Hoop Crazy (8 page)

“Turn around and shoot it,” I said.

He spun on one foot and threw up the ball. It hit the backboard, missing the rim completely.

“That wasn't too bad,” I said and Ned smiled.

I went after the rebound and brought it back, the ball ‘pinging' off the pavement as I bounced it.

“I want you to try something else. I'm going to fire the ball to you. I want you to pretend to shoot, but instead fire it back out to me.”

“Chest pass or bounce pass?” he asked.

“You decide.”

I lobbed in a high pass to Ned. He spun around and made an awkward-looking fake shot and then threw the ball out to me. I put up a long three-point shot, which sailed into the net.

“Nice shot!” Ned said. “I wish I could do that.”

“I wish I could do it more often. You've got to remember that I've been playing for a lot longer than three days.”

“I'll remember. Do you think we can go over and see Mark tomorrow?”

“Maybe. It depends on how much work we get done tomorrow.”

“Work? What sort of work?”

“Unless you think you've already mastered all you need to know for the tournament.”

“The tournament? You mean we're going to still enter the contest?”

“We might as well. We've already paid the entry fee so we might as well go … if that's okay with you.”

“I'd like that a lot. I just hope I don't embarrass everybody too much.”

“So do I,” I said. “But we still have two days to work with you … and I guess three nights. There's one more play I want to show you tonight before we go back to bed.”

“So let me get this straight,” Kia said. “Suddenly you think that we can make Ned into a basketball player.”

“I'm not saying a
good
basketball player. I'm just saying a basketball player.”

“He's pathetic.”

“Keep it down,” I said. “You don't want him to hear. You might hurt his feelings.”

“Since when are you worried about hurting Ned's feelings?” Kia asked.

“Since … well … you make it sound like I'm a mean person.”

“You're not,” she said. “To anybody except Ned.”

“Well, now I'm going to nice to everybody, including Ned.”

“Does this have anything to do with the fact that we need him or we can't be in the tournament?”

“Maybe a little, but it's just … just … I don't know … I feel sort of … he isn't a bad guy, you know.”

Kia shrugged. “I never thought he was. I just thought he was a bad basketball player, and that's a problem.”

“We still have two days to work with him and I showed him some things last night.”

“You were practicing without me?” she asked.

“It was late and I didn't want to wake you up.”

Kia gave me a questioning look.

“Really late. Let me show you.” I turned to Ned. “Let's run the special play,” I said.

Ned nodded and gave me a goofy smile. He ran out to high post and put his hands high in the air. I threw up a soft high pass. It didn't have to be hard because nobody we'd be playing would be able to reach that high anyway.

He grabbed the ball and threw it right back to me. As soon as he let go of the ball, he slid down the key to the low post position. I tossed another lob pass to him, he turned and clanked it off the backboard, hitting the rim and bouncing away.

“Except for the end, that wasn't bad,” Kia said.

“Nobody gets everything in the net,” I said, de
fending Ned. “We call it the Monarch.”

“The Monarch?”

“Like the butterfly,” Ned explained. “I spread my wings up high and then I migrated down the key from high to low post.”

Kia gave me the strangest look.

“It wasn't my idea, but it works,” I said. “Let's just concentrate on a few plays, nothing too fancy.”

“And do things with screens,” Ned suggested. “I'm really good with screens.”

“Since that only involves standing around and being big, you're a natural,” Kia joked.

“That's what Nick said too!”

“Okay, we'll build in a bunch of screen plays,” I said.

“Thanks,” Ned said. “Thanks a lot … both of you. I'll try not to let you down.”

“I don't know about you two but I need a drink,” I said.

“Me too,” Kia agreed.

“I'm going to stay out and practice,” Ned said.

Kia and I sat down in a shady spot just off to the side. There was already a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses waiting for us. As we poured the drinks we watched Ned. He was taking up a spot on the low post on the left side. He threw up a ball. It
missed. He went and got it and awkwardly dribbled back to the same position. He put up the ball again. Again it missed.

“He certainly is persistent,” Kia said.

“You have no idea,” I said.

