A Game Worth Watching (33 page)

Every
dribble, every shot, every player mattered. Evergreen didn’t merely want to
beat Bradshaw, they wanted to leave them on the court, battered and broken. The
home court advantage couldn’t ward off every swinging elbow or strategically
placed foot. If Bradshaw wanted to win—if they wanted to
survive—they had to fight. Thank goodness for the guys and Saturday
practices.

Maybe
it was Emma’s leadership, maybe it was a newfound burst of energy, or maybe it
was refusing to spend another year as the worst team in the league, but
Bradshaw finally found their game. Their shots started falling, they managed to
block out under the basket and get their hands on the rebounds, and they
stopped getting beat on defense. Despite the pressure, Emma started to relax.
Maybe Bradshaw did have a chance to win with Emma as coach.

Whether
Bradshaw won or lost, Emma should have known they would not survive the night
unscathed.

Bradshaw
executed their offense perfectly. Lauren slid down the side of the key to set a
screen for Shiloh. Emma bounce-passed the ball to Shiloh at the free-throw line
and went to set a screen for Madison on the wing at the same time Lauren popped
outside for the pass from Shiloh. Madison sprinted to the top of the key to
catch the pass from Lauren as Shiloh resumed her original position under the
basket. Madison shot the ball and followed it to the basket, ready for the long
rebound.

Emma
watched Madison jump into the air, secure the ball between her hands, and let
gravity bring her back down to the court. Instead of powering up for another
shot, Madison crumpled to the ground with a scream.

Emma
cringed.

The
shrill of a whistle stopped the clock and the game. Emma didn’t know what to do
except crouch beside Madison and put a consoling hand on her shoulder as
Madison clutched her leg and cried. Just because Emma had the title of coach
hovering over her head didn’t mean she knew anything about injuries and comfort
and snatching back time for a do-over.

Bradshaw’s
trainer hustled over from the sideline and kneeled beside Emma to assess the
situation. “What hurts?” he asked.

“Ankle,”
Madison gasped, tears streaming down her face.

“Can
you stand?” the trainer asked.

Madison
shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

The
trainer exchanged a look with Emma. “Help me get her to the bench.”

They
carried Madison off the court to the sound of applause and set her on the
bleachers so the trainer could do his thing. Emma watched the situation and
couldn’t prevent the guilt from building inside her. Did all coaches feel
personally responsible when one of their players went down? Not wanting to
dwell on Madison’s injury, Emma took a step back. She had a team to coach.

“Emma,”
Madison whimpered, grabbing Emma’s wrist as she turned to leave. “Emma, I am so
sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“You
played great basketball, that’s what happened.” Emma squeezed Madison’s
shoulder.

Emma
turned back to the court—turned back to her six remaining teammates
staring at her, waiting for the plan. What do you say to a team who just
watched one of their starters be carried off the court? They all knew Madison
wouldn’t rejoin them tonight, so what could Emma say to motivate them?

It
wasn’t supposed to be this way. Jen Knowles wasn’t supposed to abandon them,
Madison wasn’t supposed to be on the bench with an injury, and Emma wasn’t
supposed to be in charge of the fate of an entire team.

“What
do we do now?” Steph asked.

Emma
covered her face with her hands and tried to crease the fear from her eyes. Her
teammates waited, so she plunged ahead with plan B, making it up as she went.
She dropped her hands from her face and took a deep breath. “Ashley, go check
in.”

The
kid looked at her like she’d just been asked to go to war without a weapon.
During the first half, Ashley had played a total of two minutes. Maybe. The kid
had every reason to be afraid since Coach Knowles hadn’t had enough faith to
put her in a game for any extended period of time all season. But Emma wasn’t
Coach Knowles. As a coach—as a player—she needed Ashley on the
court with her, not watching from the bench.

Emma
nodded toward the sidelines. “It’ll be fine. Go on.”

Ashley
scampered off to check in. As soon as she was out of hearing range, Lauren spun
on Emma. “Are you crazy? You put that disaster in and we’ll lose for sure.”

The
rest of the team nodded in agreement, ready to throw in their protests.

