Double Team Page 7

  By halftime, the score was tied at thirty-six apiece. Jammer was high-man for our team with fourteen points, and I had ten. The other team had a deadly outside shooter named Jay who’d already poured in sixteen points. We knew we were in a battle. We had our hands on our knees, breathing deeply and listening to Coach. After he went over the X’s and O’s, he said: “We have twenty minutes to go, and I know you’re tired. I want you to take a moment and think about everything it took for you to get here.”

  Most of the kids were probably thinking about all the practice hours they’d put in and all the sweat they’d poured out on their own courts. But I was thinking of something else. Because what I’d done to get here, I hadn’t done alone. I was thinking about all the help I had along the way.

  I thought about the sound of Mom’s voice on the phone. I thought about Junior and I beating back about four thousand cyborgs. I thought about Mike and Deuce helping me get better and then stepping aside so I could be here today. I thought about Dad up in the stands during his busiest time of the year….

  “All right,” said Coach. “You got twenty more minutes in you?”

  After all that? You know I did! This guy was a pretty good coach — whatever his name was. We were all pumped up, but the second half was just as tight as the first. Both teams were getting to know each other better — and that went for the defense, too. Kids were switching off on picks and boxing out on rebounds. These guys were good.

  But some were better than others. Khalid gave us a lead at the end of the third quarter with two sweet passes. Jammer set a screen for me on the first one. The instant I broke free on the other side, the ball basically hit me in the hands. One more strong dribble and I was at the hoop. I went up strong and laid it in.

  Then Khalid fed Jammer the one place his defenders couldn’t go: above the rim. He lobbed a soft shot put of a pass up in the general vicinity and Jammer tipped it home. The crowd had gotten pretty big by then, and pretty much every one of them cheered. We were up 52–48 with one quarter left to play.

  But when the fourth quarter started, Jay made some highlights of his own. The other team’s star sank a pair of threes, and we went from up four to down two in a heartbeat. It was back and forth after that. I guess we all knew it was going to go right down to the final buzzer.

  Sure enough, the score was knotted at 65 as the clock hit thirty seconds to go. The other team had the ball and called time-out. We huddled on the sideline.

  “You all know where the ball is going,” said Coach.

  We did. Everyone on the court — and in the stands, too — knew it was going to Jay. The question was how: a screen, motion, some fast passes around the outside? We were all looking at Brandon, our shooting guard. He’d been matched up with Jay all day.

  “Amar’e!” I heard.

  “Yeah, Coach?”

  “I want you to take Jay. You’ve got more length than Brandon, and that might throw him off. Can you do it?”

  I looked around. Jammer, Khalid, Coach, and even Brandon were looking at me. “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll be on him like Khalid on a buffet.”

  Even Coach laughed. Then I had to go out there and do it. Jay was moving all over the court. He was shifty and changed directions on a dime. I did everything I could to stay with him. I didn’t have a chance to look at the shot clock, but I knew it was winding down. He went outside a screen and I shot under it. When I picked him up again on the other side, he had the ball.

  GULP.

  He went right up with it. We both did. He got off the ground fast. I’d never guarded a shooter this good before, so I pretended it was a jump ball. I got up as high as I could with my hand straight up above my head. He released the ball. I extended my fingers.

  TICK.

  I got a little piece of the ball, just with my fingertips. I whipped my head around to see if it was enough.

  “Short!” called Khalid, but Jammer was already on it. The ball hit the front rim and skipped down into his waiting hands. He tossed it to Khalid as we all turned and ran up the court.

  I finally had a chance to check the clock. The shot clock was off because there were only fifteen seconds to go in the game. Time for one last push. They double-teamed Khalid at the top of the key with ten seconds left. He had to give up the ball. Eight seconds left. He passed it to me, but it didn’t stay in my hands long. The last thing I’d seen before I got the ball was Jammer. He nodded at me. I knew where he was going.

  The defense was closing in on me. Five seconds left. I fired the ball up toward the basket. It was a soft shot, and a little too high. But that’s okay, because it wasn’t really a shot. Two seconds left. Jammer’s hands emerged above the rim and wrapped around the ball. One second left. And slammed it home!