Kia knew we'd been practicing late last night, but I hadn't told her how late or for how long. She would have thought we were crazy. She would have thought I was crazy.

Ned had retrieved the ball again. He put it up and it dropped!

Kia started clapping and I joined in. Ned looked over and smiled at us.

“Do you think we have any chance whatsoever in the tournament?” Kia asked.

“Sure. I think we have two chances. Slim and none. But it beats not being able to play at all. It might even be more fun this way,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“Before, when it was you and me and Mark and Jordan, there was pressure. Like we were supposed to do well.”

“We would have done great!” Kia said.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But everybody expected us to do well. Now? Nobody expects anything out of us, so we can just have fun. We could watch other games, or participate in some sort of the activities, like two-ball, or other contests.”

“I never thought of that,” Kia said.

“We can relax and have a good time.”

“You're never relaxed about basketball,” Kia said.

“I know, but I am about this. Not having a chance makes things easier.”

“Still, it would be nice to win a game, or at least not lose badly.”

“It could happen,” I said.

“Do you think so?”

“Not really, but it could. Depends how bad the other teams are. Besides, miracles do happen.”

We sipped from our drinks and watched as Ned continued to work on his shot.

“You wouldn't mind if I tried to figure out how we could win, would you?” Kia asked.

“Be my guest.”

I took another big sip from my drink.

“You know what we could fix?” Kia asked.

“Lots of things.”

“We could make Ned look more like a basketball player,” she said.

“I thought we were trying to do that.”

“No, no, we're trying to teach him to act like a basketball player. I think he should
look
more like one. I think he needs a fashion make-over.”

“What did you have in mind?” I asked.

“Look at him. The shorts, shirt, shoes, hair, glasses.”

I looked at Ned. Of course she was right. He looked less like a basketball player than anybody I'd ever seen on a court.

“Could you lend him one of your basketball shirts?” Kia said.

“I could, but it wouldn't fit him,” I said. “But my father has a couple of jerseys.”

“That would be great. And what size shoes does your father wear?”

“Eleven.”

“Do you know what size Ned takes?”

“About the same, I think.”

“Can he borrow a pair of your father's shoes?”

“Why not? He wouldn't mind.”

“And he needs a headband, something to stop his hair from sticking in every direction, and I was thinking we could do something about those shorts and —”

“The socks,” I said, cutting her off. “We definitely have to do something about those socks.”

“Exactly,” Kia said. “Hey, Ned! Come here, we have a couple of ideas.”

He trotted over enthusiastically.

“Well?” Kia asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess we'll soon find out.”

“Hurry up, Ned!” Kia called through the closed washroom door.

Almost instantly the door opened.

“Wow!” Kia exclaimed.

“Do I look alright?” Ned asked.

“You look like a ball player,” I said.

His T-shirt had been replaced by one of my father's jerseys. It fit pretty good. On his head, holding his hair back was a headband. Kia had taken a pair of scissors to his shorts and ‘modified' them so they looked quite funky. He had on a pair of white basketball socks and on his feet were a pair of my father's high-topped basketball shoes.

“How are the shoes?” I asked.

“A little bit too big, but they feel pretty light, and sort of bouncy,” he said, moving up on his tiptoes and rocking up and down.

“They're designed to be that way. Let's go outside and check them out.”

Ned practically ran down the hall and out the door. We trailed after him. He was already on the driveway and he was bouncing up and down.

“These are amazing!” he yelled as he continued to jump around.

I couldn't help but laugh. It was funny watching him, sort of like watching a puppy dog prancing around and chasing after a butterfly — maybe a monarch butterfly.

“So what do you think, Kia?”

She put a hand under her chin and studied him from top to bottom, nodding her head.

“He does look like a player … except for the glasses.”

She had a point. They didn't fit the image.

“Ned!” Kia called out. “Do you need those glasses?”

“I can't read without them.”

“But can you see without them?” she asked.

“Some things, but I can't see up close without them.”

“Take them off,” she said.

He pulled them off his face.

“Can you see the net?” she asked.

He looked over, turned back and nodded his head.