Chapter
Twenty Four
Mark Miller, September 2016
“You read
it, right? Please tell me you read it.” Ian walked forward, waving a piece of
paper excitedly through the air.
“Read
what?” Mark replied, approaching the door for their biology classroom. “Did we
have Bio homework?”
“Shoot, I
hope not,” Ian stopped dead in his tracks. Then, shaking from his momentary revere,
“But seriously, you have to read this.” He shoved the paper into Mark’s hands as
together they entered the classroom, taking their seats next to their friend
and teammate Todd Battle.
“Todd, did
we have Bio homework?” Mark said, as, to Ian’s frustration, he continued to
ignore the paper that had been thrust in his face.
“Dude!
C’mon! Trust me, homework is not more important than this.” He paused for a
second as Mark and Todd stared at him. “But seriously, Todd, do we have any
homework?”
“Nothing
besides picking lab groups,” Todd replied simply.
“Oh …” Ian
looked down guiltily, “Right …” Again, Mark and Todd stared at him in awkward
silence. “Can you guys just read it?”
“Admittedly,
I’m pretty curious,” Mark said, unfurling the paper from his grip and laying it
out on the table. “It’s called: ‘Why Rebuild When You Can Reload’.” He cleared
his throat carefully and read aloud:
When I
first reached Coatesville High School’s Cross Country practice, I needed to
double check back over my shoulder at the name painted on the front of the
stadium. The facilities looked more like a collegiate program than a public
school in Pennsylvania. Heck, I went to a Division I University to run and
Coatesville’s XC accommodations made ours look like a dumpster fire.
“Who is
this guy, Ian?”
“I don’t
know. It’s on some track blog I heard about. A guy who used to post on
VaniaRunning does it I think.”
Mark
returned to the article.
Of course,
they had the classics: weight room, training staff, and ice pools. But they
also had the stuff professionals use: massage therapists, an underwater
treadmill, and even an oxygen tent!
“An oxygen
tent?!” Todd exclaimed, “What kind of high school team needs an oxygen tent?”
You see,
Phil Solinsky, the founder of the rapidly growing Ares
Inc., is a Coatesville alumn and has generously given back to the place that
helped develop his love of distance running. A love that manifested itself in a
multi-million-dollar shoe company. The extra training accessories have inspired
Coatesville’s athletes to push themselves farther than many thought possible.
“Over the
summer, we usually all get together and try and plan a trip at altitude,” says
team captain Kyle King, who has already committed to attend Princeton next
fall. “It’s always an amazing experience.”
I bet it
is.
However,
the Coatesville program is not built on fancy toys or extravagant trips. You
don’t become one of the top cross country schools in the nation just by
throwing money at your athletes and yelling “go”.
“Astaire!”
The sound of their biology teacher Mrs. Galligan’s voice rang out, cutting
Mark’s story-telling momentum.
“We can
finish this up at lunch,” Mark said handing the paper to Ian and taking out his
notebook. Disappointedly, Ian accepted the article and pocketed it.
“I promise,
it’s good. The ending’s the best part.”
After Mrs.
Galligan took attendance, she lectured briefly on cell biology. Then she turned
her attention to officially recording the class’s lab groups.
“Now as we
discussed at the end of last week, I wanted you to try and find your lab
partners over the weekend so that we could minimize the interruption to class
time. However, I understand that not all of you might have been able to
finalize this. So those who have a group of three already, please come up to
the front of the class to see me so I can write down your teams. The rest of
you, please convene and divide yourselves to fit in any outstanding parties.”
Slowly, Ian
got up and walked away from his friends while Todd and Mark looked around the
room to find any solitary classmates. From the looks of things, three groups
had already been determined, leaving six leftovers. As the predetermined groups
made their way to the front, Mark realized that those leftover six, including
himself and Todd, were made up of three pairs of two friends. One of the
couples would have to split.
“Uh oh,”
Todd said looking at Mark apprehensively.