After
everything that had happened, Emma didn’t need any more drama. She mustered
what little strength she had left, pretended it was so much more, and
confronted her teammates. “You guys put me in charge to coach this team, so
listen up. Ashley’s ready for this. She’s a lot better than you give her credit
for, and we need her if we’re going to have any shot at winning tonight. She is
part of this team, probably dealing with more fear than all of us put together,
and she needs our support, you got it?” Emma looked into the faces of her
teammates, ready to challenge anyone who opposed her. One by one they nodded,
probably going against their instincts to trust her.

As
if to mock Emma, Ashley tripped as she rejoined their huddle. A few of the
girls rolled their eyes, but Lauren caught Ashley before she face-planted and
set her back on her feet. “You can do this, freshman,” Lauren said, slapping
her on the back.

The
ref blew the whistle and both teams ended their huddles and filtered back onto
the court.

Shiloh
accepted the ball from the ref as Bradshaw stacked up for the inbounds pass.
She slapped the ball and the line split. Emma broke free and caught Shiloh’s
pass. She pivoted toward the basket and secured the ball at her hip in triple
threat position. Emma took a deep breath before dribbling slowly downcourt,
waiting for her teammates to set up on offense.

“You
must be under a lot of pressure as the coach and all,” Emma’s defender said as
Emma crossed mid-court with the ball. It was the same girl who had defended her
in their first game against Evergreen, Valerie Hockus. “I hope you don’t choke
and cost your team the game, especially considering you already have one
injured player on your record.”

Maybe
it was the heightened sense of responsibility that came with being a coach or
maybe it was the past-due decision to stand up for herself, but Emma felt a
smile grow on her lips. “I hope you and your teammates are ready to lose
tonight.”

Valerie’s
face hardened. “Not a chance.”

Emma
squared her shoulders to the basket, locked her eyes on her defender, and put
up a shot without so much as a defensive hand in her face.

The
announcer’s deep voice boomed over the speakers. “Wrangtoooooooooon with a
three.”

“I
wouldn’t be so sure.” Emma skipped backward toward the opposite baseline,
knowing the game was far from over.

Evergreen
may have been the number one team in the league, but they were far from
perfect. The Evergreen coach, perhaps sensing Bradshaw’s desire to win, became
more vocal and more animated with every second that passed. He paced the
sideline, tracking the ball with his beady eyes and waving his arms frantically
at his players. His shouts could be heard throughout the gym as he yelled at
his players, yelled at the refs, and yelled simply for the sake of being heard.

Evergreen
started to falter.

Evergreen’s
number thirty-seven had the ball just inside the three-point line. She’d given
up her dribble and stood cemented to the same spot on the floor. She should
have passed to an open player, but with Peyton’s arms swinging wildly in front
of her face, the girl panicked. She chucked up an air ball.

Shiloh
snatched the ball out of the air and fired an outlet pass to Ashley at
midcourt. Emma swept up the court from the outside lane and it was two-on-one.

Ashley
dribbled downcourt, and the Evergreen defender remained halfway between her and
Emma until she determined who would take the shot. She probably figured Emma
would get the ball to shoot and didn’t commit to Ashley until the kid put her
head down and charged to the basket. The kid initiated a layup, but instead of
bouncing the ball off the backboard like everyone expected, she underhanded a
pass to Emma. Without missing a beat, Emma caught the ball and put up a short
jumper.

Shouts
erupted from the stands as the ball fell through the hoop and Evergreen set up on
offense. Emma pointed to Ashley from across the court and they exchanged
smiles. After all the hours they’d spent together in the gym, Emma had to
admit, the kid was
good
.

By
the end of the third quarter, Ashley proved to be a new problem for Evergreen.
She spun off defenders before they had a chance to crush her and plunged into
the key against girls twice her size, only to pop out the other side unscathed
with her hands up and ready for the ball. Sometimes it only took one dribble,
sometimes a few more, for the kid to find a hole in the defense and fire off a
shot or pass the ball to an open player. Her size allowed her to slip through
holes in the defense undetected, and with her speed she was always a step or
two ahead of her defender. Thank goodness she wasn’t still tripping over her
feet. Ashley’s newfound talent, along with Shiloh’s rebounding madness,
Lauren’s aggressiveness, and Emma’s knack for coaching in combination with her
playing ability, enabled Bradshaw to close the gap in the score and pull within
ten points by the end of the third quarter. With eight minutes remaining, it
was anybody’s game.

