KIM watched the big gymnasium fill up with people. Music blared from loud-speakers. Boys sold programs. Kim’s dad bought one for him.
“I’ll keep score!” Kim said breathlessly. “Got a pencil, Dad?”
His father gave him a pencil.
The Philadelphia Ravens trotted out onto the floor. They were dressed in yellow jackets and long yellow pants. They had four basketballs which they began to throw at the basket. Kim watched excitedly. There must be a dozen men on that team!
After a while the Seacord Lions trotted in. They were in bright green. Everybody cheered and whistled.
“There’s Thompson!” cried Kim. He knew most of the players from watching them on television. “And there’s Wally Goodrich! See him, Dad? See him? Boy! Just watch him!”
The players on both teams began to remove their jackets. That made them look even taller than before. Thompson must be about six feet six. Reynolds, six feet seven. Kim was sure Wally Goodrich was six feet four. He knew more about Wally than he did about any of the others.
Kim opened the program and found the players’ names. Wally Goodrich, 24 years old, six feet four inches. He was right. He read through the others. Wow! Such giants! Philadelphia had a man six feet nine! A player like that had only to hold the ball over the basket and drop it in!
Two referees appeared. They wore black pants and black and white striped shirts. The music stopped playing. An announcer spoke. He gave the names of the starting players of both teams. Then the national anthem was played and everybody stood up. When it was over, the people sat down.
The game began.
All the players wore jerseys and shorts now. A referee tossed the ball up between the two giant centers. Long fingers tapped it. Philadelphia got it, passed it to another Philadelphian. A Lion player snared it!
Kim jumped to his feet. “Wally Goodrich caught it, Daddy! That was Wally—”
His heart thumped like a hammer against his ribs. He sat on the edge of his chair, one hand gripping the program, the other the chair in front of him. Wally dribbled the ball down-court, running as if he were carrying the ball. All at once he passed. The next second the ball was passed back to him. He leaped for a hook shot. Made it!
“See, Dad?” cried Kim. “He’s good!”
The ball was passed upcourt. Kim had trouble keeping track of it. These players moved with the speed of lightning. A basket was made almost every five seconds. First the Ravens made one or two. Then the Lions did. It was too fast for Kim to put down on paper. He stuck the pencil into his pocket. He could not watch the game and keep score too.
When the half ended, the score was SEACORD LIONS—48, PHILADELPHIA RAVENS—47.
During the intermission a Philadelphia player was named the outstanding player of the month, and given a wrist watch.
“Wally Goodrich was outstanding player last month,” Kim said.
The second half was as lively and exciting as the first. Substitutes came in often. Wally Goodrich went out and then came back in two or three times. Kim enjoyed the way he faked when a guard came up to him. Twice he bounced the ball behind him with his right hand and continued bouncing it, without interruption, with his left. Another time he faked an overhand pass. When the guard jumped, Wally dribbled under his arm and laid one up for an easy two points. It looked easy, anyway.
Kim noticed that Wally shot his fouls with one hand. He would raise the ball to his right shoulder with both hands, then push the ball up with his right hand. He made it almost every time.
Just before the game was over, Kim asked his father for a favor. His father smiled and nodded.
The score was still close when the game ended. The Seacord Lions won, 101 to 98.
When they went home, Kim had a name scribbled in pencil on the back of his program.
It was Wally Goodrich.