Read Online Basketball (or Something Like It) by Nora Raleigh Baskin - Free Book Online Page B

Bridge won 36–33. The boys were jumping all over one another. Everyone looked really happy. Except for Mrs. Binder. She didn’t say anything to Anabel. She didn’t even say her usual, “Oh, Anabel, you’ll be playing someday. And you’re going to knock ‘em all off their feet.”
    Anabel figured that even if she hadn’t heard what those dads were saying, she could
feel
it. It was ugly. Like toxic waste.
    Mrs. Binder made her way slowly down the bleachers. Anabel watched her as she waited for Jeremy. She tried to put her arm around him when they were walking out, but he wouldn’t let her.
    It was like she was trying to protect him from that feeling. But Mrs. Binder had no idea what she was up against. She just had no idea.
    But Anabel did.
Nathan
    N athan’s father was excited to hear about the win. So perhaps, Nathan thought later, he had talked it up
too
much.
    The new coach, Quince or Vince or whatever, told everyone at halftime that the team needed a win this time. He said the play was going to be to Jeremy. He told Julian and Matt where to stand to set picks and keep the lane open. He told Camden to keep getting those offensive rebounds. He told Hank to keep pressing their point guard. It was working great. And he told Jeremy to keep shooting. He was hot.
    When you’re hot, shoot, he told Jeremy.
    Winning was good, Nathan thought. Even though he barely got off the bench the whole time, it was better than losing. It felt good. Satisfying.
    No, it was fantastic.
    And it made a much better story. Nathan’s mother had made roast turkey breast with gravy, string beans, and sweet potatoes. It all felt very festive.
    “I think I might like to come to your next game,” his father said. “Against Hollis. Is that right? It’s an away game, isn’t it?”
    “Huh?” Nathan stopped his fork midway to his mouth.
    “I want to try out our new digital camera,” hisfather added. “It’s got a telephoto lens, you know.”
    “I’ll come, too,” his mother said. She was smiling, but she had it all wrong, Nathan thought. He knew she was feeling guilty about the new baby taking up so much of her time. And true, Nathan hadn’t done much to convince her otherwise.
    “No, that’s okay, Mom,” Nathan said. “I know how tired you are.”
    He wasn’t going to be able to reverse the damage now. He had made it all sound so great. He had gotten carried away.
    “Of course I’m not too tired,” she said. “I want to see my son play.”
    Didn’t they say there was an amino acid in turkey that made people relax and feel good? Tryptophan, that was it. Only Nathan wasn’t feeling too good right then.
    “Maybe we won’t win again,” Nathan tried. “Maybe never again.”
    “So what?” his father said. He pushed his seat back from the table. He was actually smiling. It was definitely the tryptophan. It produced serotonin, which affected the part of the brain involved in relaxation.
    “But I might not play much this time,” Nathan went on. “I mean, since I played so much last game. You know, it’s got to be fair and all.”
    “I think the coach will play the best players. You’renot babies. You’re in sixth grade. In three years you’ll be in high school. At some point you play to win,” his father was saying. “The better players play more. You kids have to learn that sometime.”
    Nathan wondered what planet his father had been living on.
    “At least athletics is the one place where fair is fair. Where the better man gets the job,” Nathan’s father went on.
    He had spent so much of his life working hard. He had three graduate degrees that Nathan knew of. His father had so left behind the world he had come from, but he hadn’t quite landed in this one. Sports wasn’t fair at all. Fathers favored their own kids. Coaches had one agenda. Parents had another. Some kids made the team even when there were other kids who were clearly better. Some parents did favors for the coach; others just complained really