Hoop Crazy (10 page)

“To see that we're the right age … right?”

“Exactly.”

My father turned to Debbie. “You did bring his birth certificate, right?”

“I have it right here,” she said. “I'm used to having to show it to people. Nobody ever believes he isn't older.”

We crossed over a street, moving between other cars and trucks waiting to park. Up ahead I could see the courts — lots and lots of courts. Stretching out ahead set up in a parking lot were dozens and dozens of hoops.

We passed by the first court. It had a little sign — Court 22 — above it. The backboard was covered with an ad for a shoe company. I looked at the next
backboard, and the next, and the next. Each one was covered by an advertisement. It seemed like if you could wear it, bounce it, drink it, or play it, it was advertised on one of the backboards. Maybe they should —

“Ouch!” I said as Ned bumped into me.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I was just looking around … there's so many people … so much to see. How many courts are there?”

“I don't know, but I see a sign above that far one and it says sixty-six, so at least that many,” I said.

“They have to have that many. I heard there are going to be over six hundred teams here today,” Kia said.

“We're competing against six hundred teams!” Ned exclaimed.

“No, of course not. That's how many teams there are in all categories, all ages and both boys' and girls' teams.”

“There are girls' teams?” Ned asked. “But …” he motioned to Kia.

“We're a boys' team. Think of me as a boy … just smarter and better-looking.”

“Girls can be on a boys' team. Boys can't be on a girls' team,” I explained.

“Do you know how many teams will be in our category?” Ned asked.

“We'll find out when we get our schedule,” my
father said. “Here's the registration booth.”

We stopped in front of an open-sided tent. There were tables at the sides and gigantic charts on the walls. Each chart represented one category. That was where all the scores would be listed after each game.

I turned around to watch the activities while my father registered us. It had only been a few minutes since we started our walk across the area, but already it had gotten busier. A few kids were taking shots at different hoops. A big refreshment stand — the sign said it sold ‘dogs, burgers and cold drinks' — opened up. A machine was turned on with a loud hiss and a gigantic inflatable basketball, already the size of a small house, was rising up.

“I can't believe how busy it is,” Ned said. “There must be a couple of hundred people here.”

“That's nothing. By the time the first games start I bet there'll be more than a thousand people here,” I said.

“You're wrong,” Kia said. “There won't be a thou-sand people. There'll be thousands and thousands of people.”

“That's a lot of people,” Ned said.

“That's not that many,” I said.

“Maybe not to you, but you have to remember where I come from, the big gest place has only three hundred people who live there, and I
have to drive three hours to even find that many people.”

“There we are, all registered,” my father said, returning with some papers in his hands.

“How many teams in our category?” I asked.

“Twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four!” Ned exclaimed.

“Don't worry,” Kia said. “Most of them won't be that good.”

“I hope not,” I said.

“The teams are divided into four divisions, so you've only got five other teams and you play round-robin.”

“What does that mean?” Ned asked.

“We play each team once,” I said.

“That means we have five games,” Ned said.

“And what happens after the round-robin?” I asked.

“As far as I can tell the top two teams from each division then make the playoffs,” my father said.

“So twenty-four teams become eight,” Kia said.

“And if we make the playoffs?” Ned asked.

“It looks like the second place team in each division plays one of the teams that finished first in another division. Sudden death.”

“Which means that the losing team goes home,” Kia said. “So there's only four teams left.”

“And those teams play again?” Ned asked.

Kia nodded. “And the winners of those games play in the finals.”

“So if we keep winning we could play … five, six, seven, eight games,” Ned said.

I had to hand it to Ned. He didn't know much about basketball, but he certainly could do math.

“If we keep winning,” I agreed, although I figured five was about all we'd be playing. It was unlikely we'd be top two in our division.

“Enough talking about playing, we'd better get you to your court so you can warm up for your first game,” my father said. “You're going to be on court seventy-two. Follow me.”

We trailed behind my father as he wove his way toward our court. Although no games had officially started yet there were people on every court, practicing, taking shots, fooling around. It was obvious that there were lots of different ages and sizes and skill levels. I watched some of the older players as we passed by. Some were putting up shots from the three-point line — shots that were dropping. Others were dunking, the backboard and rim screaming in protest. This would have been fun to watch if I wasn't playing.

“Boy, these guys can play, can't they, Ned,” I said.

