Chapter 4

The next afternoon he met with the varsity basketball team while his JV players did foul-shot practice at six backboards, just two shots at a time. "Who's the captain?" he asked them. They looked sour, unhappy, dispirited, one of those, maybe more than one. He knew he had to do something, something quick. He had expected anger and found dejection. "OK, Scott, you're a senior aren't you, so you're it, you're captain at least for now. Objections?

"We're going to practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays, three-thirty till five, and early in the morning, seven to eight, if we need to, maybe we will, depends on several things, and maybe some Mondays. You can come in and shoot in the mornings if you want too. I'll try to be here. Be nice to the girls; they'll be shooting too. We've got to share."

"How come?" Scott asked.

"Cause it's fair to the girls. Think about it; look at it from their side. Today we're going learn some zone, a two-one-two which is pretty easy, and a zone press techniques. Who should I add to the varsity?"

"Jimmy Miller's OK and there's that new kid, Joe something, he can shoot. Anybody else?" Scott looked around at shaking heads. "Swartz I think's his name, good on the hardtop out back, hell of a jumpshot."

"Don't know him. I'll ask. OK, I'm bringing up my best two, Rick and his buddy Jim, so be nice to them. And I'll talk to Miller. We need some height.

"OK. Two guys at each basket, twenty foul shots, two at a time. Aim to get the ball over the front hook on the basket, concentrate, follow though, bend your knees."

They scattered, and he put the JV in the stands and explained the situation. The two boys he promoted were all smiles. It left him with twelve so he would not have to cut, a process he hated. He had been doing this long enough that he knew losers when he saw them. It was going to be a long season.