“So what
should we do?” Kenny remarked, noticing the problem as well. “I assume no one
is going to want to split.” Mark looked around the room and found a small black
and white die that the class had used earlier in the month for their lesson on
probability. He snatched it up and walked forward.
“How about
we roll this die?” he said, now finding himself awkwardly standing in the
middle of the three pairs. “We can give each of us a number and, if your number
comes up, your team has to split. Sound fair?” There was a general murmur of
tacit agreement. “Alright, then Todd and I will take numbers 1 and 2.”
“Ok, so we
will take 3 and 4,” Kenny replied tentatively, “which leaves you two,” he pointed
at the final pair, “with 5 and 6.”
“Alright,
great. Should I roll?” When no one objected, he tossed the die casually into
the air above his desk. It danced briefly on the surface below before coming to
rest with six dots on its top face. Mark could hear Todd exhale a sigh of
relief. Conversely, the pair in the far corner looked at one another
disappointedly, forced to try and determine how to split themselves. Mark
stared at the two for a second trying to read their lips, but then, realizing
he was encroaching on a private moment, he looked hurriedly away.
At the
front of the class, Ian had made his way to Mrs. Galligan’s desk with his unlikely
predetermined lab partners, Jenna Fisk and Carrie Washington. She looked up at
him and waved him away with one hand, “It’s OK Ian, I already have you, Mark
and Todd written down in my book as a group.” she said, assuming that the three
friends would logically have formed a unit.
“Oh-er-”
Ian said awkwardly, “I’m actually with Jenna and Carrie.” He pointed half-heartedly
over his shoulder. Surprised, Mrs. Galligan looked up at the two girls who were
talking excitedly to one another, oblivious to the discussion in front of them.
“Ah, my
mistake,” his teacher responded with a small smile. “You know what happens when
you assume …”
“Dude, I’m
pretty sure Mrs. Galligan called you an ass earlier.” Mark said a half hour
later. The school bell had just rang and the students were packing up for
lunch.
“What are
you talking about?” Ian replied anxiously as they filed out of the classroom
with their peers.
“She said,
‘You know what happens when you assume’, remember?”
“So?”
“The rest
of that saying is ‘it makes an ass out of you and me’. It means you’re an ass.”
“That’s not
what she was trying to say.”
“What’s up
guys?” Tom said, meeting up with the trio in the hallway after his own biology
class had ended.
“Ian’s an
ass.” Mark said casually as Ian raised his arms in frustration.
“Well, yeah
of course,” Tom replied nonchalantly, “But I thought Ian said something about
having a cool story for us?”
“Oh yeah!”
Ian said excitedly, shouting slightly and scaring a pair of freshman walking
beside him. “Er-sorry-But yeah!” He pulled the folded up article from his
pocket and stuffed it into Mark’s hands. “Keep going!”
Miller
unfolded the paper, keeping his eyes up to make sure he didn’t trip over any
other students in front of him. “Alright where did we leave off? We did the
part about the altitude tent, right?” He leaned towards Todd so that his friend
could review the sheet.
“Yeah, we
definitely did the altitude tent … I think we got to here, ‘you can’t just
throw money at the problem …’”
“Ah, yep I
remember now.” They turned into the cafeteria and walked toward their usual
table. Sitting down, Mark smoothed out the paper on its surface before
preparing to read on.
However,
the Coatesville program is not built on fancy toys or extravagant trips. You
don’t become one of the top cross country schools in the nation just by
throwing money at your athletes and yelling “go”.
“We really
try and push the kids to do everything they can to reach their potential,” says
2nd year head coach Alberto Solares, “All of our guys get out over
the summer and put in the mileage it takes to finish the season properly in
November. When I got here, I made sure these kids knew they were going to have
to work hard. Guys like Kyle and Andre [Garnett] bought in and we’ve obviously
had a lot of success since. We’ve got the right culture here now.”
It’s a
culture that has taken time to cultivate properly. In both 2013 and 2014,
Coatesville won the district championship in cross country and was projected to
win the state title as well. But when they got to the critical Hershey hills,
they received a surprise.
