Chapter 8
Trey sat out the rest of the first half. The second string guard couldn’t keep up with Pete at all. After a few minutes, Eastlake’s lead had grown to fifteen points.
Trey knew that his dad and his uncle were looking at him. But he didn’t look back at them. He hung his head and stared at the gym floor.
During halftime, the other Wildcats just glared at him.
I know what they’re all thinking, Trey thought. How is this joker the team captain?
At the moment, Trey wasn’t so sure himself. He knew he had screwed up, but he wasn’t sure how to fix it.
The coach went over a few plays and corrected a few mistakes. Then he sent the team out to run a few drills. Trey started to follow everyone else.
“Um, hold on a minute, Trey,” the coach said. He put a hand on his shoulder.
“Yeah?” Trey said. He turned to face the coach.
Coach T pointed at the locker room bench. “Have a seat,” he said.
Trey dropped onto the bench. “Don’t you want me to get out there to do drills with the other guys?” Trey asked.
“Trey, I’m not going to start you in the second half,” Coach T said.
Trey nodded sadly. “I’m not surprised,” he said.
“Until you cool off,” the coach went on, “I’m not going to put you back in. Is that clear?”
Trey sighed loudly. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s clear.”
“All right,” the coach said. “Then get out there and hit the wood until you’re acting like yourself.”
Trey grunted and got to his feet. Then he jogged out of the locker room and went straight to the bench. He sat down next to Daniel Friedland, the second string small forward.
“Hey,” Daniel said.
Trey didn’t even look at Daniel. He just grunted. He couldn’t stop watching Pete, who was on the court, shooting layups with his team.
Just before the second half started, Pete looked over at the Wildcats bench. He and Trey made eye contact, and Pete smiled.
Trey nearly screamed. He couldn’t believe Pete was smiling. Trey wasn’t starting. This was all Pete’s fault, and Pete had the nerve to laugh about it!
“Hi, son,” a voice suddenly said. Trey turned around. His father and Pete’s father were standing behind him.
“Oh hi, Dad,” Trey said. “Hi, Uncle Theo. Enjoying the game?”
“No, we’re not, Trey,” Dad replied.
Trey looked at his feet.
“You know, Trey,” Uncle Theo said, “when your father and I were in college, basketball wasn’t our game.”
“So?” Trey said.
“We played baseball,” Uncle Theo went on. “And since we’re close in age and went to different colleges, we played each other a few times.”
Dad’s face suddenly lit up. “Remember that one game, Theo?” he said.
Uncle Theo nodded. “Sure,” he said. “The championship, senior year. Biggest game I ever played in.”
“Trey, I wish you could have seen it,” Dad said. “It was the old classic scenario. The bottom of the ninth inning . . .”
“Two outs,” Uncle Theo put in. “And I was pitching to the best hitter at State.”
“Me!” Dad said. “We were down by two runs. There were two men on base, and I was up. The pressure was on.”
“And hey,” Uncle Theo said. “I was a good pitcher, don’t forget.”
“Best in the league,” Trey’s dad admitted.
“A hush fell over the stands,” Uncle Theo said. “The whole stadium was on the edge of their seats.”
“What pitch did you throw?” Trey’s dad asked. “Was it a slider?”
“Nope. Breaking fastball,” Uncle Theo said. “I had a great breaking pitch.”
Neither man said anything for a few moments. Trey heard the ref blow his whistle to get the basketball players ready for the second half.
“So?” Trey said finally. “Who won the championship?”
The two men looked at each other. Then they burst out laughing.
“That’s the thing, Trey,” his father said.
“We can never remember!” Uncle Theo finished.
The two men laughed again. Then Trey’s father looked at him.
“Get the idea, son?” Dad asked seriously.
Trey nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I get the idea.”