Off the bench, p.1
Off the Bench, page 1
Published by
PEACHTREE PUBLISHING COMPANY INC.
1700 Chattahoochee Avenue
Atlanta, Georgia 30318-2112
PeachtreeBooks.com
Text © 2023 by Fred Bowen
Cover illustration © 2023 by Marcelo Baez
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Edited by Elizabeth Law
Cover design by Kate Gartner
Art direction by Adela Pons
Composition by Lily Steele
ISBN 9781682634103
Ebook ISBN 9781682635070
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Bowen, Fred, author.
Title: Off the bench / Fred Bowen.
Description: First edition. | Atlanta : Peachtree, [2023] | Series: Fred Bowen sports story; 25 | Audience: Ages 7-11. | Audience: Grades 2-3. |
Summary: Kris wants to be a star scorer on the court like his brother Dylan, but he discovers the energy he brings to his team as the sixth man is just as important as scoring points.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022040803 | ISBN 9781682634103 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781682635070 (ebook)
Subjects: CYAC: Basketball--Fiction. | Junior high schools--FIction. | Schools--Fiction. | LCGFT: Sports fiction. | Novels.
Classification: LCC PZ7.B6724 Oe 2023 | DDC [Fic]--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022040803
a_prh_6.0_142879845_c0_r0
For my son-in-law Jeremie Amoroso.
Sports fan and good man.
Conents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter
ONE
Kris Hall felt the game before he saw the game.
He walked up the stairs to the Oak View High School gymnasium with his mother, father, and younger sister, Joni. The stairs almost trembled from the pounding feet on the floor above. The noise of the crowd swirled down the stairway.
Kris could sense his heart beating faster.
His father handed four tickets to a man sitting on a high stool near the double door at the entrance of the gym.
“First game of the season!” Mr. Hall shouted to the man over the sound of the crowd. “Good to be back.”
The man nodded as he tore the tickets in half and handed the stubs to Mr. Hall. “They’ve got a chance to be pretty good this year. Especially with your son on the team.”
“I just hope they all have a fun season,” Kris’s mother chimed in.
The family squeezed by several people standing around the entrance and stepped inside. The gym was almost full. The two teams—Oak View and Wilson High School—were warming up. Players and basketballs flashed around the polished floor.
“There’s Dylan!” Joni shouted, pointing to the floor.
Kris spied his older brother moving, passing, hustling. He looked every inch a real ballplayer. Six feet even and in great shape for his senior year. Dylan was all business before the game, eyes focused on the ball and the action on the floor, looking sharp in his white uniform with the black and orange trim. Number 14—his favorite number.
Kris looked around at the people in the stands. Groups of parents, students, teachers, and people from the town huddled together along the rows of wooden bleachers. Their voices blended with the pounding basketballs and the squeaks of basketball shoes against the floor. A warm gym was a good place to be on a cold December Friday night in a small town.
“There are the Russos,” Kris’s mother said, pointing to a woman standing and waving in the crowd. “They’re saving seats for us.”
The family threaded their way through the crowd and sat next to the Russos. On the floor, Dylan stood at the foul line practicing his free throws as he’d done thousands of times in the Halls’ driveway. He bounced the ball three times, took a deep breath, dipped his knees, and spun the ball toward the front of the rim. His shot slipped through the net, barely moving the strings.
Kris looked past the players to the crowd on the other side of the gym. “There are Mason and Kordell,” Kris said to his parents. “Can I go sit with them?”
“Sure.”
“We’ll meet you at the bottom of those stairs after the game,” his mother said, pointing to the door the family had used to enter the gym.
“I want to hear you cheering for Dylan all the way across the floor,” his father said with a smile as Kris moved away.
Kris crossed the gym, staying close to the wall at one end of the court. As he passed the floor, he noticed the Oak View players. They’re a lot bigger and faster than us eighth graders, he thought.
He climbed to the last row of the bleachers and traded fist bumps with Mason James and Kordell Lewis, fellow Oak View Junior High basketball players.
“Hey, your brother looks good warming up,” Mason said. “All his shots are dropping.”
“I’ll bet he gets twenty tonight,” Kordell said.
“Maybe,” Kris said, studying the players. “How does the Wilson team look?”
“Not bad, they’ve got a couple of big guys.”
Mason pointed to a corner of the gym. “Hey, look, there’s Coach Davis.”
Kris saw their junior high school coach standing near a door with his hands in his pockets. “He doesn’t look much older than the guys on the floor,” Kris said.
