Free Jump Shot by Paul Mantell Ronde Barber Tiki Barber Page A

dribbled quickly down the court—never mindthat he wasn’t the point guard, he was free!
    He could hear a defender closing on him from behind, and pulled up short. The defender hit him like a two-ton truck. Ronde went down, and the whistle blew.
    â€œFoul!” yelled the ref.
    Ronde got up and checked himself for bruises. Not too bad, he judged. Standing at the free throw line, he took the ball and calmly sank one shot, then another.
    Sugar wound up sitting the whole rest of the first half. When the buzzer sounded, the Eagles were in the lead, 32–28. Ronde had scored seven points, five of them on free throws. He’d notched three rebounds, three steals, and two assists. It was the best performance by an Eagle not named Sugar in anyone’s memory!
    Ronde felt really, really good. He was proud of what he’d done, and even though his teammates slapped him five, and he knew they were as excited as he was, none of them said much, other than “nice going.”
    In the locker room at halftime, he wondered whether Sugar would say anything to him. Before the game, he’d been really angry with Tiki, and with Ronde, too. Would Ronde’s great work on the court change Sugar’s attitude for the better?
    Or worse ?
    Here came Sugar now. He looked straight at Ronde and said, “Way to go.”
    Ronde breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks!”
    â€œCoach is pairing us up for the second half. That means you’re in for the start.”
    â€œOh.” Ronde paused. “But . . . what about Rory?”
    â€œYou’re in,” Sugar said simply. That was all he said, except, “See you out there. You know what to do with the ball when you get it, right?”
    Ronde nodded. He knew what Sugar expected him to do—pass it straight to Sugar.
    He glanced over at Rory, who was sitting glumly in front of his locker. Ronde got up and went over there. “Don’t worry, man,” he said, sitting next to him on the bench. “I’m gonna fix this whole mess.”
    â€œYeah, you fixed it great so far,” said Rory, not looking at him.
    Ronde got up without saying anything more. Rory was bound to be mad at him for taking his place on the starting five. That was natural. But Ronde had meant what he’d said: He meant to fix this mess, and soon.
    The second half was a pitched battle, between the Bears on one side and Ronde and Sugar on the other.
    In a way, Ronde had succeeded—he’d convinced Sugar to share the ball, the way a good point guard should. The bad part was, the only one he’d share the ball with was Ronde. And he was doing that only because he knew Ronde would pass it right back to him!
    On the other hand, Ronde did find himself free fora few easy shots—and when he did, he sank them. Sugar did his part, dazzling the Bears’ defense with his moves and his soft-touch jumpers, passing off to Ronde whenever the Bears came at him with the double-team.
    â€œThat’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Sugar roared when the Blue Ridge coach had to call an emergency time-out to keep the Eagles from running away with the game. “That’s what I’ve been trying to get going all season!”
    Yeah, Ronde said silently to himself. Now try it with everybody else on the team!
    He said nothing out loud, of course. Not now, in the middle of a crucial ball game. But Ronde knew he’d have to say something soon—this team needed every victory it could get. One more loss, and it would mean the end of their last remaining goal: a winning season.
    For today, Ronde and Sugar’s heroics were enough. The Eagles won by a score of 57–54. Sugar scored only seventeen points, but Ronde’s eleven points helped to make up the difference.
    Okay, so they’d kept their dream alive, he thought as he followed the team back into the locker room—for today, at least. But that was small comfort. The Bears were a