At the 2013
race, Coatesville stormed out to an impressive early lead and finished with 3
runners inside the top 25 overall. However, the Philadelphia Catholic League’s
Monseigneur Bonner put on a pack running clinic with five runners in the top 50
to steal the title.
A year
later, with three of their top runners coming back, they once again put three
runners in the top 30. But this time, district rivals Hatboro Horsham snuck
ahead of them in the final standings by just two points.
“It
sucked,” says King, “the first year, it was rainy and sloppy and we had some
key falls so we were able to make excuses. But the next year … there’s no way
we should have lost.”
Apparently,
the Coatesville administration thought the same thing. After two straight
silver medal performances, Coatesville decided to fire their head coach and
bring in retired professional coach Alberto Solares. Solares has coached former
Olympians in the 5,000 and 10,000 meters, but was very intrigued by the
opportunity to coach such a dedicated up and coming program.
“I saw a
lot of potential with these kids,” says Solares, “The talent was always there,
but the ability to peak and handle the pressure was clearly lacking. I knew as
soon as I got on board we would win states that next season.”
And he was
dead on. The Coatesville boys absolutely throttled the state championship
landscape with 59 points. Their entire top five finished in the top 25 team
scorers and they had three athletes in the top 12 overall. The Raiders went on
to finish 3rd in the National Championships at the University of
Oregon.
“The
mediocre days are behind us,” says Coach Solares, “I could care less about
league or district crowns. Heck, last year the rest of Pennsylvania couldn’t
even give us a fair fight. This year, we will be focusing on winning a national
championship.”
“This guy
kinda sounds like a prick,” Tom said as the others laughed.
“Just wait
until the end,” Ian replied, echoing his earlier sentiments.
“We want to
win nationals this year. That’s definitely our goal,” says rising senior Andre
Garnett. “The guys look great in training and we have a lot of young and
exciting prospects that Coach is bringing into the fold.”
King,
Garnett and fellow Senior Dylan Verner are the three returners from last year’s
state championship team. Other schools, most notably 6th place
finishers Manheim Township-
“Hey!
Shout out to us!”
-return
nearly all of their varsity members and will, in theory, make Coatesville work
for a second straight gold. But the Raiders’ second year head coach is
confident he can continue to string hay into gold.
“People
don’t realize that we’re actually better than last year. I’ve had more time to
leave my imprint on this team and every month I can get with these guys pays
big dividends.
“We are going to be incredibly
deep.” Solares added, “We should have no trouble keeping state gold in house. I
look around at the other top programs and they are all in rebuilding mode. We
don’t have to rebuild here at Coatesville. We just reload.”
Mark stopped and put the paper down.
“Is that it?” Todd asked.
“Yeah …” Mark flipped over the paper
looking for more, “Ian I thought you said the ending was supposed to be the
best part?”
“It is! You missed it,” he grabbed
the paper from his friend’s hands and skimmed down the page. “It’s here right
at the end.” He smiled and read aloud.
Editor’s
Note: Coatesville lost their opening meet of the season to the aforementioned
Manheim Township 45 to 48. Coach Solares was unavailable for comment after the
race.
He looked
around the table grinning widely, looking at his friends, hoping they would
share in his glee. “Oh, c’mon! This is great! He was like ‘we are going to wipe
the floor with the state again!’ and ‘Manheim Township sucks!’ and then at the
end it’s like ‘Oh yeah, by the way, they lost to Manheim Township and the coach
looked real stupid.’” He stared at his friends, his smile beginning to fade.
They looked blankly back. Finally, Ian gave up, looking slightly crestfallen.
“So who did
you guys get in your lab group instead of Ian?” Tom asked, turning to face Mark
and Todd.
“We ended
up with Ryan Strauss.” Mark replied, dipping into his lunch for the first time.
“Oh really?
That’s a good pick. Ryan wasn’t with Pat O’Brien?”
“Nah, they
had to split up,” Todd answered, noticing Mark’s mouth was full. “We had three
groups of two that we needed to make into two groups of three.”
