Anything for Her Children. Darlene Gardner
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Mary Lynn Marco, Tony’s wife.
Their eyes met. Before Keri could say hello or even smile, Mary Lynn walked quickly past her, as though being chased by a hellhound. So much for letting the other woman in on the long-overdue fact that Keri wished her only the best of luck with Tony.
The half started almost as soon as Keri reached her bleacher seat, giving her little time to dwell on either Becky’s comments or Mary Lynn’s coolness. The two teams played at a breathtaking pace, exchanging baskets and the lead.
Keri had seen Bryan play basketball many times, but still marveled over how a boy who was so laid-back off the court could be so intense on it.
When Bryan got the ball at the three-point line with thirty seconds left and Springhill trailing by four, Keri knew the shot would be good even before the ball left his fingertips. The three-pointer brought Springhill within one, sending the crowd into hysterics.
“I can hardly stand how exciting this is,” Lori said, literally on the edge of her seat.
Westlake successfully inbounded the ball to its point guard, who dribbled up the court. From two seats away, Carolyn yelled, “Steal the ball.”
When the opposing point guard attempted to get the ball to a teammate, Bryan did exactly that, swooping into a passing lane out of seemingly nowhere to grab the ball out of the air. He raced down court, with two Westlake players hounding his every stride. The crowd roared as the clock ticked down to ten seconds.
Instead of forcing a shot when he was well defended, Bryan alertly passed to a teammate open under the basket. Joey Jividen. One of the younger boys on the varsity, Joey had entered the game when another player fouled out.
With nobody guarding him, Joey had an easy two points. The ball left his hand with plenty of time to spare. It banked off the glass, rattled around the hoop and rimmed out.
One of the opposing players grabbed the rebound but lost his footing and stepped on the end line. The referee blew the whistle, signaling possession would go to Springhill. The clock showed five seconds left to play.
“Time-out,” Grady yelled, forming his hands into a T.
The Springhill side of the crowd was silent, seemingly in shock. “How could you miss that gimme, Jividen?” A guy with a booming voice yelled from somewhere behind Keri.
“I’ll tell you how,” Carolyn Brown muttered. “Joey’s not very good. He shouldn’t even be on the court.”
“I think Joey does fine,” Keri said.
Carolyn harrumphed.
The Springhill players walked back to the huddle, with Joey at the rear, hanging his head.
Keri expected the hard-nosed Grady to go ballistic. He ignored Bryan and the other three players who’d been on the floor, walking past them to meet Joey.
Leaning his head close to the boy, he put his arm around him and said something meant for Joey’s ears alone. Keri got a glimpse of Grady’s face when he let Joey go and saw not anger, but determination.
He directed the five players who’d play the last five seconds to sit down so they could go over the strategy for the last play. Joey Jividen was one of the five.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the man behind her groused loudly, while on the sidelines Grady pointed to his clipboard. Murmurs went up from the rest of the crowd.
“He needs to bench Joey,” Carolyn said. “That boy’s gonna lose us the game.”
That boy, Keri thought, had just gotten a much-needed boost of confidence from his coach.
“I think Coach Quinlan’s doing the right thing,” Keri said.
“Bryan will take the last shot,” Lori predicted. “The best player always does.”
Everybody in the gym, including the opposing team, seemed to arrive at the same conclusion. Two Westlake defenders shadowed Bryan, clearly having been directed not to let him catch the pass.
Joey Jividen was the inbounder. He threw the ball not to Bryan, but to Lori’s son Garrett. Because the defender who should have been assigned to Joey was double-teaming Bryan, Joey had an unimpeded lane to the basket.
Garrett passed Joey the basketball at the same spot where Joey had just missed the shot. Joey caught it, arching the ball toward the basket and victory before time expired.
This time there was no doubt. The ball banked off the backboard and dropped straight through the hoop.
The crowd went wild, the Springhill players mobbing the boy who had gone from goat to hero in a matter of seconds. Keri joined in the cheers. Grady walked onto the court to where his joyous players congregated, but not to partake in the celebration. In an eye blink, he had the Springhill team lined up single file to shake the opponents’ hands.
It was only when the winning Springhill players were leaving the floor that Keri saw Grady pat young Joey Jividen on the back.
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