Read Long Shot for Paul Online
Authors: Matt Christopher
Long Shot for Paul
Copyright © 1996 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
Copyright © renewed 1995, by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of
1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval
system, without the prior written
permission of the publisher.
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10017
Visit our website at
www.HachetteBookGroup.com
First eBook Edition: December 2009
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real
persons, living or dead, is coincidental and
not intended by the author.
Matt Christopher® is a registered trademark of
Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
ISBN: 978-0-316-09575-4
To John, Ann Marie, Tina Rose,
Christopher and Russell
Contents
The #1 Sports Series for Kids: MATT CHRISTOPHER
®
T
hey were in the driveway — Glenn, Judy, and Paul — throwing the basketball to each other.
Glenn saw that Paul caught the passes fairly well, but that he missed the hard ones. He would have to improve on his catching.
The guys on the Sabers team threw the ball really hard at times. You had to in a game. And, if Paul didn’t learn to catch
hard passes, as well as throw them, he might
never
be able to play with the Sabers.
Just then Paul caught a pass that Judy had thrown far to his left. It seemed to surprise
even Paul. His eyes popped wide, his mouth dropped open, and he laughed.
“What do you think of
that
catch?” he cried.
“Nice, Paul!” Glenn shouted, breaking into a laugh too. “Just keep your eyes on the ball!”
Paul played volleyball at Moreland, the school for special needs children that he attended. That was why he was able to catch
a ball fairly well. But Moreland did not have a basketball court. Paul had never played basketball, except here at home where
he played most often by himself and with Glenn. Dad had built the backboard onto the garage only last week. It was then that
Glenn had decided to teach Paul to really play the game. It would help Paul a lot to make friends, something he had too few
of.
Paul played mostly by himself, except when Glenn and Judy played with him. He even played with Judy’s dolls sometimes.
“You don’t want to be a sissy, do you?” Glenn had once asked him. “Dolls are for girls, not guys.”
Paul had looked at him with hurt in his eyes, and Glenn was sorry he’d said anything. He realized it would be wrong to make
Paul give up something he enjoyed.
They had learned Paul was developmentally disabled a long time ago, when Mom had taken Paul to a doctor to find out why he
was so slow in learning anything. The news had struck Mom and Dad hard. Mom didn’t want to believe it for a while. She thought
the doctor was wrong. So they had another doctor examine Paul and this doctor said the same thing that the first one did.
After that things had become different
around the place. For example, Judy used to yell at Paul for something he had done and he’d get so mad he’d run to her room,
pick up her reading book, and tear out some of its pages. Glenn used to yell at him for doing things now and then too, such
as taking that special model destroyer of Glenn’s without asking for it. Paul took this model, which was never meant to touch
water, and set it afloat in the tub.
Another time Paul had scrawled with colored crayon on the pages of one of Glenn’s schoolbooks. Asked why he had done it, he
just shrugged. So Glenn yelled at him, and Mom yelled at him, and Dad was on the verge of putting him across his knees.
After they had learned about Paul, Mom and Dad and Glenn and Judy didn’t shout at him as they used to. They had learned that
Paul had to be specially taught to do things. He had to be taught discipline, good behavior,
and manners. Everything had to be taught to Paul carefully and with understanding. For a long while things were pretty hectic
around home.
Between Moreland School and home, Paul had come along pretty well. He was thirteen now, and he was doing second-grade reading
and arithmetic.
After the idea had occurred to Glenn to teach Paul to play basketball, he had mentioned it to Judy. She thought it was great.
So without saying a thing to Mom, they had gone outside and started playing.
A chuckle sounded behind them. Glenn turned and saw Don Marshang and Andy Searles peering over the fence.
“Those two rookies going to play with us, Glenn?” Don wisecracked. “Or just Judy?”
“Just make sure you do all right, Mr. Marshang!” Judy answered before Glenn had a
chance to. “Or maybe a rookie
will
take your place!”
“That’ll be the day,” Don said, and laughed. “Anyway, for a girl you throw pretty well, Judy. Too bad we can’t have girls
on the team.”
“You’re lucky you can’t,” Judy shot back, and looped the ball to Glenn. Glenn tossed it easily to Paul and hoped with all
his heart that Paul would catch it. Paul did.
“Thataway, Paul!” Don cried. “Maybe another ten years and you’ll be able to make the team!” With that, Don and Andy left.
Paul’s face flushed. He gripped the ball tightly with both arms and looked sternly at Don’s retreating back. “He’s one guy
I don’t like,” he muttered softly.
Judy scowled after them. “The old loudmouth,” she said angrily. “Boy, would I like to see Paul make the team. What that loudmouth
would say then!”
“Oh, Don’s okay,” Glenn said. “He just wants to be a leader in everything.”
Glenn saw Mom peering through the screen door of the back porch. He grinned and waved to her. She waved back, but kept staring
as if she were looking at something very strange.
“Okay. Let’s shoot baskets for a while,” Glenn suggested. “Throw it here, Paul. Watch how I do it.”
“Okay.” Paul’s face brightened, as if he were glad to do something different for a change. He passed the ball to Glenn. Glenn
stood in front of the basket, bounced the ball a couple of times, then shot. The first throw hit the backboard above the rim
and bounced off. The second bounced back and into the net.
“Now you try it, Paul.”
Glenn handed Paul the ball. Eagerly, Paul took aim and shot. The ball struck the rim,
bounced off. “Oh! Missed!” he said. He tried again. This time it didn’t reach as high as the rim.
“Throw it higher, Paul!” cried Glenn.
