6

Tim returned to the courts that afternoon for basketball practice with the other boys from the Eagles Nest. As he ran his warmup laps with the sun beating down on him, he found himself sympathizing with Red’s complaint about the heat.

Too bad I can’t turn off the sun and turn on the cool, he thought, for me and for Red!

After the laps, the players divided into two groups, guards in one, forwards and centers in the other. Tim was in Tito’s group with Mike, Sam, and Elijah.

“We’re working on dribbling first, then outside shooting today,” Tito informed them as he placed sets of orange cones in two rows. He tossed them each a ball. “As guards, you have to be able to dribble with either hand, not just your dominant one. Let’s see what you can do.”

He told them to form two lines at center court. “Dribble down to the hoop and back through the cones. Speed and control the whole way. Whenever I blow my whistle, switch hands. Ready? Go!”

Tim was first in his line. At Tito’s command, he took off. He focused on keeping his dribble low, using his fingertips and wrist to move the ball—and not letting Mike, who was weaving through the other cones, get ahead of him. He succeeded at all three.

Fweet! shrieked the whistle.

Without missing a beat, Tim bounced the ball to his left hand. He’d only gone a few steps when—fweet!—Tito blew his whistle again. Again, Tim switched hands smoothly.

Then, as he was turning around at the baseline, Tito gave another blast. Still turning, Tim fumbled the cross dribble. The ball hit a cone and rolled off the court. Red-faced, he dodged past Mike to retrieve it.

“Watch it!” Mike growled.

Tim’s face was still burning when he passed the ball to Sam, who was next in line. When all the boys had gone through the cones three times, Tito called them back together.

“A few mistakes, but overall, pretty good,” Tito said. “There are plenty of drills to make your dribble even stronger. The figure eight, for example.”

He got into a low stance with one leg forward. Dribbling just a few inches off the ground, he moved the ball in a half circle around his front foot, passed it between his legs to his other hand, and then dribbled it around the outside of his back foot before passing between his legs again. When complete, the ball’s path formed a figure eight.

Tim had done the figure eight before, so he didn’t have any trouble with it. Mike didn’t, either, but Sam and Elijah needed some practice to get it right. When they succeeded, Tito moved on to the scissor dribble.

With his feet shoulder-width apart and his right leg forward, he dribbled a few times and then bounced the ball between his legs. He caught it with his other hand and dribbled it to the front before sending between his legs again. He brought the ball even with his front leg and began the drill from the top.

“Join in,” he called.

Once everyone had a good rhythm going, he urged them to increase their speed. They kept at it for a full minute before he told them to stop.

“How are your wrists and arms feeling?” he asked.

“A little tired,” Elijah admitted. Tim and Sam nodded in agreement.

“Whenever you get a chance, dribble against a wall,” Tito suggested. “Keeping the ball from falling will really build up your arm strength and stamina.”

Tim had never heard of doing such a thing but decided it was worth a try.

“Okay, one last activity,” Tito said. “Get a second ball and spread out along the center-court line.” When the boys were in position, Tito told them to begin dribbling both balls, one with each hand.

“Keep them in sync until you reach the foul line,” he added. “Then alternate them so one is hitting the ground while the other is hitting your hand. Turn at the baseline and come back.”

The drill was harder than it sounded.

“Stay low!” Tito barked. “Eyes up, not on the ball! Control the dribbles!”

Tim was breathing hard when Tito ended the double dribble drill and sent them to Jody to work on their shooting.

“At yesterday’s game,” the counselor said, “Dick and I noticed that some of you didn’t take shots from outside the key, even when you were wide open.”

Mike suddenly coughed “Tim!” into his hand. Jody frowned. Mike thumped his chest, cleared his throat a few times, and then nodded as if to say everything was fine.

“An-y-way,” Jody continued, “pair off, one person on offense, the other on defense. Offense, dribble around, throw a few fakes, and then try for a shot. Defense, be annoying but don’t interfere too much. The point is to let your partner get comfortable taking shots while being guarded, not to block his every attempt.”

Tim paired up with Sam and started on offense. Sam followed Jody’s instructions to the letter, allowing Tim to get off several shots. Some of them missed the basket, but others banked in softly. After a few minutes, they changed sides, and Sam had his turn to drop some through the hoop.

Then Jody had them switch partners. Now Tim faced Mike. Dread bubbled up inside him. He wondered how long it would take for Mike to make him feel foolish.

Not long, it turned out. On his first possession, Tim fake-pumped, hoping Mike would jump to block the ball, thus giving him a chance to go back up for the real shot.

But he never got that shot off, because Mike punched the ball out of his hands in mid-fake!

“Jeez, Daniels, hit the weight room already, will you?” Mike said in a mocking tone. “You’re so weak you can’t even hold the ball above your head!”