“I heard he just got out of college a year or two ago,” Kordell said.
“Did he play hoops?”
“I don’t know. But I think this is his first year coaching.”
The teams gathered around their benches as the public address announcer began speaking to the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, here are the starting lineups for tonight’s game between the Wilson Presidents and the Oak View Tigers. At center for the Presidents, a six-foot-five senior, Rodney Taylor.”
“I told you,” Mason said. “That’s one of their big guys.”
Kordell nodded. “That dude might be tough to handle under the basket.”
“And the boards,” Kris added.
Polite applause greeted the Presidents starting lineup as they ran out onto the floor. The announcer raised his voice to a shout.
“Now, here is the starting lineup for your Oak View Tigers. At center, a six-foot-four junior, Eric Reed.”
The Oak View starters ran between two lines of pom-pom-waving cheerleaders and hand-clapping bench players to the middle of the floor and traded high fives. The crowd’s cheers grew louder and louder with each player until the announcer finally shouted the last starter’s name. “…At guard, a six-foot senior, Dylan Hall!”
Dylan ran out and joined hands with the other starters as a circle of players and cheers surrounded him.
Kris sat with his back against the gym wall and took in the scene. The crowd. The cheerleaders. The referees. The players moving out to the floor for the opening tip. His father and mother standing across the way clapping. Joni bouncing with excitement in the stands beside them.
This is what I want to be, Kris thought with his brother’s introduction still ringing in his ears.
One of the chosen five.
A player whose name is called out at the beginning of each game.
A starter.
Chapter
TWO
“Okay, bring it in!” Coach Davis shouted.
The seventh and eighth graders who were hoping to make the Oak View Junior High School basketball team stopped shooting and gathered around their coach.
Coach Davis was in his twenties and dressed in black basketball shorts and an orange T-shirt with “OVJHS” across his chest. It may be his first year of coaching, Kris thought, but he looks like he could beat any of us in a game of one-on-one. No problem.
“You guys know this is the last day of tryouts. So I want to see everyone hustling and working hard. It may mean the difference between you making the team or not making the team.” He turned toward the court and motioned to Kris and the players standing near him. “All right, you five guys first…defensive-stance drills.”
Kris winced. He hated this drill. All the moving back and forth and side to side made the muscles in his legs burn.
Coach reviewed the basics of good defense by taking a stance in front of the players. “Get your backside down. I don’t want to see anybody standing straight up. Feet apart and always moving. Eyes up, and keep one foot slightly ahead of the other. Hands to the side and ready. All
Kris and the other four players in line pumped their feet up and down. When Coach Davis pointed left, they moved left, staying low and in their stance. Same thing when he pointed right. Left…right…back…forward. Left…right…back…forward.
Kris kept his legs moving even though they felt like they wanted to fall off. Can’t let Coach think I’m getting lazy, he thought.
“All right, next five.”
After several more defensive-stance drills and what seemed like forever, Coach blew his whistle. Tweeeeeeet!
He shouted, “Give me three lines, both ends of the floor. Fast break drill.”
Kris and Mason jogged to the far end of the court. “How many players do you think he’ll keep?” Kris whispered to Mason.
“I don’t know,” Mason said. “I just hope he keeps enough to keep me.”
“You’ll make it.”
Mason laughed. “I’m glad you think so. Maybe you should be the coach.”
“I think I have almost as much coaching experience as he does.”
Three players sprinted down the court. The ball flashed back and forth among them as Coach shouted instructions.
“Head up. Pass and cut, pass and cut. Don’t fall behind. Keep moving.”
Kris stood in line waiting and thinking as the players weaved up and down the court. Mason’s right. It’s going to be close for him. If Coach keeps fifteen players, Mason’ll make it. But if he only keeps twelve, it’ll be close. But I should make it no problem…and I’ll probably start.
“Next three,” Coach Davis shouted. Kris and two other players took off. Kris passed to the player on his left and cut in back of him. He hustled to keep up with the play. A pass zipped toward him and bounced off his hands. The ball skipped toward the bleachers. Kris scrambled to get the ball.
“Come on, Kris. Look the ball into your hands. Ball first, then make the play,” Coach Davis shouted. “We can’t afford turnovers. Next three.”
Kris went to the back of the line and slapped himself hard on the thigh. Stop worrying about whether Mason is going to make the team or whether you’re going to start. Just play ball.
Tweeeeeeet!
