Time-out!” Tito shouted, frantically slapping his palm onto his fingertips.
Fweet! The ref’s whistle blew and both teams hustled off the court. Jody was already drawing a play on his small whiteboard. “We don’t have a lot of time, so pay attention,” he said urgently. He flipped the board around so they could all see the play.
“Donnie, Cue Ball, and Bobby line up shoulder to shoulder in that order on the side of the foul line closest to where the ball is being inbounded. Tim, you stand behind Bobby. Mike, you inbound the ball. Got it?”
The boys nodded.
“Mike starts the play with a slap on the ball. When the rest of you hear that, move! Bobby, you cut to the right of the hoop. Cue Ball, you fade back a few steps. Donnie, you cut to the left and outside. Tim, you cut left, too, but to the inside. Everybody put your hands up and shout as if you’re the one getting the pass. Mike, you feed the ball to Tim.”
“What?” Mike jabbed an outraged finger at Tim. “You’re putting our last hope of sending the game into overtime into his hands? He’s barely taken a shot all game!”
“Exactly,” said Jody. “So they won’t expect him to be the shooter, will they?” He turned to Tim. “Think you can do it?”
“Of course he can’t!” Mike cried before Tim could answer. “He should inbound the ball! I’ll take the shot!”
Tim stood up. “I don’t think I can,” he said. When Mike started to agree, he added in a firm voice, “I know I can.” He stared at Mike.
“You do your job. I’ll do mine.”
The referee called for time-in then, preventing any further discussion. The boys raced onto the court and lined up as Jody had instructed. Only when he was hidden behind the three taller boys did Tim realize how smart Jody’s plan was. The defense would have trouble covering a man they couldn’t see!
“Get ready,” Donnie whispered.
Whack!
Mike slapped the ball. The Eagles exploded into action. Bobby darted to the right of the hoop. Cue Ball danced back. Donnie swung wide to the left. Tim arced inside Donnie’s path and turned toward Mike.
Mike wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at Bobby. Bobby was covered. His eyes shifted to Donnie. But Donnie was covered, too.
Give it to me! Tim screamed in his head. Your five seconds are almost up!
Finally, Mike glanced at Tim. The Chickasaw center must have been watching his eyes because suddenly, he left Donnie and took a step toward Tim. Mike directed a bounce pass in Tim’s direction, but instead of hitting the ground, the ball hit the center’s foot! It took a crazy hop.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The Chickasaw fans started counting down the final seconds—just as Tim snared the ball out of the air!
“Seven! Six!”
The center leaped forward, arms high and waving. There was no way Tim could shoot over him. Unless …
“Five! Four!”
Tim put the ball in his right hand down by his side and turned so his shoulders were lined up with the hoop.
“Three! Two!”
Tim swept the ball up over his shoulder in an arc, pushed off his right leg, and flicked his wrist to send the ball spiraling through the air toward the hoop. And at the same time—wham! The center smacked into Tim, landing on him like a ton of bricks!
Fweet!
As Tim crumpled to the floor, two things registered in his brain. One, he’d been fouled on the shot. And two—the ball didn’t even touch the rim. It just swished through the center of the strings! Nothin’ but net!
Blaaaaaaa!
The buzzer sounded a split second after the basket. The fans erupted in cheers and shouts. The Eagles cleared the bench to swarm Tim, who was still on the floor, dazed and overjoyed.
“Tim Daniels sinks a buzzer-beating, game-tying hook shot under pressure!” Dick called over the loudspeaker. “And he was fouled, so he’ll go to the line to shoot one!”
Sam helped Tim to his feet. “You can do it,” he said. The other boys echoed his encouragement. Then everyone but the starting five hurried back to the sidelines to watch.
The gym fell silent as Tim walked to the foul line. The referee checked on the players’ positions to make sure no one’s feet were over the line. “Shooting one,” he informed them.
Then he handed the ball to Tim and stepped back.
A thousand thoughts flooded Tim’s mind.
The game is tied, so it’s okay if you miss!
Don’t screw up like you did last year!
Air ball! Air ball!
Tim swallowed hard and spun the ball between his fingers, trying to clear his head and focus. He dribbled twice and spun the ball again. Then suddenly, a new thought spoke inside his head.
Hang time!
All nervousness left him. He dribbled one more time and then, with a small smile playing about his lips, he bent his knees, uncoiled, and shot.
It wasn’t a perfect free throw, Tim later admitted. It could have used more arc and been better centered. But despite its flaws, it did the trick. The ball bounced once and then fell through the hoop.
If the crowd had gone crazy when Tim stuck the hook shot, now it went positively insane! Thunderous applause shook the rafters. Tito and Jody hoisted Tim onto their shoulders and paraded him around the gym. They were so different in height that Tim had to hold on for dear life or else risk toppling to the floor. But he didn’t care. He wasn’t just on top of their shoulders.
He was on top of the world!