RUSTY played forward with Joby. Corny Moon and Bud Farris played guard. Jim Bush was at center. He was taking Perry's place.
It was the Lakers' out near their own basket. Corny passed the ball from out of bounds to Bud. Bud dribbled a couple of steps and shot a quick pass to Joby, who was running toward the basket. Joby caught the ball and leaped. A Braves man jumped, slapped the ball, and it squirted from Joby's hands.
Rusty caught it!
What shall I do with it? he thought, standing as if paralyzed. The ball had bounced to him unexpectedly.
“Shoot, Rusty! Shoot!” someone yelled.
He was near the corner, just about in the same position from where he had practiced taking shots at home and in the big barn.
A Braves player bounded forward. He swung his arms wildly in front of Rusty. Rusty tried to feint to the left, and then to the right. The player bobbed up and down in front of him like a puppet.
Rusty leaped as high as he could, and that wasn't high. He flipped the ball with his wrists toward the basket. It sailed in a high arc, struck the rim, and bounced up into the air. Then it dropped — right through the net!
A roar burst from the Lakers fans. “Thataboy, Rusty!”
Rusty's heart melted. All at once his fright was gone. He had done it. He had made his first basket in a real game.
The Braves' ball. They moved it down-court quickly. Rusty trotted after them. He tried to hurry and felt his toes scraping the floor. Those legs! You'd think they were against anything he wanted to do!
The Braves player shot a pass across the court. Another Braves player caught it, feinted Corny Moon out of position, then broke fast for the basket. Just as he leaped to try a lay-up, Bud hit his wrist.
Freeeee-e-et!
“Two shots!” said the referee. He held up two fingers, Bud's number.
Bud shook his head discouragingly. He held up his hand to show he was the offender.
The Braves man sank the first shot, missed the second. Jim Bush caught the rebound, zipped a pass to Bud. Bud dribbled the ball up-court. He bounce-passed to Rusty. Rusty passed it back to him, then hurried to his corner spot. He hoped the ball would be passed to him. But his man guarded him well. No one dared to pass it.
Corny tried a set shot from the opposite corner. He missed. Jim and the Braves center leaped for the rebound. They both came down together with the ball gripped tightly in their hands.
Freeee-e-et! Jump ball.
A Braves man took the tap, passed to a teammate. Once again the ball zipped quickly in the other direction. Just as Rusty let out a sigh of disappointment, a player accidentally kicked his right foot. The player was Rusty's man. He stumbled forward, but regained his balance hurriedly.
The kick knocked Rusty off balance, too. Rusty fell. He struck the floor with his hip, then skidded and rolled over.
Again the whistle.
“Tripping!” shouted the referee, pointing at the Braves player. “You shoot one!” he said to Rusty.
Rusty stared, wide-eyed, as he rose to his feet.
The Braves players shouted something at the referee. They didn't like that call.
“Hurt, Rusty?” Joby asked, running forward.
“No. I'm all right,” said Rusty. I wouldn't call that a foul, though. It was an accident.
He stepped to the free-throw line, and rubbed his hip.
The referee waited till the players were ready on each side of the free-throw lane, then handed the ball to Rusty. “One shot,” he repeated.
Nervously, Rusty took the ball. He bounced it a few times, then looked long and carefully at the basket. A hushed silence fell upon the big gym.
Rusty shot. The ball hit the rim, rolled around it, and fell off!
A half a dozen pairs of hands reached up for the rebound. Jim Bush got it. In the next instant someone knocked it out of his hands. It bounced across the floor. Rusty hurried after it, scooped it up. A tall, broad-shouldered Braves player reached it a moment later. He wrapped his arm around the ball and tried to whip it out of Rusty's hands.
Rusty held on as tightly as he could. The Braves player was strong. He practically picked Rusty off his feet and swung him around the floor! Rusty fell, but he still held on to the ball. The Braves player bent on one knee beside Rusty, and looked at Rusty unbelievingly.
The Lakers fans roared out in laughter: “That's the boy, Rusty! Don't let him take it from you!”
Jump ball. The Braves player won his argument this time. He outjumped Rusty easily. Ten seconds later the Braves scored a basket. The buzzer sounded. Mark and Perry came back into the game. Rusty and Jim went out.
They sat on the bench beside Coach Alec Daws. Their faces glistened with perspiration.
“How do you feel, Rusty?” asked Alec.
Rusty's chest rose and fell as he breathed. “Okay!” he said.
Alec grinned. “You did fine,” he said. “In the second half, we'll let you go in again.”
Rusty smiled. “Thank you!”
“But keep out of those scrambles,” warned Alec. “Get in one intentionally, and you're out. Remember that!”
Rusty nodded. A little while later the buzzer sounded, ending the first half.