***

The
Evergreen coach probably thought a team entering the fourth quarter down by ten
would explode onto the court to make up the difference in score as soon as
possible. Emma decided to change things up a bit. Evergreen wanted the ball
like kids wanted candy. They wanted to score; they wanted to stretch their lead
as far as possible. Cheap fouls with the intent to cause as much damage as
possible was the game they played, and Emma decided to take advantage of their
desperation. She knew Bradshaw’s passing game was strong, so the fourth quarter
started with one giant game of keep away.

It
worked.

Evergreen,
governed by their frustration, forced the fouls, sending Bradshaw players to
the foul line where they made one basket after another. Point by point, they
continued to close the gap.

The
intensity of the game heightened as the clock ticked below two minutes. Emma
didn’t know what would be worse, being the team down by one needing to secure a
lead or being the team up by one needing to retain the lead. Either way, both
team’s looked for a break.

With
thirty seconds on the clock and down by three, the ref handed Emma the ball
under Evergreen’s basket. She took a deep breath before slapping the ball and
setting her teammates in motion. They broke formation, trying to get open.
Emma’s eyes locked on Lauren’s. Considering they were practically enemies, it
was scary how much passed between them—how their plan formed without
spoken words. Lauren sprinted for the opposite baseline, catching her defender
off guard, as Emma cocked her arm back and threw a baseball pass the length of
the court. Lauren caught it on the run at the opposite free-throw line, dribbled
twice, and went up for the easy lay-in.

Two
points, Bradshaw.

The
crowd went wild. One point down, Bradshaw needed one basket to win.

Evergreen
called a timeout.

Wiping
sweat from her forehead, Emma glanced at the scoreboard as she walked toward
the sideline. The game, the season, Emma. Everything would be defined in the
next twenty seconds.

Twenty
seconds.

A
time both desired and feared by any true athlete, but most athletes didn’t
double as coaches. Emma would be lying if she’d said she wasn’t scared. Scared
of having an entire team and a gym full of people relying on her for the
outcome of this game. Somewhere in the stands, Riley, the guys, and the Ledgers
cheered for her. Win or lose, they cheered for her. She didn’t want to
disappoint them, she didn’t want to let them or her teammates down, but she was
filled with so much doubt. She wasn’t a coach. She was hardly a player, yet
seven girls looked to her to be both.

Emma
didn’t know if she was strong enough, good enough, or smart enough to lead her
teammates to victory in the next twenty seconds, but she had to try. Somehow,
she had to smother the doubt and fear surging within her and be the coach and
player her team needed her to be.

She
needed the perfect plan.

Mr.
Thompson nodded and clapped as the girls came off the court to form a huddle.
Even if he had been in charge, there’s no way he would have survived. Sweat
beaded on his brow and his wide eyes looked on in fear.

All
Evergreen needed was to hold onto the ball. They were up by one and the game
was theirs. But beating what used to be the worst team in the league by only
one point was not acceptable for them—they would look for the shot.

“We
need the ball,” Emma said. “Let’s go with a full-court press and be ready for
the long pass. Don’t foul, don’t reach in, and don’t give them the shot. Get
the ball.
When
we get the ball, this is what we’re going to do.”

Emma
felt the eyes of her teammates on her as she kneeled in the middle of the huddle
and propped the clipboard on her knee. Diagramming the last twenty seconds of
the game, she covered the clipboard with Xs, Os, and arrows as she explained
their offense. “Whoever gets the ball needs to pass it to Ashley.”

Emma
looked up from the clipboard into Ashley’s eyes, knowing she couldn’t trust
anyone else to make the last basket count. “You know what you need to do.”

Ashley’s
eyes widened. “What? N-no.”