Sink it Rusty (4 page)

They decided on “The Lakers.”

When game time arrived Saturday afternoon, Rusty was certain that Alec would not let him play. All he had sunk during that
week of basketball practice were two baskets for a total of four points.

Several fathers drove their cars to the game at Benton, four miles away from Cannerville. The Lakers looked sharp and eager
in their blue and red uniforms. The Benton Braves were flashy in their green ones.

The game started. The Braves took the tap from center. They dribbled quickly and surely. Their passes were swift and accurate.
Within thirty seconds they sank
the first basket. Before the minute was up, they sank another.

Rusty watched the game from the bench. The Braves looked as courageous as their name suggested. By the end of the first quarter
they were leading, 17 to 9.

Rusty noticed how much more action there was in this game than the ones they had played in the barn. It frightened him. How
could he, slow as he was, play with such fast players? He wouldn't have a chance!

And then he heard his name. He turned, his heart beating rapidly.

“Rusty! Report to the ref! Tell him you're going in in place of Mark!”

R
USTY
played forward with Joby. Corny Moon and Bud Farris played guard. Jim Bush was at center. He was taking Perry's place.

It was the Lakers' out near their own basket. Corny passed the ball from out of bounds to Bud. Bud dribbled a couple of steps
and shot a quick pass to Joby, who was running toward the basket. Joby caught the ball and leaped. A Braves man jumped, slapped
the ball, and it squirted from Joby's hands.

Rusty caught it!

What shall I do with it?
he thought,
standing as if paralyzed. The ball had bounced to him unexpectedly.

“Shoot, Rusty! Shoot!” someone yelled.

He was near the corner, just about in the same position from where he had practiced taking shots at home and in the big barn.

A Braves player bounded forward. He swung his arms wildly in front of Rusty. Rusty tried to feint to the left, and then to
the right. The player bobbed up and down in front of him like a puppet.

Rusty leaped as high as he could, and that wasn't high. He flipped the ball with his wrists toward the basket. It sailed in
a high arc, struck the rim, and bounced up into the air. Then it dropped — right through the net!

A roar burst from the Lakers fans. “Thataboy, Rusty!”

Rusty's heart melted. All at once his fright was gone. He had done it. He had made his first basket in a real game.

The Braves' ball. They moved it down-court quickly. Rusty trotted after them. He tried to hurry and felt his toes scraping
the floor. Those legs! You'd think they were against anything he wanted to do!

The Braves player shot a pass across the court. Another Braves player caught it, feinted Corny Moon out of position, then
broke fast for the basket. Just as he leaped to try a lay-up, Bud hit his wrist.

Freeeee-e-et!

“Two shots!” said the referee. He held up two fingers, Bud's number.

Bud shook his head discouragingly. He held up his hand to show he was the offender.

The Braves man sank the first shot, missed the second. Jim Bush caught the rebound, zipped a pass to Bud. Bud dribbled the
ball up-court. He bounce-passed to Rusty. Rusty passed it back to him, then hurried to his corner spot. He hoped the ball
would be passed to him. But his man guarded him well. No one dared to pass it.

Corny tried a set shot from the opposite corner. He missed. Jim and the Braves center leaped for the rebound. They both came
down together with the ball gripped tightly in their hands.

Freeee-e-et!
Jump ball.

A Braves man took the tap, passed to a teammate. Once again the ball zipped quickly in the other direction. Just as Rusty
let out a sigh of disappointment, a player accidentally kicked his right foot.
The player was Rusty's man. He stumbled forward, but regained his balance hurriedly.

The kick knocked Rusty off balance, too. Rusty fell. He struck the floor with his hip, then skidded and rolled over.

Again the whistle.

“Tripping!” shouted the referee, pointing at the Braves player. “You shoot one!” he said to Rusty.

Rusty stared, wide-eyed, as he rose to his feet.

The Braves players shouted something at the referee. They didn't like that call.

“Hurt, Rusty?” Joby asked, running forward.

“No. I'm all right,” said Rusty.
I wouldn't call that a foul, though. It was an accident
.

He stepped to the free-throw line, and rubbed his hip.

The referee waited till the players were ready on each side of the free-throw lane, then handed the ball to Rusty. “One shot,”
he repeated.

Nervously, Rusty took the ball. He bounced it a few times, then looked long and carefully at the basket. A hushed silence
fell upon the big gym.

Rusty shot. The ball hit the rim, rolled around it, and fell off!

A half a dozen pairs of hands reached up for the rebound. Jim Bush got it. In the next instant someone knocked it out of his
hands. It bounced across the floor. Rusty hurried after it, scooped it up. A tall, broad-shouldered Braves player reached
it a moment later. He wrapped his arm
around the ball and tried to whip it out of Rusty's hands.

Rusty held on as tightly as he could. The Braves player was strong. He practically picked Rusty off his feet and swung him
around the floor! Rusty fell, but he still held on to the ball. The Braves player bent on one knee beside Rusty, and looked
at Rusty unbelievingly.

The Lakers fans roared out in laughter: “That's the boy, Rusty! Don't let him take it from you!”

Jump ball. The Braves player won his argument this time. He outjumped Rusty easily. Ten seconds later the Braves scored a
basket. The buzzer sounded. Mark and Perry came back into the game. Rusty and Jim went out.

They sat on the bench beside Coach
Alec Daws. Their faces glistened with perspiration.

“How do you feel, Rusty?” asked Alec.

Rusty's chest rose and fell as he breathed. “Okay!” he said.