“So how did
you guys decide who had to split up?”
“We rolled
a die to decide it.”
“Seems
kinda risky doesn’t it? That’s how you end up with Kenny Jennings in your
group.”
“Eh, it
wasn’t as risky as you’d think.” Mark said slyly, leaning back slightly in his
seat. His friends looked at him in confusion. He waited patiently, allowing
them to dwell on what he could be implying.
“So … are
you gonna explain or …” Ian replied, looking slightly annoyed. Tom also
wrinkled his nose in thought. Mark continued to smile and look at ease.
“I’ll just
let you guys think on it. Not everyone can be as smart as-”
“You used a
weighted die!” Todd said, realization dawning on his face, “From our
probability unit last week. We had fair dice and weighted dice … and you picked
up one of the weighted ones. They were skewed towards the higher numbers, so
we’d be safe while the other groups had to sweat it out.”
“Yeah,”
Mark replied slightly disappointed that his mystery had been solved. “Man Todd,
I am real glad I didn’t lose you as a lab partner …”
***
“So did you
see the VaniaRunning team rankings that came out yesterday?” Mark stood,
bouncing a weathered, orange basketball on the driveway. He lined up a shot and
tossed the ball forward. It flew through the air and clanged off the rim,
ricocheting back towards a pair of trash cans. Running forward, Sam stepped in
its path, catching it just short of impact.
“Yeah,
kinda crazy.” He dribbled the ball twice before heaving a shot toward the hoop.
It bounced on the back of the rim before falling gently through the net. “We’re the #1 team in the state.” He
accented his statement with an over exaggerated shiver.
From under
the hoop, Ian gathered the ball and passed it back to Sam who was waiting
expectantly at the top of the driveway. “It’s so satisfying to have beaten
Coatesville,” he said as he watched Sam’s next shot fly gracefully into the net
once more. “They just sound like a bunch of stuck up, rich, jerks.” He bounced
the ball back to Sam again. “You read that article I sent you, right?”
“Everyone
did, Ian,” Sam replied shaking his head. He dribbled three steps to his left,
pump faked against an imaginary defender and then dropped another jumper
through the hoop. “I’m surprised you weren’t handing out autographed copies
after practice.” On his fourth attempt, the ball bounced off the front of the
rim and came straight back to him. He passed it lazily to Ian, who walked out
from under the basket.
“Is Jayson
coming over?” Ian said, firing his first shot toward the hoop. It bounced off
the backboard and dropped through the net.
“If he
does, I doubt he’s gonna want to play,” Mark said, taking his turn as the
rebounder.
“Why not?”
“He’s
worried about getting injured.” He grabbed Ian’s next shot, a miss, as it
soared straight over the side of the hoop.
“Do we have
anybody else who would be a good 4th?” Sam said, walking away from
the net into his garage. He picked up his phone from a small table and flipped
through his contacts.
“Probably
not,” Ian replied, corralling Mark’s next miss, “Besides you guys still owe us
a rematch.” He clanged a shot off the side of the rim and chased after the
rebound. Mark jumped up and pulled the shot down.
“Alright …
I’ll convince him to come play.” Sam put his phone to his ear and paced around
his garage. “Hey Jayson, what’s up?” He said after a moments pause. “We were
gonna play some 2 on 2, you should come over … Why not? …. You’ll be fine, can
you have a little fun for once? … Alright, but Ian just called you a-”
“C’mon man,
I did not say that!”
“Awesome,
see you soon.” He took the phone away from his head. “He’s on his way. Also, he
said he’s covering you, Ian.”
“Thanks,”
Ian replied sarcastically. He hoisted another jump shot from the corner of the
driveway. The ball bounced twice on the back part of the rim before falling off
to the side. “Dang it. My jump shot is not falling today.”
“Well it is
a day of the week that ends with the letter ‘Y’.” Sam said, grabbing the
rebound and dribbling out to the left corner. He carefully set his feet and
lined up for a jump shot. As he wound up into his shooting motion, Ian lunged
forward to try and block the shot, but he overcommitted to the fake. After Ian
had went by, Sam realigned himself for the shot and let it fly. It fell easily
through the cotton of the net. He held his hand steady in the air after the
release to mock Ian as Mark laughed.
