team didnât use most of those plays much anyway. More often than not, it was just Sugar Morton playing his brand of amazing street b-ball, against whoever and whatever the other team threw at him. So Tiki figured it wouldnât really matter much if he didnât know the plays when game time rolled around.
â¢Â  â¢Â  â¢
As it happened, his first game was the very next day. Heâd had no time to think about what to tell Laura Sommer, but he figured he could avoid her until heâd at least had some game action under his belt. Twice that day, heâd had to duck into stairwells to keep her from spotting him in the halls. As soon as the final bell rang, Tiki raced down the stairs to the locker room, his book bag tucked under his arm like a football.
This was a familiar drill to him. This felt right. Thiswas the feeling heâd missed all these weeks since the football season had endedâthe feeling of his blood coursing through him, his heart pumping, his breathing deep and fast.
He burst into the locker room, where he expected to find the rest of the team as excited as he was. Instead, he saw a group of boys sitting casually on benches, or combing their hair in the mirror, or slowly getting into uniform, expressionless.
âWuzzup!â he greeted them, but the most he got in reply were a few âheyâs. Everyone seemed to be feeling down, and it took Tiki only a moment to realize why.
Brian Reynolds, their normal starting shooting guard, was gone for the season. Their record was a game under .500. And their coach wasnât even there!
âMr. Jacksonâs got a teachersâ meeting,â explained Bobby Dominic, the teamâs starting center. Bobby was about six feet tall, maybe even taller. He was skinny as a stick, and his arms looked like branches waving in
Sugar was not laid-back in the least. His personality was dominating, and his huge natural talent forthe game helped give him even more authority over his teammates.
Today, that authority was being put to use mostly to help Rory Mathis, the substitute shooting guard who was now going to be starting, go through the teamâs set plays with the rest of the starting five.
Tiki knew this drill. It was hard for a kid who was used to subbing to suddenly have all the focus put on him, and Rory was no exception. He knew, as they all did, that Brian Reynolds, who had been shipped off to military school, was a better shooter. That was why, until now, Rory had sat on the bench most of the time.
Tiki, the new sub, was not the priority at the moment. He was left pretty much on his own, to watch, and learn the plays.
Coach Wheeler would have given him a book full of diagrams to study, but Coach Jackson was not like that. It had never occurred to him that once heâd taught the team the plays, he might need to show them to new players in the middle of the season.
Tiki figured out the five-man weave pretty quickly, and managed to draw a few appreciative comments when he got his turn to be a part of it.
The other plays were much harder, though. One, called Brooklyn, was designed to clear out the right side of the frontcourt so Sugar could go one-on-one with his defender. Tiki caught on to that one pretty fast too.
As for the rest, he soon found his head buzzing. He wished heâd brought a pad and paper with him to diagram the plays for himself, but heâd never thought the coach wouldnât have handouts to give him!
Afterward, in the locker room, when Coach Jackson clapped him on the shoulder and thanked him for joining the team, Tiki didnât mention his confusion. He was embarrassed to admit that he hadnât really caught on to most of it.
Besides, from what he and Ronde had witnessed the other day at the game, the team didnât use most of those plays much anyway. More often than not, it was just Sugar Morton playing his brand of amazing street b-ball, against whoever and whatever the other team threw at him. So Tiki figured it wouldnât really matter much if he didnât know the plays when game time rolled around.
â¢Â  â¢Â  â¢
As it happened, his first game was the very next day. Heâd had no time to think about what to tell Laura Sommer, but he figured he could avoid her until heâd at least had some game action under his belt. Twice that day, heâd had to duck into stairwells to keep her from spotting him in the halls. As soon as the final bell rang, Tiki raced down the stairs to the locker room, his book bag tucked under his arm like a football.
This was a familiar drill to him. This felt right. Thiswas the feeling heâd missed all these weeks since the football season had endedâthe feeling of his blood coursing through him, his heart pumping, his breathing deep and fast.
He burst into the locker room, where he expected to find the rest of the team as excited as he was. Instead, he saw a group of boys sitting casually on benches, or combing their hair in the mirror, or slowly getting into uniform, expressionless.
âWuzzup!â he greeted them, but the most he got in reply were a few âheyâs. Everyone seemed to be feeling down, and it took Tiki only a moment to realize why.
Brian Reynolds, their normal starting shooting guard, was gone for the season. Their record was a game under .500. And their coach wasnât even there!
âMr. Jacksonâs got a teachersâ meeting,â explained Bobby Dominic, the teamâs starting center. Bobby was about six feet tall, maybe even taller. He was skinny as a stick, and his arms looked like branches waving in
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