Edenville Owls

Chapter 2

It was cold and raining on a Saturday morning, the first week of October, so the Owls took the bus to Eastfield for a practice game against the high school JV team. Russell had arranged the game. He was kind of bossy, and did all the arranging.

It was about a five-mile ride to Eastfield High School. We sat in the back of the bus. Edenville didn’t have a high school, so we’d be going to Eastfield ourselves in a couple of years.

“Listen to this,” Russell said. “You know how the state tourney decided to include JV teams?”

Nick said, “So there’ll be the regular high school tournament and a JV one?”

Russell nodded.

“Well, there’s a slot from each region for an independent team.”

“In the JV tournament?” Billy said.

“Yeah. I guess they didn’t have enough JV teams.”

“And,” I said, “the high school coaches like to have kids playing before they get to high school.”

“Development program,” Manny said.

He was a very quiet guy. Probably had to do with being a colored guy with mostly white guys. Maybe it was just how he was. But when he did say something, it was usually not a dumb thing.

“So I signed us up,” Russell said.

“For the state tourney?”

“Sure,” Russell said. “We win our region and we go to Boston Garden.”

“Boston Garden?”

“You think we can make it to Boston Garden?” Billy said.

“You got me at center,” Russell said.

“Oh boy,” Billy said.

“Hey,” Russell said, “you’ve seen my pivot shot.”

Russell stood and demonstrated in the back of the bus. The bus driver saw him in the rearview mirror.

“Sit down, kid,” the bus driver said.

“I guess he doesn’t want to see your pivot shot either,” Nick said.

Russell grinned and made a little head fake and sat down holding the basketball on his lap.

“Everybody will see it at the Garden,” he said.

Russell was six foot one in the eighth grade, but he wasn’t too well coordinated, and he didn’t have very good hands. Still, he was taller than most kids our age. It helped him get rebounds and he scored a lot on put-backs.

The high school JVs were already doing a layup drill when we came out of the locker room. The gym smelled like floor wax and disinfectant. It had a big echo-y quality. There were stands all around the gym. No one was in the stands, but they were impressive anyway. What would it be like in Boston Garden? The Owls began to shoot around a little. We couldn’t really do a layup drill with two lines even if we knew how. There weren’t enough of us. There were eleven guys on the high school JVs, and they had a coach. And the high school coach himself was there too. The nervous feeling was in my stomach. The varsity captain was there with the varsity coach, and he agreed to referee. We lined up for the tip the way we always did. Russell at center. Nick and Manny at the forwards, Billy and me at guard. Billy had a pretty good set shot. And I usually brought the ball up.

The JV center got the tip even though Russell was taller. He sent it to a forward, who passed to the other forward, who passed it back for a layup. It wasn’t a good start and it didn’t get better. It wasn’t that they were so much better players. But they knew what to do with the ball, and what to do on defense. Our plan was mostly to have me bring the ball up, see if someone was open, or try to get the ball in to Russell so he could turn around with his famous pivot shot and shoot over the guy guarding him. Except every time I did get it in to him, one of the other guys on the JVs dropped back and they double-teamed him and he lost the ball a lot.

Russell got six points. Billy got a couple of set shots. Nick drove by his man a couple times for layups. And Manny got a rebound and put it in. I got four foul shots and missed three of them. We lost forty-eight to seventeen.

The high school coach came into the locker room while we were getting dressed.

“You guys got a coach?” he said.

“No,” Russell said.

“You need one,” he said.

“We can’t get nobody to do it,” Russell said.

The coach shrugged.

“Too bad,” he said. “You sure do need coaching.”

It was still raining and cold while we waited for the bus across the street from the high school. The salty smell of the harbor was pretty strong. It was stronger than it was on nice days. I wondered why that was.

“We’re awful,” Manny said.

“Yeah,” Nick said. “He’s right. We need a coach.”

“I asked everybody,” Russell said. “Nobody’s got time to coach us, that knows anything.”

“We’ll think of something,” I said.

“Yeah?” Billy said. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll figure it out.”