Fred Bowen - Full Court Fever

M ichael Mancino could hear the game as he approached the park next to the school. He heard the ball pounding the pavement and sneakers scraping against the blacktop. He heard voices rising into the sunlit winter sky and the distant clanging of a loose metal rim.

After Michael turned the corner of the tan brick school building, he stood for a moment with his basketball on his hip and studied the court in front of him.

He saw Kelvin Wells, Conor Kilgore, and Charlie Rosenthal, three of his teammates from the Falcons seventh-grade basketball team, shooting baskets. Their breath and voices sent small puffs of white mist into the chilled December air.

Suddenly the ball bounced wildly off the court. Charlie jogged after it, looked up, and saw Michael standing at the side of the school.

Hey, Michaels here! he shouted. Now weve got enough for a game of two-on-two.

Michael trotted onto the court, took a few quick dribbles with his basketball, and attempted a long shot. Air ball.

How about Michael and me against you two? Conor suggested, ignoring Michaels shot.

Kelvin and Charlie eyed each other in silence. I dont know, Kelvin said slowly.

Come on, Conor said, sounding annoyed. Were all about the same size. Lets just play.

Hey, let me have a couple of shots, will ya? Michael said, grabbing the boys basketball and dribbling around the court. You guys are all warmed up.

But Conor was ready to play. Well, hurry up, he said impatiently.

Game to seven. Well switch teams after each game, Kelvin said.

All right, Conor agreed.

Ill shoot to see who gets the ball first, said Kelvin, placing his feet at the foul line. He bounced the ball three times and eyed the rim.

Hey, can we play? a voice sounded from the other end of the court. The four friends turned and squinted into the setting sun. There, standing like a tall picket fence, were four eighth graders: Jake McClure, James Becker, Jerome Dobson, and Johnny Palotta. The four boys walked closer, their long shadows stretching black across the court.

Uh-oh, Charlie whispered to Michael. Its The Four Js: Jake, James

Jerome and Johnny, Michael chimed in, finishing the lineup.

Were just starting a game, Kelvin said to the newcomers, and he turned to look back at the basket.

Come on, lets play four-on-four, James Becker said, dribbling closer to Kelvin and his teammates.

The seventh-grade Falcons looked at each other, agreeing in silence.

Okay, what are the teams? Conor asked.

Us four against you four, James said with a wide smile.

No way! Michael blurted out. You guys are all eighth graders.

Yeah, Kelvin agreed. Youre all older and taller than we are. Youll kill us.

Come on, you guys are just a year behind us, Jerome Dobson said, flipping an easy jump shot at the basket.

All right, Michael said. The four eighth graders against the four seventh graders. But Kelvin shoots to see who gets the ball first.

Kelvin set his feet once again across the foul line. He bounced the ball three times and took a deep breath, then dipped his legs slightly and sent the ball spinning toward the basket. Swish. Nothing but net.

Jake McClure grabbed the bouncing ball and tossed it to Michael. Your ball, he said. Game to eleven by ones. Im covering Michael.

The boys darted into action. Michael snapped a quick pass to Kelvin, who passed to Conor for the shot. Swish.

10, Michael said happily. Winners out, right? If a team scores a basket they keep the ball, right?

Winners out, Jake agreed.

Michael passed to Charlie in the corner. Charlie faked a shot, then dribbled underneath the basket and spun a shot against the backboard and through the net.

All right. 20!

My man, Charlie!

Then Kelvin made a long jump shot and the score was 30. Are we playing 70 is a shutout? Kelvin asked with a grin.

Jerome Dobson bounced Kelvin the ball. Youre a long way from a shutout, wise guy. Just play ball.

Kelvins next jumper bounced off the rim, and James Becker got the rebound. Lets go to work, he cried.

The older boys did just that. Using crisp passes and their greater height, the eighth graders worked the ball close to the basket for easy scores. In no time, the younger Falcons lead had vanished and the eighth graders were ahead.

Whats the count? Michael asked, catching his breath.

63, us, Johnny Palotta replied.

Come on, lets get some rebounds, Conor pleaded.

Michael darted out and intercepted the ball, whirled quickly, and flipped a pass to Charlie. Charlie swished a short jumper. 64.

But that was the last basket Michael and his friends could score. The eighth graders scored five straight baskets. James Becker muscled up over Charlie, sending Charlies glasses flying as he scored the final basket.

Game, James said as the ball fell through the net. Do you guys want to play another?

No, thanks, Charlie said, leaning over to pick up his glasses.