Rivals by Tommy Greenwald (the speed reading book txt) 📗

rebound, stripped by Clay Elkind from North, who passes to another guy from North—fans, I apologize for not knowing the names of some of these players, I don’t have rosters in front of me . . .

. . . We’re midway through the first half ladies and gentlemen, and may I just say that I’m very glad to be watching basketball the way it’s supposed to be played–hard, fair, and fun. I can tell you that the game is pretty even, but I don’t know the score, because there’s no scoreboard. Ooh! Amir just blocked a shot by someone on North, and the ball goes flying, but he definitely got some of the kid’s arm as well. Amir is saying something to the kid . . . I believe he just called a foul on himself. The North player goes to the line for two foul shots . . .

AUSTIN

I go into the game after about ten minutes. The score is 12–8, them. Jerrod and Jake come in with me, Charlie, Eric, and Topher come out, Kevin and Clay stay in. It’s our best lineup. South makes a couple of changes, too, but Carter stays in. We match up against each other. He takes the ball upcourt and I hand-check him, just like Coach Cash taught me. He makes a move between his legs and then crosses over in one fluid motion. I stumble a little bit but recover. He dumps the ball into a big guy who just checked into the game. I go over to help out, but the guy spins the ball over his shoulder back to Carter, who is cutting baseline. I’d taken my eyes off him for one second and it cost me. Carter makes the easy layup. I’m mad at myself but I know it was a great play, so I do something that surprises Carter. Something I would definitely never do in a league game. I hold my hand up in front of Carter. It takes him a second to realize what I’m doing. And then he gets it.

We high-five.

CARTER

Austin posts me up. I think he’s going to the hoop, but instead he goes up for a midrange turnaround. I try to block it, but I get about two inches off the ground. I’m tired and my legs are rubbery, but there’s no way Amir is going to tell me to come out. So I yell over, “Sham, grab me! Need a blow!” Sham’s eyes go wide. He’s not the best player. Coach Benny never would have pulled me for him. But I don’t care. I mean, it’s just a game, right? A game I really want to win, don’t get me wrong, but still, just a game.

Sham runs onto the court and starts trash-talking right away. It’s the best part of his game, because he can really run his mouth. Usually the refs tell him to can it, but there are no refs today, so he’s going off.

He lights into this one kid on North, rattling off one dis after another.

“Man, is that all you got?”

“My grandma got more hops than you, and she’s in a wheelchair.”

“What kind of shot is that, son—you trying to kill the backboard?”

The kid doesn’t exactly react the way Sham wants him to, though. He’s not getting mad. More like the opposite—he’s howling with laughter at everything Sham says. So Sham ends up being the one who gets mad.

And p.s., he doesn’t exactly have the greatest hops in the world either.

I ask someone how much time is left, and what the score is. Three minutes left in the half, and it’s 22–19, us.

I’m thinking about putting myself back in. Coach Benny would have, for sure. But I decide not to. The clock winds down, under two minutes. Austin goes up for a three and hits it. Took him a while to get going, but it looks like he’s got his stroke working. 22 all. Ten seconds left. Lucas tries a last-second shot from the corner but it goes in and out.

Halftime.

ALFIE:

Well, that halftime pizza was certainly a nice surprise! Apparently it was donated by Austin Chambers’ family, and it was a big hit with the players, who are normally not advised to eat pizza at halftime of a basketball game. I was able to ask Austin about it, and apparently he called his mom just before the game started and asked her if he could order pizza to be delivered to the park. He assumed she would try to talk him into having power bars or celery sticks, but instead she said sure, why not? He was shocked. And so was everyone else when the pizza showed up! Now, we’re just about set for an exciting second half, although we have to see if the players show any ill effects from gorging themselves on cheese and dough . . .

CARTER

For the last five minutes of the game, we both have our best lineups in. Austin drops two treys in a row. I dish to Eddy for an easy bucket. On the defensive end, Lucas blocks a shot, but Clay grabs the loose ball and spins one in off the glass.

“TIED AT FORTY-EIGHT!” a kid yells. “ONE MINUTE LEFT!”

Suddenly things feel a little tense—no more high fives with the opponents, that’s for sure. We bring it down, I have an open three but pass up the shot, flip the ball inside to Eddy, he misses a gimme. The rebound gets knocked around by Amir and Kevin, and eventually the ball goes out of bounds.

Kevin goes, “Our ball.”

Amir shakes his head. “Nah, man, off your leg.”

“I didn’t touch it,” says Kevin.

“I saw it, dude,” insists Amir. “Definitely caught you behind the knee.”

Austin goes over. “Hold up guys, it’s all good.”

But it’s not all good. As the rest of us gather around, Amir and Kevin keep arguing about whose ball it is, and then Kevin says something like “Fine, whatever,” and he grabs the ball and throws it down the court.

“What was that, man?” Amir says, raising