Read Online Pull by Kevin Waltman - Free Book Online Page A

a trey. The kid’s shot is butter when he gets a look like that.
    Bolden tells Reynolds to switch onto Upchurch, but that’s only a little bit better. Reynolds had a brief go at Upchurch last year, so he knows what he’s in for—but that doesn’t mean he can stop it. Upchurch has to work harder. He rubs off screen after screen, then has to shake Reynolds with a nasty crossover—but in the end, Reynolds is still beat. Upchurch buries another trey. The lead we’ve spent all game building is suddenly down to three.
    â€œDon’t get too comfortable there,” Bolden growls at me. “Next dead ball you’re back in.”
    That’s what I want to hear. I know he’s just trying to keep my legs fresh, but truth is I want to go all 32 minutes every time out. The only time I want to rest is when we’ve got the game iced.
    On our end, Fuller goes flying baseline and gets bailed out with a reach. The whistle’s my cue. As soon as I stand, there’s a ripple of applause in our crowd. People know what’s up. When I jog onto the court, I point at Rider and he hangs his head in dejection. And Upchurch just smiles and claps. I know what he’s thinking—he’s loose now. He feels like he can keep it rolling, even against me.
    Before the game, I eyed all the scouts checking us. Purdue, Michigan State, Louisville, Cincinnati. I know what they’re thinking too—showdown in crunch-time between two big-time guards. And, yeah, Upchurch is a senior so it’s not like an offer to him means they’ll miss a shot at me, but everyone’s always trying to figure out the pecking order. Time to prove to them whose name should be on top.
    We run an in-bounds play for Stanford, but he doesn’t come free so Fuller lobs it way out top to me. And wouldn’t you know it—Warren Central’s coach has Upchurch switch onto me. Showdown time for real. I know better than to just force it. We run offense. A kick to Reynolds on the wing. A look to Jones in the post. Then a reversal through Fuller out top. Back to me on the left wing. I power past Upchurch, but their bigs jump to the action quick. There’s a look at a tough pull-up, but we can do better. Back out to Reynolds on top again. I glide on through the paint, getting a rub off of Stanford. It’s just enough to get Upchurch trailing by a step. Reynolds hits me right on time on the opposite wing. Just the slightest pump fake gets Upchurch leaning—and I’m gone. I knife into the paint, getting deep into the teeth of the defense beforethey pick me up. Their center rises to challenge my look. Quick as a whip, I duck under him and feed Stanford. Easy deuce.
    Our crowd jumps back into full throat. Stanford pounds his chest and points in my direction—the points are his, but he knows who made that bucket happen. No time to celebrate though. I clap my hands and holler at my boys. “Stop now! Let’s get a stop!”
    Even as I yell, Warren Central’s pushing for Upchurch. I find him on the wing. When he catches, I challenge with my hand but keep my feet balanced. He’s smart too. Doesn’t force. They run offense instead, which means I get pinballed off screen after screen. I keep contact, helped by my teammates hedging into passing lanes.
    Finally I get a face full of shoulder from their center. Probably a moving screen, but not a call you get down the stretch. It gives Upchurch room on the right baseline, a place he likes to work. I close fast, and he passes on a catch-and-shoot. Maybe that swat from early in the game is still on his mind. Instead, he tries driving baseline. When I cut him off, he backs out to the wing to solo me up—and makes one bad mistake. He turns his back. Maybe he’s trying to set me up, but it gives me a clean look at the orange. Just a tap is all it takes. The rock ricochets off his knee and bounces toward open court. Their other guard dives