“Hey, whose
side are you on, man?”
“I’m trying
to be on yours, but you’re making it kinda difficult for me.”
After a few
more cycles of shot taking, Jayson pulled up to the curb in front of the house.
He walked out of the car wearing a blue and white t-shirt with the number three
on the front, a pair of gym shorts and high black socks. He carried his keys on
a lanyard which he twirled lazily around his finger. As he approached, Sam
tossed him the basketball. From the grass beyond the driveway, he caught the
ball and twirled it in his hand.
“This is
for first ball.” Without breaking stride, he shot the basketball toward the
hoop. While it was in the air, Jayson headed straight for the garage to drop
off his keys. Meanwhile, his friends watched as the ball soared gracefully
through the air and into the hoop. Mark and Ian looked at each other
apprehensively, while Sam grinned maniacally. Jayson emerged from the garage
with his own sly smile. “You shouldn’t have said that Ian.”
“Oh, c’mon
you know Sam just made that up.”
“Yeah and
Jordan pushed off. But sometimes a different story is meant to be told.”
Mark rolled
his eyes, “Alright, Aristotle, check ball.” He bounced the basketball across to
his brother.
“Game to 15
or 21?” Jayson asked, accepting the pass.
“21.”
“Winners,
1s and 2s, call your own fouls, all that good stuff?”
“Yeah, the
usual.”
“Do you
have to pass in?”
“Uh … no I
guess not, although that usually doesn’t matt-” As Mark spoke, Jayson launched
a shot from behind the makeshift three-point arc in the Berkow’s driveway. It
soared through the air and dropped through the hoop.
“2-0.”
They
battled back and forth during the game. The seniors, Sam and Jayson, stormed
out to an early lead thanks to some strong shooting. However, the juniors
battled back. In the post, Ian was able to back down Jayson for a bucket. Then,
he and Mark executed a well-timed give and go to get Mark an easy basket on the
right side of the hoop. After a missed jump shot, Sam and Jayson tried to
answer by setting up a pick and roll, but Ian saw it coming and fought through
the pick and stole the ball. With possession back in their favor, Ian drove
hard to the basket and hoisted a close range attempt, but he shot it too hard.
It bounced off the backboard. Fortunately, Mark was in good rebounding position
and he used his height to reach up and tap the ball back into the net before
either of his opponents could get a hand to it.
The games
between these two pairs were always hotly contested. Jayson and Sam were better
shooters and had a bit more touch and finesse to their game. Mark and Ian had a
slight height advantage as they were both taller than Sam and they used a
hard-nosed, grind-it-out style to get tough baskets while maintaining a strong
defense.
Jayson and
Mark had grown up playing against one another as brothers, while Ian and Sam
had battled as neighbors. So, by now, each pair was very familiar with the
other’s strengths and weaknesses. And, more importantly, each pair really hated
want to lose to their rival. As the game progressed, the intensity surrounding
each point increased.
“9-6?”
Jayson said as he bounced the ball to Ian. With a small nod of agreement, Ian
bounced the ball back and readied himself in a defensive stance opposing the
tall blonde senior. Jayson dribbled hard to his left, pushing forward.
McPearson moved with him, sliding his feet quickly to the right to cut off the
drive. Then, playing off the momentum, Jayson crossed the ball back over his
body and pulled out of his charge. Ian was unable to stop as quickly, stuck
back on his heels, leaving Jayson open for a jump shot. He rose up and fired
the orange through the hoop.
“9-13.” A
few players later, Ian checked the ball to Jayson, down four points. He set up
at the top of the key and drifted left. As he moved, Mark ran up and set a screen,
opening room for Ian to drive.
“Switch!”
Jayson called as he tried to fight through the pick. Sam jumped away from Mark
and stood in Ian’s driving lane. Cut off, Ian passed the ball back to Mark who
was now being covered by his brother.
