I stood beyond the three-point line at the top of the key and sized up my five: Zoe was playing the two (shooting guard), Diego was at the three (small forward), Headband was at the four (power forward), and Maya was at the five (center). Yeah, Maya was our center. That’s how tall she now was.
We were going over Black Widow, a play in our half-court offense. I was at the one (point guard). I was running the show. I was the floor general.
“Our minds are working hard,” Coach Acevedo said. “Everyone’s learning every role, everyone’s learning every position.” He pointed to Maya. “Right now, you’re at the five, but when we go small, you may be running the point. Or you might be at the two or three.” He clapped twice and pumped his fists. “Every role, every position.”
For less than a nanosecond, I thought-bubbled the play:
My basketball brain computed:
• I (1) pass to Diego (3) and cut to Zoe (2).
• Maya (5) slides up, pops out, and sets a back screen for Diego to block his man as Diego goes to the hoop.
• Diego dribbles right.
• Maya seals off Diego’s man and rolls to the hoop.
• Headband (4) clears out to free up the lane.
• Diego drives for the layup or dumps the ball to Maya for the layup.
“Here we go,” Coach Acevedo said.
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“Black Widow!” I called.
I whipped the ball to Diego and cut right.
“It’s Vasquez time,” Diego said to Mehdi, who was guarding him. “Later, son.”
He jab-stepped left, waited for Maya to set the screen—a screen Mehdi had no chance of getting around—and then blew by him. As he drove down the lane, Hudson slid over to help, but not before Diego got off the shot and sank the layup.
“Boss!” Diego beat his chest and stomped to me. We did a jumping hip-bump. “We run this floor.”
“Ballin’!” Maya clapped her hands like cymbals.
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“Let’s settle down,” Coach Acevedo said. “You executed a play in practice, but you’re acting like you won the Larry O’Brien Trophy, and if you don’t know what the Larry O’Brien Trophy is, look it up when you get home.”
I knew what the Larry O’Brien Trophy was. Red’s told me a gazillion times. It’s the Super Bowl trophy of the NBA.
“Way to go, Diego Vasquez!” Red cheered.
“Boss!” Diego pumped his fists.
Diego was also part of my Get-Red-to-Come-to-the-Showdown Plan. His job was to include Red as much as possible. That way, Red would realize he’d be missing out if he didn’t go. Red doesn’t like missing out on anything.
“You didn’t draw Hudson far enough from the hoop,” Coach Acevedo said to Headband. “He almost cut off Diego’s lane. Complete your assignments on defense.” He clapped twice. “Let’s run that again. Match up. Here we go.”
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I fired my pass to Diego. Once again, he caught the ball and waited for Maya’s screen. This time, Mehdi fought through it. Well, not really. Diego still got a step on him. In the lane, when Hudson slid over, Diego passed to Maya, who’d rolled around Mimi to the hoop. She sank the layup.
“Ballin’!” Maya shouted.
“Boom! In your face!” Diego thumped his chest again. “We’re two for two!”
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Coach Acevedo pointed at Headband. “You still didn’t draw your man out far enough.”
“Person,” Maya said. “There are guys and girls on Clifton United.”
Coach Acevedo nodded and turned to Mimi, who was guarding Maya. “You can’t lose track of your person that close to the hoop.” He looked at Diego and me. “Way to run the offense.”