“Easy, Glenn,” cautioned Judy. “You don’t have to shout at him. Show him again.”
Glenn showed Paul again how to stand at the foul line and shoot. He tried hard to shoot like Glenn, and little by little his
throws improved.
“Thataboy, Paul!” said Glenn, smiling. “You’re coming! Slow but sure!”
“I’m sinking most of them, Glenn!” Paul cried proudly. “Were you counting?”
Glenn grinned. “No, but you’re doing a lot better, Paul. A lot better. Okay, let’s quit. We’ll practice every day. Okay? You
would like to play basketball with the Sabers, wouldn’t you, Paul?”
Paul’s eyes brightened. “You bet!”
“Just keep practicing and you will,” Glenn said.
Paul ran into the house, shouting, “Mom! Hey, Mom! Glenn and Judy are teaching me to play basketball! I’m going to play with
the Sabers!”
Mom smiled and squeezed him to her, then looked at his sister and brother with a question in her eyes.
“What’s going on?” she demanded softly when Paul was out of the room. “What’s up those sleeves of yours?”
Judy grinned. “It’s Glenn’s idea, Mom. We’re going to teach Paul to play basketball.”
“Oh, you are?”
Glenn was grinning, too. “Basketball is good exercise, Mom. And Paul will meet a lot of guys if he plays with the Sabers.
He won’t just have to sit and make models and draw”
Mom’s eyes grew misty. She put an arm around Glenn’s shoulder. “It would do him good to get out and associate with boys more,”
she agreed. “He needs friends. But I don’t know. It will take patience, that idea of yours. Plenty of patience.”
“We know, Mom,” Judy said, her eyes big and bright as plums. “But don’t you think Paul can learn? Don’t you really think so?
That is, if we really worked with him every day?”
Mom seemed to think it over a bit, then nodded. “Of course, he can. But don’t get discouraged if he takes a long time at it.
Basketball is no easy game to learn, you know.”
G
lenn’s big worry was Coach Frank Munson of the Sabers. Mr. Munson was about the toughest coach in the league. You obeyed him,
or else. You hustled, or else. He wasn’t going to let anyone play who didn’t do his best every minute.
Last year the Sabers had finished in fifth place. You’d think the coach would have been so angry he might not want to coach
anymore. But he wasn’t. As a matter of fact, he had praised every member of the team for having done a good job.
“Most of you were green this year,” he had said. “That’s why we ended next to the cellar. Next year you’ll do better. You’ll
see. We’ll climb that ladder and maybe land on top of the heap. Just play hard, and do your best. That’s all I ask.”
Glenn had been one of the green ones Mr. Munson had referred to. He was still a poor passer. He had a lot to learn about basketball
himself. Probably it was crazy to think that he could teach Paul basketball well enough for Paul to get on the team. If Mr.
Munson wanted kids on his team who played hard every minute, what chance would Paul have? Hardly any. Maybe he should give
up the idea before it was too late — before Paul might get discouraged and really become unhappy.
He mentioned this to Judy later in the evening. And right away he knew that he should not have. Her eyes flashed daggers
and her lips pursed and he knew that he had just lit the fuse of a keg of dynamite.
“Oh, no, you’re not going to give up now, Mr. Glenn Foster Marlette!” she exploded. “It was your idea, and it’s a good one,
and you and I are going to stick it out if it takes till doomsday. You hear me? Till doomsday!”
Glenn stepped back as if she might slug him. “Okay, okay,” he stammered. “I was just saying it, anyway.”
Her eyes quit flashing. Her lips smoothed out and curved into a warm smile.
“That’s better, Glenn,” she said sweetly. “Matter of fact, I knew you were just talking.”
They had two weeks and three days to practice. The regular playing season began on Tuesday, November 30, according to the
schedule Coach Munson had given the boys. The Sabers, as well as the other teams in the league, had already started practicing
at the Recreation Hall. Games were to be played there and at the school gym.
The first week drifted by, and still Glenn didn’t take Paul to the Recreation Hall to practice with the team. He wanted Paul
to learn all he could about basketball at home. Even Dad worked out with them. He and Judy played against Paul and Glenn so
that Paul would get the feel of competition. It wasn’t much, but Glenn could see that Paul was enjoying it more than just
throwing the ball back and forth and shooting at the basket.
With the opening game of the league exactly a week away, Glenn took Paul with him to the Recreation Hall. Paul took his sneakers,
but Glenn was worried that Paul might not be given a uniform. The minute the coach heard that Paul had never played basketball
before, he might tell Paul to go
home and not waste anybody’s time here. You just never knew what he might say.
The team dressed in the locker room. Paul followed Glenn like a shadow, and the guys looked at Paul as if he were someone
from another planet.
They dressed in their gold, silver-trimmed uniforms, then went upstairs to the gym. Glenn’s number was 12.
“Am I going to get a uniform, Glenn?” Paul asked anxiously.
“Hang on awhile,” said Glenn. “I’m not sure yet. Maybe the coach doesn’t have an extra one.”
Boy! What a time to think about that now!
Coach Munson was already on the floor, throwing shots at the basket with Don Marshang and Andy Searles.
“About time you guys got around,” he snapped as the rest of the team came
running in from the basement doorway. He glanced at Paul, and frowned.
“You,” he said, pointing a finger at him. “Come here a minute.”
Paul, looking suddenly scared, started slowly toward him.
“Hurry! Hurry!” The coach’s voice snapped like a whip.
Paul broke into a run then and stopped in front of the coach. Glenn reached Paul’s side in time to hear the coach ask, “Aren’t
you Glenn’s brother?”