The switch
had disoriented the defense slightly, so Mark tried to work quickly. He drove
to his right, thinking he had a step advantage. As he got to the point where he
would take off for a lay-up, he could feel Jayson charging hard and preparing
to block his shot. So instead of going straight up, he turned into a spin move
and rose up in the opposite direction, creating space as Jayson overextended
himself the wrong way.
“Careful
there, old man,” Mark said slyly as he walked away from the hoop, preparing for
the next point. Jayson shook his head, but smiled.
“15-12.”
Sam dribbled to his left, but Mark defended him well. He dumped it off to
Jayson on the opposite side of the court. The oldest Miller pump faked and
tried to drive, but Ian was not fooled. Jayson continued to dribble, crossing
back and forth, looking for an opening. Mark watched carefully, prepared to
help on the drive if necessary. But while he drifted toward the ball, Sam cut
hard behind his back toward the basket. Jayson bounced the ball to him and Sam
scored an easy basket.
Mark swore
under his breath as his opponents celebrated the point. “My bad, Ian,” he said,
as they set up for the next point. He could feel the sweat accumulating on his
face. He dabbed at it with his already wet shirt.
“It’s
alright, man,” Ian replied, looking even more sweaty than Mark felt. “Hey, you
guys mind if I take my shirt off?” He grabbed at the end of his top and
prepared to pull.
“Please
don’t.” Sam said, looking disgusted.
“C’mon man,
don’t be that guy.” Jayson added sharing his teammate’s displeasure.
Ian looked
at Mark for support, but his friend shook his head. “I have no interest in
rubbing up on all that.” He waved in the general direction of Ian’s chest.
McPearson frowned slightly, but left his upper body covered as the game
continued.
“17-13.”
Sam said after a few more shots were exchanged. He moved right and passed to
Jayson who turned and tried to back down Ian with a few power dribbles. Ian
didn’t give much ground. Sam ran forward and set a pick on Ian, standing by his
right hip. Jayson dribbled quickly in that direction, getting a step to the
lane. Mark drifted off Sam and rose up just as Jayson did, getting his finger
tips on the shot attempt and blocking it out of bounds into the bushes
alongside the driveway.
The next
possession, Ian played tough defense on Jayson, who took a difficult fall-away
shot. It bounced off the back edge of the rim and Mark was able to jump up and
corral it. He took the ball and dribbled out to the top of the key. Ian ran
around behind him and Mark handed off the ball to him as he came, creating a
nature pick. Open, from behind the arc, Ian launched a deep jump shot. The ball
soared through the air, bounced of the back-board and sunk through the net.
“Money.”
Ian said confidently, holding his hand in the air to accent the shot.
“Lucky
shot,” Sam replied. “Bet you can’t do that twice.”
“Ian,” Mark
said sternly, “Play smart here.”
“15-17.”
Jayson bounced the ball to Ian to re-start play. Ian dribbled back and forth at
the top of the key. Mark stood with his back to the basket on the left side of
the hoop. Ian bounced the ball into his teammate, who took a pair of hard
dribbles and faced up for a jump shot over the smaller defender. Jayson drifted
down, looking for the block and a bit of revenge. Seeing this, Ian dashed to
the corner, still behind the driveway’s three-point arc. Mark skipped the ball
to his open teammate who rose up and fired another deep jumper. At a seemingly
impossible angle, the ball skimmed off the side of the backboard and careened
straight into the hoop once again.
“You’ve
gotta be kidding me,” Sam said, staring at the hoop in disbelief. Even Mark had
to shake his head in amazement.
Ian smiled
mischievously and walked back to the top of the key for the next possession.
Emboldened by his two made shots, he took the ball and dribbled wildly, trying
to find some open space. After dribbling to his right, he crossed back to his
left and let the ball fly with a quick release to avoid Jayson’s outstretched
arm. The ball flew high in the air, higher than either of his previous
attempts, and it bounced off the very top of the back board before traveling over
the back of the hoop and out of bounds. Sam and Jayson laughed while Mark
stared indignantly at his teammate.
