The Basket Counts Page 5
But then it happened. Mel’s man caught a high pass, turned quickly, and bumped into Mel. Phreeet! went the referee’s whistle, and up went a finger. Mel’s shoulders collapsed. The Beetle strode to the free-throw line, accepted the ball from the ref, bounced it twice, then shot. In. 47–41.
Mel glanced at Caskie, expecting an icy stare. But Caskie wasn’t looking at him. Caskie was running toward the corner, his attention on Stoney who was taking out the ball. A Beetle kept jumping in front of Stoney, arms waving up and down like wings to stop Stoney’s pass in. Stoney bounced the ball under his right arm to Caskie and Caskie dribbled it upcourt.
Two men stopped him and Caskie passed. The ball was a perfect throw to Mel as Mel ran across the keyhole toward the basket. He caught it and, without changing his speed, went up with the ball. A basket!
The crowd exploded with a yell.
The Titans’ close press kept the Beetles from advancing too near the basket. And the Beetles didn’t dare to take a long shot for fear of missing and losing the ball to the Titans.
The Beetles kept throwing short passes and dribbling. Now and then the Beetle in possession of the ball would glance at the clock, and Mel knew he was just waiting for the seconds to tick by. The less time there was for the Titans to dump in baskets, the better. Mel knew it was up to the Titans to get the ball as often as they possibly could.
Then, suddenly, a Beetle drove in under the basket and shot. The ball struck the hoop, bounded off, and a field of hands went up for the rebound. Mel grabbed it, pulled it out of a Beetle’s hands, and passed to Kim who dribbled the ball upcourt. Now it was the Beetles who put a tight press on the Titans. Kim tried to bouncepass the ball to Pedro Dorigez, but the ball struck his guard’s knee and glanced off toward the keyhole. Mel scooped it up, leaped to shoot, and saw Caskie running in from the corner. He passed to Caskie and Caskie laid it up neatly against the boards. A basket!
Caskie smiled at Mel as they ran back to cover their men. The Titans continued to play well defensively, but were unable to score enough to overtake the Beetles. The score was 49–46 when the game ended.
15
In the locker room, just before the Titans-Polaras game, Coach Thorpe said, “Let’s win this game, boys. It’s our last and it will give us a good year —the most wins in the league. But win or lose we have a treat in store for us. A spaghetti dinner at Mama Torelli’s! How about that?”
“All right!” the boys shouted.
“Do I love spaghetti!” Mel cried:
“With lots of sauce!” said Caskie, rubbing his stomach.
Five minutes after the game had begun the Titans realized that the Polaras were no pushover. They had lost only four games during the entire season and apparently they were in no mood to drop another.
Once in the first quarter Mel fouled a Polara and committed another foul in the second. Both times the Polara player scored his shot. Mel almost expected Stoney or Caskie to explode with some remark to him, but neither did. Matter of fact, he could hardly remember the last time when either one had yelled a nasty remark at him.
He passed to Caskie a couple of times when he was close enough to the basket to shoot at it himself, but both times Caskie was in a better position to shoot and both times he hit. They were playing well together.
When did Caskie really change his feelings toward me? wondered Mel. He realized then that Caskie hadn’t changed all at once, but a little at a time. It had happened so gradually that Mel had hardly noticed the change. And, apparently, neither had Caskie. But now, thinking back, Mel noticed the change all right.
At the half the Polaras led, 31–25.
“Let’s get them this second half,” urged Caskie, plunking himself down beside Mel in the locker room.
Darryl looked at them and a broad smile came over his face. “You guys don’t think you’re going to do it alone, do you? The rest of us are going to do it, too.”
In the third quarter Mel took advantage of every situation that came up, shooting when he had a good opportunity, passing when he didn’t.
He sank three baskets and a foul shot for seven points. Caskie sank four. Stoney and Darryl scored six points between them. But the Polaras scored eight baskets, sixteen points, to put them in the lead by one point at the end of the third period, 47–46.
The Polaras struggled hard to keep their lead in the fourth and final period. Darryl Brady sent the fans into hysterics when he jumped as high as he could and hooked a shot that circled the rim twice before it dropped through the laces. Skeet sank a twenty-footer, then dropped in two successive foul shots that put the Titans ahead of the Polaras, who had sunk only two baskets so far.
With a minute to go the Polaras, fighting hard, scored a long one that put them ahead, 53-52. The Titan cheerleaders started a loud, armswinging cheer:
One! Two! Three! Four!
Who are we for?
Titans! TITANS! TITANS!
Thirty seconds to go. Mel took a shot from the corner. It missed! Skeet went up for the rebound, and came down with both his hands and a Polara’s hanging desperately onto the ball.
“Jump!” yelled the ref.
Skeet tapped the ball. Caskie got it, dribbled back, passed to Mel in the corner. Mel took a set. In! 54–53!
The Polaras took out the ball. Herb Jones fumbled it and Caskie recovered it. Mel glanced at the clock. Fifteen seconds to go!
“Let’s hang on to the ball, Caskie!” Mel shouted.
Caskie grinned and tossed the ball back to him. Mel passed to Stoney, Stoney to Skeet, Skeet to Darryl as the Polaras jumped back and forth, trying hard to grab the ball.
They couldn’t. The horn buzzed, long and loudly. The game was over. The Titans had won, 54–53.
The boys jumped up and down and flung their arms around each other. Their cheers were almost drowned out by the yelling from the Titan fans.
“Can you believe it!” cried Mel.
“We said we’d do it, didn’t we?” said Caskie, sweat glistening on his smiling face.
“Sure did!” chuckled Darryl.
They ran to the Polara players and shook hands. The poor Polaras sure looked unhappy over their defeat. Then the Titans returned to the middle of the floor where Coach Thorpe greeted them with a handshake for each one.
“Nice going, boys. Ready for that spaghetti dinner?”
“And how!” said Mel. “I’m starved!”
“So am I!” said Caskie, strolling off the floor with Mel and Stoney. “Let’s get showered and go!”
Matt Christopher®
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THE BASKET COUNTS
On-court hostility threatens Mel’s place on the team
Mel Jensen is new to the Titans basketball team, but he knows he could be a vital part of the starting lineup—if only two other players would give him a chance to show his stuff. But Caskie and Stoney seem bent on ignoring him, and Mel knows it’s because he’s black. Should Mel fight fire with fire, or should he try to get along, if only for the sake of the team?
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* Previously published as Crackerjack Halfback
** Previously published as Pressure Play
*** Previously published as Baseball Pals