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 that Solinsky started in 2011. 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 to 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 by just throwing money at your athletes and
yelling “go”.
“Astaire!” The sound of their
biology teacher’s voice rang out, wounding 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 piece together 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?” Their peer 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.
Meanwhile, 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 was saying 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, ‘by just throwing money at your
athletes …’”
“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 by just 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. This time 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, the Raiders decided to fire their head instructor and bring in
retired professional coach Alberto Solares to be his replacement. Solares has
coached former Olympians in the 5,000 and 10,000 meters, but was very intrigued
by the opportunity to work with 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 boys 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 really 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 asked, 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 I feel obligate to tell you that 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 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 and
failed 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 tallied an easy point.
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 sweatier 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. On impact, Jayson
dribbled quickly in that direction, getting a step to the lane. Mark drifted
off Sam and rose up just as his brother 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 once more, forcing 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 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 compliment the basket.
“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 more.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Sam
said, staring at the basket 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 backboard before traveling over 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 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 counter strike, 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 in anticipation of 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 tap 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 leap for a 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 and stoic. 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 on which Ian had scored 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, unguarded 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 far 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 right, 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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