He didn't answer. I looked around. He was walking off to the side, well away from us, staring at the action.

“Ned!” I yelled.

He popped out of his trance and looked at me. He trotted over.

“What's going on over there?” Ned said, pointing to a set of metal bleachers that were on three sides of one court.

“That's center court,” Mark explained. He'd been down here last year. “They have all the contests there.”

“Contests?” Ned asked.

“Three-point shooting, two-ball contests, dunking contests,” Mark said. “We can come and watch between games and —”

His voice was drowned out by a blast of music. We all turned around. Radio station KIZS 99 had opened up its mobile station and music was blaring out of three gigantic speakers.

“That's really loud!” Ned said.

“Ned, do you know what this reminds me of ?” Debbie asked.

He shook his head.

“That time when we went into Dawson Creek because the carnival had come to town.”

I looked around. There were people milling all around, loud music, activities, refreshment stands and different attractions. It
did
look like a carnival. All that was missing were the clowns. I just hoped that wasn't going to be us.

“Okay, gentlemen, and lady,” the ref said. “Red team won the coin toss so they get first ball.”

Ned looked confused.

“We're the blue team,” I said softly.

One team was called blue and the other red even though the three of us were in white and the other team had on gray shirts.

I had one eye on the other team for the entire warm-up. They were pretty good. All four could shoot and dribble. Two of them were the same size as Kia and me. The third was a little shorter and the fourth guy a lot shorter.

I'd also been watching them watching Ned. They huddled together and pointed. They really didn't know if he could play, but they did know that he
was more than a head taller than anybody else on the court.

“Before we start I'm going to give you a quick review. First team to sixteen baskets wins. Shots from behind the three-point line count for two baskets. First seven fouls you get the ball. Fouls eight through twelve you get a shot. Every foul after twelve you get a shot and the ball back. If the game hasn't been decided in thirty minutes, the team with the most points wins. Any change in possession of the ball from one team to the other and the ball must be taken out beyond the three-point line. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” one of the members of the other team said. “We want to see his identification.”

“There's no way he's our age,” piped in a second, pointing at Ned. The third nodded in agreement.

Debbie came onto the court. “Here's his birth certificate,” she said, handing it to the ref.

“He is awfully tall,” the ref said, studying the card.

“Takes after his father,” Debbie said.

“Looks good,” the ref said, handing back the card. “Let's play ball.”

The ref tossed the ball to their player. “Check it before starting.”

As agreed I went out on the player with the ball, Kia covered a second player and Ned took
the third.

“Check,” their man said as he bounced the ball to me.

I bounced it right back out and we were ready to start.

“Break!” he said and the two players crossed.

“Switch!” Kia yelled.

Kia's player burst free around Ned and was hit with a pass. He glided in and put up an easy shot for the first basket of the game.

“I called switch! Why didn't you switch?”

“I didn't know what you meant.”

“It means that we're supposed to switch men and —”

“Come on blue team this isn't the time for a lesson. Take the ball out,” the ref said.

“Remember to yell for the ball,” I said out of the side of my mouth as I walked past Ned.

I walked the ball to the top of the court and then checked it.

“Here! Here!” Ned yelled, holding an arm high above his head and the outstretched arm of the player trying to cover him. He was a tempting target.

I turned to look for Kia. She sprinted down, circled Ned and came back out to the top of the key. I tried to send her a pass and it deflected off the hand of the man covering me. Another one of their players grabbed the ball, dribbled out to
the three-point line and put up a shot. Straight into the net!

“That's game!” the ref called out as their shot dropped through the mesh.

We'd lost the game, sixteen to twelve. I hadn't really expected to win, but somehow I hadn't figured that we'd lose. Of course, that made no sense. I stumbled over and we awkwardly shook hands with the other players. Mark came onto the court to do the same. Even though he hadn't played — and wouldn't be playing the entire day — he was still on our team. Boy, I would have loved to have him out there. Two of his long shots would have won it for us.

“You did wonderfully!” Debbie said as she reached up and gave Ned a big hug. “You all did wonderfully!” she continued as she hugged all of us in turn.

“Better luck next game,” my father said quietly.

“You want a drink?”

“Sure,” I said.

We walked away from everybody else toward one of the refreshment stands.

“That wasn't a bad game,” he said.

“Not bad, but not good. Four more to go.”

“I thought there could be eight games today?”

I chuckled. “Five is all we're going to play.”