Jeff could have played the point for all twenty-four minutes and Arlow could have made every shot he took from the shooting guard spot, and it wouldn’t have made much difference.
Haverford had eleven players who, Jeff figured, were roughly as talented as Merion’s eleven players. But the Squirrels—the nickname they took in honor of nearby Haverford College—had one player Merion couldn’t match: Michael Jordan.
Jeff’s father had once done a story on a basketball player at Penn named Michael Jordan. He had pointed out in the piece that the “real” Michael Jordan had been a high school freshman when Penn’s Michael Jordan was born, so there was no connection. But he had also found quite a few athletes named Michael Jordan who had been named in honor of the former Chicago Bulls superstar.
This, apparently, was one of them. And, if he wasn’t actually related to the Hall of Famer, he played as if he had Jordan’s genes.
He wasn’t that tall—Jeff guessed about five-nine—but he was at least a step quicker than everyone else on the floor and he could jump over anyone to get a shot off. Jeff knew his team was in deep trouble midway through the first quarter when Jordan stripped him, went in all alone, and dunked with one hand. For someone five-nine to dunk was remarkable. For any sixth-grader to dunk one-handed was whatever came after remarkable. Jeff had now seen dunks happen twice in three games. The kid at Camden had used two hands. Jordan used one and appeared to have room to spare.
Jordan didn’t really guard anyone. He just roamed the floor, looking for steals. If he didn’t get one, he raced to the basket when a shot went up and—almost inevitably—grabbed the rebound.
“It’s like there’s two of him out there,” Jeff heard Coach Benyak say to Coach Crist at the end of the first quarter. By then the score was Haverford 19, Merion 7. Or, more accurately, it was Jordan 15, his teammates 4, and Merion 7. On the two baskets Jordan hadn’t scored, he’d driven into the lane, drawn a double-team, and passed to a teammate for an easy layup.
“Look,” Coach C said in the huddle. “I know you’ve never played against anyone as good as this kid. I get it. But let’s stay calm and play zone and see if we can keep him from getting inside all the time.”
They had practiced a two-three zone defense at times in practice but hadn’t used it in the first two games. Coach C was a disciple of Duke University coach Mike Krzyzewski, who only played zone in extreme emergencies. This was clearly very extreme.
The first time Jordan brought the ball up in the second quarter and saw the zone, he began smiling. “Zone!” he called out to his teammates.
Apparently, they’d seen this before. They all shuffled around and the kid playing center came to the top of the key and set a screen for Jordan. He dribbled behind it and smoothly shot—and swished—a three. Jeff found himself looking over at Coach C as if to say, “Now what?”
They stayed in the zone and Jordan, apparently bored, passed more often to his teammates. It was 35–15 at halftime. The only way Merion was going to have a chance was if the Haverford coach agreed to let them play seven guys against his five. Even that might not have helped.
Jeff hadn’t noticed how packed the gym had become once the game started. It probably seated about five hundred, and every corner was full. Apparently, the word was out that the sixth-grade team had a star in the making.
Jordan didn’t play at all in the fourth quarter. The score was 53–22 after three quarters, and the Haverford coach decided to have mercy on his opponent. Jeff had a feeling that was going to be the case for a lot of Haverford’s games. With Jordan sitting on the end of the bench with a towel over his head, Merion managed to play the fourth quarter to a 10–10 standoff. Without Jordan, the teams were—as Jeff had suspected—evenly matched.
The final score was 63–32. Even with Jordan not playing the last six minutes, Haverford had scored sixty-three points, which was amazing in a twenty-four-minute game at any level.
Ted Washington, Tavon’s brother who kept stats for the team, told Jeff later that Jordan’s three-quarter totals were thirty-six points, fourteen rebounds, eight assists, and eight steals. It had felt more like 20 steals to Jeff.
When they got back to the locker room, Coach C just shook his head as they all sat down on stools.
“Fellas, you’ve got nothing to feel bad about,” he said. “I have a feeling someday you’ll tell people you played against the Michael Jordan of the twenty-first century. His biggest problem is going to be all the attention he’s going to start getting very soon.
“So we’re going to pretend today never happened. The good news is, we don’t play them again until the last game of the season, so let’s try to get on an eleven-game winning streak between now and then. We’ve got Ardmore at home on Friday. Unless Jordan transfers there between now and then”—he got a laugh with that line—“it’s an eminently winnable game. So, let’s shower fast and get back to school. I know you’ve all got homework to do.”
Jeff moaned to himself. He had plenty of homework to do. Getting visions of Michael Jordan out of his mind while he was studying would not be easy.
The Haverford girls’ team wasn’t nearly as good as its boys’ team. There was no female equivalent of Michael Jordan or anyone close to that. They were tall, but not very athletic. Debbie Lee was as tall as any of them and more talented.
Of course, Coach Josephson insisted on the same five starters, so the score stayed close for a quarter—11–10, Merion. But when she put Andi and Lisa Carmichael into the game to start the second quarter to join Eleanor, Maria, and Jamie, the game became a runaway quickly.
Haverford didn’t have any guards who could handle the ball against the quickness of Maria and Andi, and with Lisa joining Eleanor inside, Merion dominated, in spite of Haverford’s height. In the first four minutes of the second quarter, Merion outscored Haverford 13–0, pushing the lead to 24–10. The Haverford coach called time and Coach Josephson took all five players on the court out—insisting that Dove and Medley need a rest.
“We’re fine, Coach,” Maria said when Coach Josephson explained this in the huddle.
