Slump by Kevin Waltman

Author:Kevin Waltman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult Fiction
Publisher: Cinco Puntos Press
Published: 2014-09-17T16:00:00+00:00

At halftime, Coach paces back and forth while we sit and catch our breath. Murphy goes locker to locker, slapping people on the knee. “Way to get after it,” he keeps saying. “One more half of that.”

We damn near melted the scoreboard. It’s 41-40 Hamilton at the break, meaning we dropped more on the best team in the state in one half than we’ve been scoring on scrubs for a whole game. This is what we were built for. This is why I busted my ass all summer and why Moose burned that fat into muscle. Run. I’ve turned Charles around so many times I’m surprised he doesn’t have whiplash. When I get past him I’m just dealing—Devin spotting, Fuller and Stanford cutting, Moose getting to the rim. Hell, even Reynolds got in to drop a J. Run, I think. We can run all damn night.

“We can’t keep running with these guys,” Bolden says. He avoids looking at me as he says it. He doesn’t look at any players, really. He just stands in the center of the locker room, head bent down. “I know you don’t want to hear that, but we’re playing right into their hands.” He looks up then. Not at us, but at the ceiling, like now he’s calling down divine intervention. “I swear to God,” he says, “you guys are going to kill me.” And on that kill he looks at us, eyes bulging with anger. He doesn’t scream, but any fool can see he’s about to burst. “They’re the number one team in the state. Champs two years running. Undefeated. And we’re on their floor. Are you guys out of your minds? You think you can come in here and run them?”

Wearily, his shoulders slumped like a mourning man, he goes back to the board. He draws up our half-court sets one more time and pleads with us. “Slow it down and they’ll get frustrated,” he says. “But you’re not going to scare them with your speed.”

He’s right. Well, with any other point guard in the state, he’d be right. But we get first touch after the break. For a couple possessions I try to do what he says. That just gets us a travel on Stanford and a forced miss by Fuller. Bang bang on the other end and Hamilton’s up 5.

I dribble it up, and it’s like Coach can see me itching. “Take it easy now, Derrick,” he says as I cruise past him.

Instead I take it straight to the rim. I don’t even bother throwing a move on Charles, just pound it past him and attack. Lorbner slides over, but I just rise for another pull-up. Silk. Game on again.

The rock just gets ripped back and forth. On one end, Lorbner gets to work on Moose. A drive and a dish, a post-up for two, a rainbow from range, even a behind-the-back pass to a cutter for a deuce. But I’ve got the answer every time. It’s like seeing Lorbner light it up brings out the best in me.

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