  The clock hit zero before he even landed. An air horn sounded, but you could barely hear it over the sound of the cheering crowd. Final score: 67–65. We won!

  It was pretty crazy right after the game. “Wait, wait,” called Khalid over the noise. “Did someone say something about a buffet?”

  The whole team laughed at that. Now I knew why I liked that guy so much: He reminded me of Mike. After that, we shook hands with the other team. We meant it, too. It was a good, clean — and very close! — game.

  Jammer was ahead of me in the line. When we reached the end, he turned around. I held out my hand, but he shook his head.

  “Nah, nah,” he said. “Up top.”

  He held his hand all the way up, and I reached up and slapped it.

  “You know what I mean, Amar’e? We’ll both be playing up there pretty soon.”

  I nodded. “I’m almost there,” I said.

  “Next time I’ll be lobbing it to you.”

  “I can’t wait,” I said. “But right now, I’ve got to go!”

  “Yeah?” he said, surprised. “There’s gonna be a big presentation. I caught a look at the trophies earlier. They’re pretty sweet. You should stick around.”

  “Can’t,” I said. “Got someplace to be.”

  I headed toward the edge of the court.

  “Where you going?” I heard someone shout.

  It was Khalid. His eyes didn’t miss anything. I didn’t have time to explain, but I had something I wanted to say to him. “You made a believer out of me!” I called back.

  “Not just you!” he said, nodding toward the crowd as it spilled out of the stands.

  I wished I had time to talk to him some more. Instead, I pointed at him the way you point at a guy after he sets you up with a perfect pass. I figured Khalid had seen that move plenty.

  I stepped off the court just as Overtime was stepping onto it. “You’re heading the wrong way,” he said.

  “Kind of in a hurry,” I said. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize to me,” he said. “Not after the game you just played.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “And thanks for the invitation. This was amazing.”

  “There’ll be more of these in your future,” he said. “And I’ll make sure you get your trophy. Now get wherever you need to go!”

  People started congratulating me as soon as I stepped off the court. I won’t lie: It was pretty amazing. But I just said thanks and kept moving until I found Dad and Junior.

  “Great game!” said Junior.

  “Way to stand tall, STAT!” said Dad.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But can I get a ride? Like, right now?”

  “Where’s the fire?” said Dad.

  “I think I know,” said Junior.

  Dad tossed him the keys to his truck. “Then you take him,” he said. “Think I’m going to stick around a while. Get a hot dog and maybe brag on my son a little. Just pick me up when you’re done.”

  It was cool to see Dad enjoying his day off, but Junior and I were off and running. Well, jogging anyway. We reached the truck just in time to beat most of the traffic out of the parking lot. We left the tournament and headed for the highway. Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot of another, s
maller tournament.

  I hopped down out of the truck and headed for the entrance. Once I got inside, I spotted a familiar face. It was Deuce’s cousin.

  “Hey, Timmy,” I said. “I’m not too late, am I?”

  “Nah,” he said. “They’re just about to tip-off in the final.”

  “Awesome!”

  We headed up into the stands. From our seats we had a good view of the team we came to see. I stood up and put my hands around my mouth. “Let’s go, Mike!” I shouted.

  “Let’s go, Deuuuuce!” shouted Timmy.

  We called out the last one together: “Let’s go, Doug-EEEEEEEE!”

  It hadn’t been too hard to talk Dougie into taking my place for this one. Especially after I promised to help him get up to speed in practice.

  “Think they heard us?” asked Timmy, as the ref tossed the ball up in the air.

  Mike jumped straight up after it. He had springs in his feet and a smile on his face.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “They know we’re here for them.”

  Special thanks to Michael Northrop

  AMAR’E STOUDEMIRE, captain of the New York Knicks and a six-time NBA All-Star, is a well-respected professional basketball player. He has made a name for himself as a leader and positive force on the court and in the community. The Amar’e Stoudemire Foundation creatively inspires youth to avoid poverty through education. He is the father of three children.

  Text copyright © 2012 by Amar’e Stoudemire Enterprises

  Illustrations copyright © 2012 by Scholastic Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  First printing, October 2012

  Cover and interior art by Tim Jessell

  Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll

  e-ISBN: 978-0-545-46992-0

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