“I’ll decide that,” Coach Josephson answered, giving Maria a sharp look.
The last two minutes were even and Merion led 28–14 at the break.
In the locker room, Andi, sitting nearest to the corner where the coaches went to talk while the players rested, overheard Coach Tuller saying, “Amy, we’ve got to go with the kids who started the second quarter. They’ve earned it.”
“Bonnie, you’ve been to one practice and been part of the first half of one game and now you’re the expert on who should play?” Coach Josephson answered.
Andi didn’t hear the answer. The two coaches had apparently walked out of earshot.
Maybe the group that had started the second quarter had earned the right to start the third, but Coach Josephson went with the five who had started the game. Fortunately, Eleanor and Maria were part of that group, and the third quarter ended with Eleanor catching a lob pass from Maria for a layup that made the score 40–23.
Everyone played in the fourth quarter. Andi hit two open threes and was fouled while making the second one. As she walked to the free-throw line, she saw Brooke Jensen and Jamie Bronson reporting to the scorer’s table. Bronson came in for her pal Jenny Mearns. Jensen, however, stayed at the table, indicating to the official that she was coming in for the shooter—Andi.
Andi wasn’t that surprised. There was only 2:14 left in the game and the lead was now a very comfortable 53–31. Jensen was part of the second five that Coach Josephson had played while leaving Andi and Lisa Carmichael on the bench, but in reality, she was probably the twelfth-best player on a twelve-girl team. Getting her some playing time in the last couple minutes of a blowout made sense.
Andi made the free throw, exchanged a hand-slap with Jensen, and received congratulations from her teammates as she came out. She had played about fourteen minutes—a season high—and had scored fifteen points. She had taken four three-point shots and made them all. A pretty good day.
As she walked to the end of the bench and sat down next to Maria and Eleanor, she realized she was smiling—probably for the first time all season. She put her head in a towel to wipe the perspiration from her face and became aware that someone was standing in front of her. She pulled the towel away and looked up to see Coach Josephson standing there.
“You played well today, Carillo,” she said. “But you need to learn to pass more often.”
Andi was about to say something like, “Coach, why pass when I have a wide-open shot?” but opted for, “Thanks, Coach, I’ll work on it.”
“You’re a much better person than I am,” Maria said as the coach walked away. “I’d have told her to stick it.”
“Which would have accomplished what?” Eleanor said.
Maria grinned. “I don’t know. But I would have enjoyed it.”
The final score was 56–39, after Haverford was able to score a few easy baskets in the final couple of minutes.
It was nice to win. Andi was still convinced they could have at least split the first two games if Coach Josephson had kept her best players on the floor for the most minutes instead of playing her silly mind games. They were 1–0 in the conference. Andi reminded herself they had started 0–2 in soccer and had tied their first conference game. Based on that, they were ahead of schedule.
A winning locker room is always louder than a losing locker room. Even Coach Josephson seemed upbeat.
“Now you see how we can play when we play as a team,” she said. “Everyone contributed today—everyone. That was a great win. We have the late practice tomorrow, early on Thursday. Friday, the bus will leave for Ardmore at two thirty. I hear they won their conference opener today, too, so that will be a big game.”
She was actually smiling. Andi was trying to remember if she’d ever seen her smile before. After they did their cheer—“Beat the Antlers!”—Maria walked past Andi on her way to the shower.
“Great win?” she said softly. “Did she watch that team play? You, Eleanor, and I could have beaten that team three-on-five.”
Andi laughed. Then she thought about it for a second. Maria might have been right.
She remembered a quote she had once read from the football coach of a struggling team: “You never throw a win back. Every one of them is worth having.”
This team, she suspected, was in no position to throw a win back.
Jeff was climbing wearily onto the bus, visions of Michael Jordan’s dunk still very clear in his mind’s eye, when he saw that Andi had texted him. He’d been thinking of texting her once on the bus but was almost afraid to ask what had happened. What if Michael Jordan had a twin sister?
He smiled when he saw the text.
We won! Haverford was so bad even Coach J couldn’t screw us up. U?
He sat down and began typing a response. Danny Diskin sat down across from him.
“Let me guess,” he said. “Andi.”
Jeff smiled. “Yeah,” he admitted.
“They won,” Danny said, causing Jeff to look up sharply from his phone.
“How’d you know?” he asked.
Danny grinned. “I have a source inside the team.”
“Who?” Danny asked.
“Not telling.”
Then it hit Jeff. “Eleanor,” he said with what was undoubtedly a smug smile. “I see you talking to her every chance you get.”
Danny shrugged. “Just means I’ve got good taste.”
“Did her text mention how bad Haverford was?”
“Matter of fact it did. She said even their coach couldn’t screw this one up.”
Jeff burst out laughing. “That’s what Andi said!”
Then Jeff went back to responding to Andi. Congrats. A win is a win, right? We got crushed. They had a kid named Michael Jordan—seriously—who might be the next MJ.
She sent back a smiley face.
Jeff was trying to think of a response when Danny looked up again.
“Hey, lover boy, Eleanor says you should ask Andi to go to the movies with us on Saturday.”
Danny had started calling Jeff lover boy during soccer season when it had become clear that he had a crush on Andi.
Jeff didn’t think that was a great idea. Fortunately, he had a built-in excuse. “St. Joseph’s is playing North Carolina in the Palestra Saturday. I’m going with my dad.”
“Okay.” Danny nodded. “Maybe we’ll do it sometime later in winter recess.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” Jeff said.
It did sound good. Whether he could actually make it happen was an entirely different story.