Real Hoops by Fred Bowen Read Free Book Online

looking for a good shot. Ben saw a chance for a steal and bolted toward the action. He almost intercepted a pass, but the ball slipped past his fingertips.
    “Help!” Ben shouted as the Panther he was supposed to be guarding drove to the basket.
    Levon stepped into the player’s path just as he tossed up a shot. Levon and the Panther collided and tumbled to the floor.
    Tweeeeeeeet!
    The referee blew his whistle and pointed at Levon. “Blocking foul on Number Fifteen!”
    “Sorry,” Ben said as he reached down and pulled Levon up.
    The horn sounded. The official at the scorer’s table held up five fingers. “That’s five fouls on Number Fifteen.”
    Hud reported to the scorer’s table and went into the game for Levon. Coach George shouted instructions from the sideline. “Simple passes. No French pastry. Just run the offense.”
    The fouled Panther player stepped to the line and calmly hit two free throws. The Raiders trailed by four with two minutes to go, 49–45.
    The teams traded baskets and Roosevelt still trailed by four. One minute to go. Hud took a chance on defense, darting out and tipping the ball away from the Panthers dribbler.
    A pack of players dove for the loose ball. Ben and a Panther player both wrapped their arms around the ball. The referee blew his whistle and looked at the scorer’s table. The possession arrow pointed to the Roosevelt bench.
    Ben pumped his fist as the team cheered.
    “All right!”
    “Comeback time!”
    “Need a basket!”
    In the Raiders’ next possession, Ben curled around a clump of players as Hud dribbled near the foul line. Hud quickly spotted Ben and slipped a pass right off his dribble, getting the ball by the Panthers defense and into Ben’s hands. Ben tossed up a quick shot that rattled around the rim and dropped in. He glanced at the scoreboard as he raced back on defense.

    Two down with 25 seconds to go
, Ben thought. “Tough D!” he shouted, getting down into his defensive stance.
    The Panthers passed the ball around as precious seconds ticked off the clock.
    “Foul him, foul him!” Coach George screamed, waving his arms and jumping off the bench. Ben grabbed the player with the ball.
    “Time out.” Coach George signaled after the referee called the foul on Ben. He gathered the team around him on the sidelines. “Okay, we’ve got one time out left and they’re shooting one-and-one,” the coach said. “If he misses his first shot, get the ball, get it over half-court, and call time out. Then we can set up a play and get a good shot. Let’s go.”
    The Panthers player at the foul line took a deep breath, bent his knees, and sent a shot spinning toward the hoop. “Short!” he shouted. The ball clanked off the front rim.
    Logan got the rebound and tossed a pass to Ben, who dribbled quickly downcourt. “Time out!” he shouted the moment his feet passed the half-court line.
    Back on the sidelines, the Raiders formed a tight circle around Coach George as he diagrammed the final play on his clipboard.

    “Hud will look for Ben with a two-point shot,” he said, pointing at the play. “Take the shot as soon as you can, Ben. Logan, Andrew, and everybody else hit the boards, just in case he misses.”
    Ben felt his heart pump faster as he walked back onto the court. He lined upexactly where he was supposed to and ran the play just as Coach George had directed. But when he looked back for the pass from Hud, it wasn’t there. Hud looked at Ben, but instead of passing, he dribbled to his left, beyond the three-point line—and launched a long jump shot.
    That’s not the play
, Ben thought. He raced toward the basket, desperately hoping for a rebound. Then he watched the ball float through the air, almost in slow motion.
    “No!” Coach George bellowed from the bench.
    The ball didn’t even touch the rim. It splashed though the net, barely moving the strings. A perfect swish!
    “Yes!” Ben cried.
    The Roosevelt Raiders mobbed Hud in the middle of the