Hoops of Steel by John Foley

Author:John Foley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: teen angst, alcoholic father, violence, flux, family drama
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2007-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

Remember that basketball is a game of habits. If you make the other guy deviate from his habits, you’ve got him.

—Bill Russell, The Book of Basketball Wisdom

Our game against St. Joe’s starts typically, with the Junior Jagoffs shooting well but not playing much defense, and the result is a five-point lead for the visiting Catholics. St. Joe’s has a big man named Leonard who is scoring at will.

Then Chipper Michaels goes down. I can tell by the way he rolled over his ankle it’s a bad sprain. A moment later everyone in the gym knows as much because Michaels is not showing a lot of toughness. He’s grimacing and beating the floor and crying. His buddies help carry him to the locker room, and I try to look sympathetic.

“Report in, O’Connell,” Coach Moran yells, and I strip off my warm-ups and run to the scorer’s table. “O’Connell for Michaels,” I say, and return to the bench area.

We huddle a minute later, and I nod along with Coach Moran’s instructions. Then I almost blow my chance when he says, “Okay guys, let’s win this one for the Chipper.” My mouth is quivering and about to explode, when Stoner’s laugh triggers a general laugh and I’m saved from eternal pinehood.

Coach stares at us, pissed. “Don’t see what’s so funny about wanting to win a game for your injured teammate,” he snaps. “You guys are a bunch of losers.” He fumes for a little longer, then looks at me. “O’Connell, Leonard is killing us. You’ve got to stick some defense on him.”

“I will, Coach, “ I say, trying to summon the courage to say more. Why not? “Uh, Coach Moran?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I was thinking a box and one might work against Leonard.”

“With you as the one?”

“Yes, sir. I think I can cover him pretty well, especially with some help on the weak-side.”

He mulls it over. If I had been one smidgen less polite, he would have rejected the suggestion out of hand. But what I pitch makes too much sense.

“We’re on the same wavelength today, O’Connell,” he says. “Except I was thinking a diamond and one myself. Got that? Diamond and one, with O’Connell on Leonard. Everybody get in here. Let’s get ’em!”

As we walk onto the court, Stoner strides up alongside me. “Should have said diamond and one, Jackson, then he would have changed it to a box and one, and I wouldn’t have to run my ass off up top.”

“Sorry, Stoner. I forgot to figure Coach’s ego into the equation.”

Stoner is almost intense for this game. He went to St. Joe’s his freshman year, but was expelled for drug use. All the St. Joe’s guys know him, and he thinks, probably correctly, that they look down on him. So he naturally wants to play well and spank them good.

A toot from the ref’s whistle and the St. Joe’s players jog onto the floor. Leonard eyes me like I’m a pile of horse crap he has to clean up. I saw him play a couple of times last year.

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