Chapter 7

In November the PE classes switched from football and soccer outdoors on the big playground behind the school to basketball and volleyball inside as the weather got colder and wetter.

One day Mr. Lehr had Rigby’s section work on foul shots at the three baskets in the boys’ half of the gym. “Want you to take ten, two at a time and then come and tell me how many you made. Get it? Take turns. You can take other shots while you wait, understand, but get ten foul shots.”

Half an hour later, near the end of the period, Rigby came to where Mr. Lehr sat with his open grade book. “How many?” he asked.

“Nine,” said Rigby.

“Nine?” said Lehr, “really, you made nine out of ten?”

Rigby nodded. “Yessir, one rolled around but didn’t go in.”

“Nobody makes nine. Show me,” he said, standing up. He blew his whistle. “If you haven’t taken your ten foul shots, get it done,” he said loudly. He and Rigby walked to the nearest foul like, and he gave the boy a ball. ‘Show me,” he said.

Rigby held the ball with both hands, spread his feet, bent his knees, put the ball down between his legs and then tossed it up with both hands toward the basket. It went in and didn’t even touch the rim.

The boys stopped shooting and watched. Lehr gave Rigby another ball. He squatted and tossed and in it went. “By damn,” said Mr. Lehr and then he blew his whistle and yelled, “Hit the showers.” He gave Rigby a ball, and he made another shot.

“How’d you learn to do that?” the gym teacher asked.

“Comic book,” Rigby said. “Showed a guy that made almost, I think it was five hundred, in a row, a little guy, a man not a kid. This was one of those believe it or not things.”

“Five hundred foul shots?”

Rigby nodded. “I never tried before.”

Lehr cocked his head to the side and squinted at the boy. “Want you to come out for the JV team. Got another seventh grader, that tall guy, Mason. You and him and the rest of them’s eighth graders. Understand? Gonna be a good team, as usual.”

Rigby nodded. “I have a paper route.”

“I remember, Star. Practice only lasts an hour, two or three times a week. You can do it.” He handed the boy a ball. “One more.”

Rigby bent, tossed it up with both hands and it swished through the net.

Zip Lehr smiled and began thinking about ways to use this skill.