“What?” Ian
replied sheepishly, “It was a heat check!”
With the
score now tied at 17, both teams were just 4 points away from victory. Each
side was feeling the pressure as the misses began to pile up. Eventually, Ian
managed to hit a hook shot underneath the hoop over Jayson’s outstretched
hands, giving his team a brief lead. However, the seniors rallied a quick
response, as Sam made back to back mid-range jump shots. Determined to respond,
the juniors stepped up their defense. Mark got a steal off a bad pass from his
brother and he was able to take advantage of the turnover, passing to Ian for a
layup.
Play was
getting increasingly physical as both sides became more desperate. As Jayson
went up for a close range shot, Ian accidentally swatted him on the arm, trying
to go for the block. A few possessions later, Mark elbowed Sam in the head,
going for a well contested rebound. Each battle in the low post featured
pushing and shoving from both sides as no one wanted to give an inch.
“19-19.”
Jayson said as he and Ian checked the ball after a series of misses. The
juniors passed the ball carefully back and forth, looking for an opening.
Finally, Mark decided to drive. He went towards the hoop, slightly out of
control and hoisted up a shot. It bounced off the rim once and Jayson jumped up
for the rebound. But then it bounced again, spending extra time up in the air.
As a result, Jayson was on his descent as the ball came off the rim. Meanwhile,
having taken the shot, Mark was able to time his jump better. He reached up,
tapped the ball at its apex and tipped it through the net for a critical
basket.
“20-19.”
Mark said after the play as he and Ian high fived. If they scored again, they
would win the game. Ian took the check from Jayson and dribbled around the
court. Mark tried to post up on Sam, fighting for position in the low block,
but he was well defended. So Ian continued to drive down toward the hoop. He
took a hard dribble to his left and then spun back to his right to try for
another hook shot. The ball danced on the rim again, but fell off, leaving a
scrum for the rebound.
Mark was in
the best position so he rose up to try and tip the ball in for yet another
point. But this time, Jayson was prepared. Rather than go for the rebound, he
followed Mark’s path and timed his jump for the block. He swatted Mark’s tip
attempt out of the air and out of bounds. Now it was Jayson and Sam’s turn for
a celebratory high five. However, it was short lived. Because they were the
last team to touch the ball, the seniors still had to play defense on the next
possession.
Frustrated
and determined to get another chance to defeat his brother, Mark danced around
the court, trying to get open for a pass. However, Ian didn’t feel comfortable
giving up the ball, as Sam played tight defense. Eventually, Mark ran forward,
preparing to come around Ian as if they were running the hand off play which
Ian had scored on a few points earlier. But instead of moving around Ian, he
set up at his brother’s hip, setting a pick to free Ian on a path to the hoop.
“Help!”
Jayson called as he realized he would not be able to reach his streaking
opponent. Sam stepped in front and cut off the drive, but Mark rolled toward
the hoop, open amidst the confusion. Ian saw him and passed the ball excitedly
toward him. But in his eagerness, it came out of his hands awkwardly and
bounced twice before Mark could control it. In that time, Jayson was able to
come over and get in defensive position.
The two
brothers matched up face to face, isolated on the right side of the court. Mark
dribbled to his right, then crossed back to his left, but his brother stayed
with him each step. Ian waved for the ball, but Mark was determined to end the
game himself. One on one against his biggest rival. He tried again to dribble
into open space, going hard to his left. Again, Jayson was there, so he spun
back to his left, fading backwards away from the hoop and his defender. Off one
foot, he fired the fade-away jumper, his brother launching himself forward,
arms outstretched, trying to defend the shot. The ball soared over Jayson’s
outstretched fingers and flew gracefully through the air. It made a swishing
noise as it dropped straight through the middle of the cotton netting.
For
a moment, Mark experienced the thrill of victory, but as he and his brother
fell back to earth, their feet tangled with one another and a pair of ankles
rolled hard against the driveway.
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