HIS DAD STARTED TO DESCRIBE IT TO HIM. DANNY CUT HIM OFF, SAYING HE didn’t need anybody to draw him a picture on this one.
“I’ve known this play my whole life,” he said.
“They’ll be looking for you to pass,” Richie said.
“Yeah,” Danny said. “Won’t they?”
Then he ran back across the court, feeling fresh all of a sudden, and told the Warriors he had a play he thought just might beat the Vikings.
Ty and Michael Harden were on opposite sidelines, just inside the mid-court line. Will and Oliver Towne went to the corners. Danny had the ball at mid-court.
He could hear Daryll Senior yelling at the Vikings to watch Ty.
“He’s gonna give it to Ty,” Daryll Senior said.
Danny kept it instead.
He dribbled toward the free throw line, straight down the middle of the court; when Andy Mayne and Daryll Junior double-teamed him, Danny wheeled around at top speed and dribbled right back outside.
Forty seconds left.
Now he dribbled to his left, toward Ty, just as Ty ran toward him. Da-Rod, still covering Ty, seemed sure Danny was about to pass it to him. Except Danny didn’t pass, just put the ball through his legs, spun around again, came back to the middle.
Thirty.
He looked over at Michael Harden. Behind Michael, he could see his mom and Tess, standing there, holding hands, like statues. Danny wondered if his mom knew what she was watching: Watching him dribbling out the clock the way his dad had.
The only difference was, Richie Walker’s team had been ahead by a point at the end of the big game, not one behind.
With ten seconds left, Will and Oliver ran out of the corners the way they were supposed to. Ty ran down to where Will had been, in the left corner. Daryll Senior yelled at Daryll Junior to stay where he was, forget his man, guard the basket like he was the back guy in a zone.
Danny made his move down the middle.
When he got inside the free throw line, Daryll Junior stepped up to double-team him along with Andy Mayne.
Danny Walker went left hand, right hand, then back again, the ball as low to the ground as dust, splitting the two of them with a perfect double crossover.
Like in the driveway.
He was wide open, but only for an instant.
On account of, here came Da-Rod.
Now Danny passed.
He passed with a left hand that suddenly didn’t hurt one single bit, made a perfect bounce pass to Ty Ross without even looking, knowing exactly where Ty would be, just as if he were one of the folding chairs in the driveway. Then Danny turned his head to see Ty make the catch.
And the layup that beat the stinking Vikings.
Everything seemed to happen at fast-forward speed after that, like somebody in the crowd had a remote in his hands.
He saw his dad standing and pumping his arms over his head, crutches forgotten on the floor next to him, looking as happy as Danny had ever seen him.
Then his mom was over there with his dad, an arm around his shoulder, his mom acting like his crutch.
Tess Hewitt came running for Danny then, started to put her arms around him, then pulled back, remembering his shoulder.
“Is a hug allowed?”
He said, yeah, it was allowed, and she ducked her head and leaned down and hugged him and he hugged her back.
When he pulled away from Tess, not sure where to go next, Ty Ross was standing in front of him, grinning this goofy-looking grin from ear to ear.
“Nice pass,” he said.
“Nice shot,” Danny said.
The two of them shook hands the regular way.
The old-school way.
Then Ty kept holding on to Danny’s hand and somehow lifted him up in the air in the same motion. Then Will was there, and Bren, putting Danny up on their shoulders, carrying him around the court, the way the old Vikings had carried his dad once.
Danny looked down on the day and thought:
So this is what everything looks like from up here.