“Sixty-second drill,” Coach called out. “I want three players at each basket. One shooter and two rebounders. Shoot and move to a new spot. Switch shooters every sixty seconds. Let’s go.”
Kris, Mason, and Kordell jogged over to one of the four baskets along the sides of the gym.
Coach Davis smiled as he walked by Kris and his group. “Are you going to be a high scorer like your brother?” He asked softly then added, “How many did he have on Tuesday against Saint Mary’s?”
“Twenty-six,” Kris said.
Coach nodded. “He’s a player.” Then he turned his attention to the players around the baskets. “Okay, sixty seconds. Keep track of how many baskets you make.”
An hour later, after more drills and some scrimmages, Coach Davis called all the players together. Kris gulped water from his metal canister and felt his black and orange practice jersey sticking to his skin.
The last tryout had gone well. Kris had scored some buckets during the scrimmage and had done well in most of the drills. He looked around at the other players. I’ll make it, no problem, he thought.
Coach paced in front of the team as he spoke. “I’m going to post the roster on the team website sometime this evening. Everybody has been working hard, but I’m sorry I can’t keep twenty players. If you don’t make it, keep playing and working on your game. Remember, Michael Jordan didn’t make his high school varsity team on his first try.”
“I’ll bet LeBron James made his first team,” Mason whispered to Kris.
“Okay, I’ll see some of you guys next week for practice,” Coach Davis said as he turned away. “Be ready to run.”
Later that evening, Kris checked the team website again. This time, the Oak View Junior High School basketball roster flashed on the screen. Kris’s heart jumped as he scrolled down the list of chosen players.
PARK ADAMS
NATE ADDERLEY
CARLOS DIAZ
LUKE DOUKAS
WILLIE GARLAND
KRIS HALL
MASON JAMES
KORDELL LEWIS
EARL MAYE
JOE MORELLO
PETE WASHINGTON
MICHAEL WANG
TAYLOR WILLIAMS
At least I made it, Kris thought. Mason made it too. He may have been the thirteenth guy.
Kris studied the roster. Coach had listed the thirteen names of the players in alphabetical order.
He went over the names several more times. Coach hadn’t given any hint about which players were going to be the starting five.
Chapter
THREE
“Everybody in the dining room…now!” Kris’s mother shouted.
“I thought you wanted us to clean up the kitchen,” Dylan said.
“You can do that later.”
Kris put down his dish towel and walked into the dining room. Mom was sitting in front of her laptop. Dad, Dylan, and Joni pulled up chairs.
“We have to figure out all the basketball schedules,” Mom said, shaking her head and staring at the screen. She pointed at Dylan. “When do you play your games?”
“Tuesdays after school and Friday nights.”
“Every week?”
“Yeah, except during Christmas break.”
“Do you have the schedule so we know which games are home and away?”
Dylan took out his phone. “I’ll text it to you.”
“What about the holiday tournament?” Dad asked.
“Coach said we were going to play in one.”
“When?”
“I don’t know the exact dates. Sometime between Christmas and New Year’s Eve.”
“Can you find out?”
“I’ll try.”
“And remember,” Dad reminded Mom, “they may have some extra games in March if they make the state tournament.”
Mom let out a loud sigh and entered the information into the family calendar. “And when are your practices?” she asked Dylan.
“Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays after school. But Coach said he might call early Saturday morning practices if he thinks we’re not playing hard.”
“Okay, what about you?” Mom asked, looking at Kris. “When are your games?”
“Every Thursday, starting this week,” Kris said and handed her his phone with the OVJHS schedule on it.
Oak View Junior High School Basketball Schedule
December 16
Saint Mary’s
January 6
at Union JHS
January 13
at Clinton JHS
January 20
Bishop Fenton
January 27
at Maple Grove JHS
February 3
McKinley JHS
February 10
Pleasant Valley JHS
February 17
at Jefferson JHS
February 24
Newton Circle
March 3
at Saint John’s Academy
“Do you guys still get to leave school early when the games are away?” Dylan asked Kris.
“I think so.”
Dylan leaned back in his chair. “That’s the best part of playing for any school team,” he said, smiling at the memory. “Around one or two o’clock, they make an announcement.”
Dylan cupped his hands around his mouth so his voice sounded like the public address announcement at school. “The boys’ basketball team can be dismissed for the game against Central.”
Dylan threw his hands into the air. “You can walk right out of school,” he said. “And the teachers—even the principal—are all saying ‘Go get ’em. Beat those guys.’ That’s the absolute best.”
