Rucker Park Setup Read Online Free

bother him one damn bit.
    When that silence is over, kids drop their hands on my back and shoulders, like I deserve some kind of sympathy. Only I don’t.
    Mitchell huddles us up and goes through the first few plays he wants to run. Then we all put our hands on top of each other’s in a big pile, and Mitchell gives us a speech about playing hard.
    â€œThis is what you’ve all been dreamin’ about,” says Mitchell. “Now you each gotta look inside yourself and see what’s really there. And don’t forget—when you let yourself down, you fail your brother, too.”
    My eyes are already down on the ground.
    Everybody’s got J.R.’s initials on their sneakers to remember him.
    His good kicks are still in the hallway at my crib, and I won’t touch them for anything.
    J.R.’s mom once taught mine how to make Spanish rice and beans. We were going to eat that at my place and change there before the game, while my mother’s husband was still at work.
    Sometimes I see J.R. standing inside those sneakers. He just looks at me with his arms folded on top of his chest. I keep thinking how he must know everything from where he is. But his face is all calm, and he’s not mad or anything.
    He just looks at me, like he’s waiting for me to set things right.
    But that’s easy for J.R. He’s safe now, and nobody can touch him anymore. I still got to walk these streets and be out here playing ball so I can make it one day.
    â€œLet me hear it, everybody! On three!” says Mitchell.
    â€œOne, two, three— teamwork !” kids shout.
    It blasts from my throat, too, but it doesn’t have any feeling.
    Fat Anthony’s jawing at his players in their huddle. I can see his face twist with every word he pushes out of his mouth.
    Then they circle up tighter and shout, “Just win!”
    Fat Anthony follows them halfway onto the court.
    â€œRemember, if you fuck up out there, don’t even come back to the bench. I only got seats for winners,” says Anthony. “Yo mama might still love you, but I won’t!”
    J.R.’s pops stands at center court, between the two tallest kids. He tosses the ball up higher than both of them can reach, and the crowd lets out a noise that starts something burning inside of me.
    There’s no more talk, and nothing to think about. There’s just basketball.
    A kid in green rips the rock away from a white jersey, and we head up court with the ball. Mitchell called my number for the first play. Two of our kids step out in front of me, and I move around a double-screen. The guy that’s guarding me gets caught up in all the traffic. I sprint alone past the spot where J.R. got killed. I let an open shot fly from the corner, and the ball’s through the net before my feet touch the ground again.
    â€œLadies and gentlemen, you better Hold the Mustard tonight,” echoes Acorn. “It’s two to nothing, Greenbacks.”
    I look up, and Stove is running back down court, right next to me. But before our eyes come together, I turn away to find my man on defense.
    Both teams score a basket on their next possession. Then the ball kicks out-of-bounds off two kids fighting for it. Hamilton, the other ref on the court, isn’t sure who touched it last, and looks at Stove for help. Finally Hamilton points our way. That’s when Fat Anthony flips, and starts screaming at Hamilton like it’s the biggest play of the game.
    â€œYou don’t make a call against my team unless you see it!” fires Anthony. “Folks didn’t fill this park to hear you blow that tin whistle!”
    Hamilton walks off from Fat Anthony, and the crowd lets him hear it.
    â€œ Zebra—Zebra! We don’t need ya—We don’t need ya!”
    This is Hamilton’s first championship game at Rucker Park, and Fat Anthony’s working him hard. He’s trying to get into Hamilton’s head, so a big