Free True Legend by Mike Lupica

ball in True’s hands. Lee smiling as he nodded at Drew and said, “How can I be the man when that guy right there is the man?”
    Somehow it made Drew feel worse, Lee giving him a pass on the way the game had ended on the night when Drew
didn’t
pass.
    Before the reporters left Drew, they kept trying to get him to talk up King and the forty-eight points he’d scored. Nobody came right out and said that King had won the personal battle between him and Drew, in addition to the game, but Drew could hear it implied in every question.
    He just kept saying, over and over, “Glad I got to finally see him in person. Glad I’m going to see him again before the season is over.”
    Before he added this: “Next time I’ll be at my best.”
    He went to the shower finally, stayed in there a long time under the hot water, trying to wash the game away. He’d ended up with his twenty-two points, sixteen assists, and even pulled down eight boards. Yet it still felt as if he’d played the worst game of basketball since his first games as a freshman back at Archbishop Molloy.
    The reporters were gone when he came out of the shower. Only Lee and Brandon and the Brandt twins were left in the locker room. Lee told Drew that the rest of the guys were already on their way to his house, to hang out and have pizza.
    â€œWin as a team, lose as a team,” Lee said.
    Brandon said, “Next time will be different.”
    Tyler said, “You missed shots tonight you usually make in your sleep, and we
still
almost beat that guy.”
    Not Park. That guy. King Gadsen had won, Drew had lost. It wasn’t what Tyler was trying to say—he was just trying to make Drew feel better. But that’s what Drew heard.
    Drew looked at Lee and said, “I really thought I could take it all the way.”
    â€œDude,” Lee said, “you don’t have to explain anything to me. I was making shots before you ever got here, and we never got a sniff of a league title or a state title.”
    Then he sighed and shook his head and said, “But, man, we nearly beat those guys finally.”
    It was then that Drew could see how much this game had hurt his friend, coming so close to beating Park. Drew was hurting, too. But not for the same reason. He felt bad because he’d
looked
bad.
    Oakley had lost the game.
    But Drew had lost face to King Gadsen.
    In that way, it didn’t matter to him that the loss had come against his school’s big rival. It could have come against anybody. This wasn’t about school spirit, because Drew knew he didn’t have any.
    Another hard truth about True Robinson.
    Lee asked if he was ready to go, and Drew said yeah. They both knew, without it even coming up, that Lee would drive him home when the team party—if you could call it a party—was over. It was like that was one more part of the deal with them, something that was just understood.
    â€œLet’s do this, then,” Lee said, “before the other guys eat up all the pizza.”
    They walked out of the locker room and into the tunnel. Seth Gilbert was waiting across from the locker room door, texting somebody, looking impatient, which he could in the best of times.
    He looked up at Drew and said, “Let’s go.”
    â€œGo where?” Drew said.
    â€œI’ve got some people over at the house,” he said. “I want you to meet them, even though the night didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped.”
    Drew wanted to tell him it hadn’t exactly turned out the way he wanted, either. Instead he did something he did a lot with Mr. Gilbert: he swallowed the words.
    It was then that Gilbert seemed to notice Lee standing there.
    â€œTough loss, kid,” he said. “You played good.”
    Good?
Drew wanted to say. He made threes like Kevin Durant tonight, and you thought he played . . .
good
?
    Drew didn’t say that, either.
    Lee thanked Mr.