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Authors: Matt Christopher
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point hadn’t set well with Freddie either.
Jerry shrugged. “Let’s wait and see,” he said.
Each Chariot took his turn shooting at the basket. When Jerry’s turn came, he ran in toward the basket, caught the tossfrom the man in the other line, jumped up and laid it in.
“Hey, man!” shouted Chuck Metz, the team’s forward and Freddie Pearse’s pal. “He made it!”
“Sure, but wait till the game starts,” said Freddie. “He’ll choke up.”
Jerry’s face turned cherry red as he tried to ignore the center’s sarcasm. Freddie was getting to be too much.
Game time came and the Chariots huddled around Coach Dick Stull, a tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair and long sideburns.
“The big thing on defense is to play your man,” he reminded them. “Keep between him and the ball and be careful not to foul.
Last Thursday the Pilots picked up eight points on us on fouls alone, solet’s cut that figure down. Jerry, you’re starting again. You didn’t score a single point in the first two games, so I’m
sure you’re ready to bust loose. Okay, let’s go.”
They broke out of the huddle and ran to their positions on the court, Ronnie and Chuck at forward, Freddie at center, Lin
Foo and Jerry at guard. Jumping center for the Foxfires was Eddie Reed, a tall, rangy kid with glasses. A chorus of yells
and whistles exploded from the fans in the bleachers.
The referee’s whistle shrilled, the ball went up, the centers jumped. Freddie tapped the ball to Chuck. Chuck caught it and
dribbled down the sideline. The Foxfire guarding him bolted in front of him, arms reaching for the ball, and Chuck passed
it to Ronnie. Ronnie turned, fakeda throw that fooled his guard, then shot. The ball sank through the hoop without touching the rim.
The Chariot fans went wild. Jerry, watching both his man and the Foxfire taking out the ball, kicked out his right foot as
he saw the bounce coming. The ball ricocheted up, he caught it, and bolted down the court. Seconds later his man was in front
of him, arms beating the air. Jerry passed to Chuck, then broke for the basket. During that moment while Jerry was in the
clear, Chuck passed him the ball and up he went with it.
The ball hit the boards, bounded against the rim — and off!
“Ohhhh, no!” groaned the Chariot fans.
“Jeepers, Jerry!” grumbled a voice Jerry recognized as Freddie Pearse’s. “You couldn’t make a shot if you were standingover the basket! What’s with you, anyway?”
I don’t know
, Jerry wanted to say.
I just don’t know
.
2
A FOXFIRE CAUGHT A REBOUND, passed to a teammate, who dribbled down the court, no one in front of him. No one for a while,
that is, for just as he crossed the center line Jerry reached him and stole the ball.
Jerry dribbled to the sideline, two Foxfires after him, and shot a pass to Ronnie. Ronnie moved the ball halfway down the
front court and was instantly double-teamed. He leaped and passed to Freddie who came to a dead stop near the foul line and
took a shot. The ball bouncedagainst the boards and into the net.
“Nice steal, Jerry!” yelled a fan, and Jerry recognized his father’s voice. He smiled warmly. His father and mother, his best
rooters, never missed a game if they could help it.
Again the Foxfires took out the ball. This time the pass to a teammate was good. He dribbled the ball down the court and passed
it to a man in a corner. The man shot and hit for two points.
Jerry took out the ball for the Chariots, bounce passing it to Ronnie who dribbled it upcourt. A Foxfire threatened to take
the ball from him and he passed to Freddie. The tall center was smothered instantly, the ball slipping out of his hands and
rolling free. Jerry and a Foxfire bolted after it. Jerry, reaching it first, grabbed it up, dribbled to a corner, saw no one
freeto pass to, and took a set. The ball hit the rim, bounded up high, came down and hit the rim again. Jerry rushed in for
point hadn’t set well with Freddie either.
Jerry shrugged. “Let’s wait and see,” he said.
Each Chariot took his turn shooting at the basket. When Jerry’s turn came, he ran in toward the basket, caught the tossfrom the man in the other line, jumped up and laid it in.
“Hey, man!” shouted Chuck Metz, the team’s forward and Freddie Pearse’s pal. “He made it!”
“Sure, but wait till the game starts,” said Freddie. “He’ll choke up.”
Jerry’s face turned cherry red as he tried to ignore the center’s sarcasm. Freddie was getting to be too much.
Game time came and the Chariots huddled around Coach Dick Stull, a tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair and long sideburns.
“The big thing on defense is to play your man,” he reminded them. “Keep between him and the ball and be careful not to foul.
Last Thursday the Pilots picked up eight points on us on fouls alone, solet’s cut that figure down. Jerry, you’re starting again. You didn’t score a single point in the first two games, so I’m
sure you’re ready to bust loose. Okay, let’s go.”
They broke out of the huddle and ran to their positions on the court, Ronnie and Chuck at forward, Freddie at center, Lin
Foo and Jerry at guard. Jumping center for the Foxfires was Eddie Reed, a tall, rangy kid with glasses. A chorus of yells
and whistles exploded from the fans in the bleachers.
The referee’s whistle shrilled, the ball went up, the centers jumped. Freddie tapped the ball to Chuck. Chuck caught it and
dribbled down the sideline. The Foxfire guarding him bolted in front of him, arms reaching for the ball, and Chuck passed
it to Ronnie. Ronnie turned, fakeda throw that fooled his guard, then shot. The ball sank through the hoop without touching the rim.
The Chariot fans went wild. Jerry, watching both his man and the Foxfire taking out the ball, kicked out his right foot as
he saw the bounce coming. The ball ricocheted up, he caught it, and bolted down the court. Seconds later his man was in front
of him, arms beating the air. Jerry passed to Chuck, then broke for the basket. During that moment while Jerry was in the
clear, Chuck passed him the ball and up he went with it.
The ball hit the boards, bounded against the rim — and off!
“Ohhhh, no!” groaned the Chariot fans.
“Jeepers, Jerry!” grumbled a voice Jerry recognized as Freddie Pearse’s. “You couldn’t make a shot if you were standingover the basket! What’s with you, anyway?”
I don’t know
, Jerry wanted to say.
I just don’t know
.
2
A FOXFIRE CAUGHT A REBOUND, passed to a teammate, who dribbled down the court, no one in front of him. No one for a while,
that is, for just as he crossed the center line Jerry reached him and stole the ball.
Jerry dribbled to the sideline, two Foxfires after him, and shot a pass to Ronnie. Ronnie moved the ball halfway down the
front court and was instantly double-teamed. He leaped and passed to Freddie who came to a dead stop near the foul line and
took a shot. The ball bouncedagainst the boards and into the net.
“Nice steal, Jerry!” yelled a fan, and Jerry recognized his father’s voice. He smiled warmly. His father and mother, his best
rooters, never missed a game if they could help it.
Again the Foxfires took out the ball. This time the pass to a teammate was good. He dribbled the ball down the court and passed
it to a man in a corner. The man shot and hit for two points.
Jerry took out the ball for the Chariots, bounce passing it to Ronnie who dribbled it upcourt. A Foxfire threatened to take
the ball from him and he passed to Freddie. The tall center was smothered instantly, the ball slipping out of his hands and
rolling free. Jerry and a Foxfire bolted after it. Jerry, reaching it first, grabbed it up, dribbled to a corner, saw no one
freeto pass to, and took a set. The ball hit the rim, bounded up high, came down and hit the rim again. Jerry rushed in for
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