Chapter 3
Right before the start of the second half, Coach Turnbull stood in front of his team’s bench. The players were all seated or standing around.
“Great job in the first half, guys,” the coach said. “Dwayne, how are you feeling? Up for starting the second half?”
“I feel great, Coach T,” Dwayne replied. “Man, I could play these fools into the ground all day.” He laughed.
“I know it,” the coach said. “Same five, then. Huddle up.”
The five starters stood around the coach and leaned in.
“On three, ‘Wildcats,’” the coach said. “One, two, three . . .”
And the five starters shouted: “Wildcats!”
The huddle broke, and the guys took the court.
“Just a second, Harris,” Coach Turnbull said.
PJ turned and jogged back to the coach. “Don’t you want me in again, Coach?”
The coach nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Your hustle is great today. You’re really giving that Jaguars center a hard time.”
“Thanks, Coach T,” PJ said.
“Just be careful. Don’t be too rough,” the coach added. “I don’t want you to get in trouble out there.”
PJ nodded. “You got it, Coach,” he said. Then he went to the sideline.
The ref blew his whistle, then handed the Jaguars center the ball. The Jaguars center threw it in to one of his teammates. No matter what PJ did, he couldn’t reach the ball.
The fans in the visitor bleachers cheered. PJ shook his head and ran up the court. He picked up his man at the baseline and tried to keep him out of rebound position.
The Jaguars shooting guard took a shot from just inside the three-point line, and it swished. No rebound required. The game was tied.
The second half was tiring. PJ’s man was playing very hard and very rough.
While PJ played, he watched his teammates. Each of them was playing his hardest. Every point they scored was fought for, and every drive they stopped was even tougher.
As the clock ticked down, the score stayed painfully close. With only a few seconds left on the clock, the Wildcats were down by one point.
Isaac Roth, a Wildcats point guard, held the ball for an instant at the top of the key. PJ stepped in front of his defender and cut hard under the basket.
It was just enough time for Isaac to connect with PJ, who caught the pass on the way up to the basket.
Suddenly he felt a strong arm across his throat and shoulders. The next thing he knew, the ball was bouncing slowly toward the bleachers, and his butt was on the wood.
A whistle blew. “That’s two,” the ref shouted.
PJ looked up at the scoreboard. The Wildcats were still down by one, and he had two chances to tie it up, or even win.