Alec grinned. “You did fine,” he said. “In the second half, we'll let you go in again.”

Rusty smiled. “Thank you!”

“But keep out of those scrambles,” warned Alec. “Get in one intentionally, and you're out. Remember that!”

Rusty nodded. A little while later the buzzer sounded, ending the first half.

T
HE
score was 26–19, in favor of the Braves, as the second half started. Rusty was impressed by Perry. He watched Perry's every
move. There was no doubt that Perry was the best player on the Lakers team. Perhaps, at this moment, the best player on the
floor.

Thoughts ran through Rusty's mind as he watched Perry catch passes, make fast breaks, and leap for lay-ups. Perry went up
high, as if he had springs in his legs.

Maybe I could have been like him, thought Rusty. If the disease hadn't struck
me, I might be out there on the floor this very minute, running and dribbling and shooting, just as Perry is doing.

It was funny how polio could change a person.
I'm well now. Yet I'm not well. I feel healthy and strong, yet I cannot do the many things other boys
my
age can do
.

His stomach tightened into a knot.

He'd never be like those other boys again. Never.

A loud cheer from the Lakers fans brought Rusty's thoughts back to the game. He saw Corny running up-court with a proud smile
on his face, and knew Corny must have sunk one.

The electric scoreboard flashed the score:
VISITORS
— 21;
HOME
— 26.

The gap was closing.

“Okay, Rusty,” said Alec. “Go in the
minute the ball is dead. Remember, don't rush. Keep out when there's a scramble for the ball. Ted, in for Bud.”

Rusty wished Alec wouldn't warn him all the time.
He treats me as if I'm a little boy of four or five. I don't want pity! I can take care of myself!

When he got into the game he remembered Alec's warning. He didn't want to do anything against Alec's wishes, anything that
would give Alec a good reason not to let him play again.

Rusty played the corner. He didn't expect any more than a pass or two.

At last, the first one came. It was from Ted Stone, who was being pressed by two Braves players.

Rusty caught the pass, aimed for the basket, and shot.

In!

A thunderous roar sprang from the Lakers fans. “Nice eye, Rusty! That's the way to sink 'em!”

Later, there was a scramble for the ball near him. It was impossible for him to get out of the way, so he tried for the ball
himself. He was pushed, shoved, and almost got his hands on the ball. A quicker pair of hands snapped it up. Hands belonging
to a Braves player.

I would've had it if I weren't so slow!

The quarter ended. Alec put Mark back into the game. Rusty sat out the last quarter, not caring whether he went in again or
not. He was pooped. When the game ended, the shower was a welcome, joyful relief. No one was too unhappy that the Braves had
won, 48–41. That was a better score than the Lakers had expected.

“You were great, Rusty!” said Joby, as
they rode home. “Man! How many sinkers?”

“Two field goals,” said Corny. “Nothing wrong with that!”

Rusty blushed. It was good to hear his friends talk that way about him.

The
Cannerville News
printed a brief story about the game on Monday. It also had the box scores. Rusty read it over proudly.

Alec suggested practice at the barn three nights a week — Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. On the Saturday after the Braves
game, the Lakers played the Weston Jets. The Jets beat them, 51 to 42. In that game Rusty sank only one basket.

“That was a big score,” said Alec. “But not too big when you hear what they've been doing to other teams. They beat the Braves
forty-eight to twenty-two. And the Redwings forty-three to nineteen. So you see they have a strong defensive team. Yet we
were able to go through them for forty-two points! I think that's wonderful. You boys deserve a lot of credit.”

On the Saturday before Christmas, the Lakers played the Chilton Chiefs.

“Beat them and you'll have something to cheer about,” said Alec. “They took the
Braves to camp last week, thirty-seven to thirty-five.”

The game was played on a high-school court at Chilton. The seats were nearly filled as the game got underway.

Rusty wasn't surprised he didn't start. He never would start. He was sure of that. He'd be satisfied just to play once in
a while. However, the Chiefs were supposed to be very strong. Perhaps he wouldn't see action in today's game at all.

Bud Farris plunked in the first basket of the game. The Lakers fans cheered him loudly. Then Perry stole a pass intended for
a Chiefs player, broke fast for the basket, and laid it up!

Four points for the Lakers!

The Chiefs, dressed in crimson uniforms with large white numbers on their jerseys, grew cautious. They moved the ball slowly
across the center line toward their basket. The Lakers used a zone defense and protected their goal closely.

Quickly, a Chiefs player passed to a man at his left. The man broke forward. He leaped, holding the ball high over his head.
Instead of shooting for a basket, he passed to another man rushing in. The man caught the pass and leaped for a jump-shot.

In!

A few moments later the Chiefs did it again. Gradually they crept ahead of the Lakers. Perry dumped in two long sets, and
Ted Stone, a lay-up. The Lakers were trying hard, but the Chiefs had control of the game now. They led, 14 to 11, when the
quarter ended.

Rusty started the second quarter in place of Mark Andrews.

“Keep out of the scrambles!” was Alec's warning just before Rusty went in.

“Yes, sir,” murmured Rusty.

He played the corner, but was guarded so closely that not once was he thrown a pass during the first two minutes. Disgusted,
he glanced toward the bench. Of course, no one looked his way. He might as well sit down and watch the game as stand here
like a store dummy.

“Rusty! Wake up!”

He turned just in time. A large blur popped up in front of him. He jerked out his hands and caught the bouncing ball. Like
a swarm of angry hornets, the Chiefs players came after him. He feinted to the left, and then to the right, using his left
foot as a pivot.