Free Hot Hand by Mike Lupica Page A

own, the first shot that long Billy had ever seen him make, to tie the game.
    Forty-five seconds left.
    On their way into the huddle for their last time-out, Lenny said to Billy, “You got one more from downtown in you?”
    “You know it,” Billy said.
    Except Billy’s dad drew up the last shot for Lenny.
    Billy gave a quick look at Lenny, who mouthed the words Sorry, dude.
    They were supposed to spread the floor, work the clock down the way they usually did in a situation like this. The only thing different this time, as a way of throwing the 76ers off, was that Jim Sarni, the Magic’s center, was supposed to do most of the ball-handling out near half-court. The 76ers had gone back to playing man-to-man for most of the second half, and this was the way Billy’s dad had come up with to get Zack Fredman away from the basket when Lenny made his move with about ten seconds left on the clock.
    On their way back on the court, Lenny whispered to Billy, “Dude, I’ve got a feeling they’re not just gonna let me walk in and get an open look. So if anything happens, be ready to be Last Shot Raynor again.”
    “Just run the play he wants,” Billy said. “ Please .”
    The Magic worked the ball the way they were supposed to. Jim Sarni was good with the ball for a big guy, and Zack Fredman didn’t guard him that closely, figuring Jim wasn’t going to be the one to take the last shot for the Magic, not with both Billy and Lenny still in the game.
    With about fifteen seconds left on the clock, Jim threw it over to Lenny on the right wing.
    As soon as he did, Zack crossed them up, just dropped back near the basket like he was playing a one-man zone now.
    If Lenny drove the way he was supposed to, Zack was going to be waiting for him.
    Lenny put his head down and drove, like he was going to make the play work no matter what.
    Only he couldn’t.
    Even when Lenny got a step on the guy guarding him, there was Zack, looking as tall as a tree. It was as if he was daring Lenny to step back and shoot one from the outside, even though outside shooting was the weakest part of Lenny’s game.
    Jim Sarni was wide open on the left side of the basket, but to get him the ball, Lenny would have had to try to throw it over Zack.
    He threw it across the court to Billy instead.
    Jim Sarni yelled that he was open. When he did, Billy’s guy backed off just enough to give Billy plenty of room to shoot another three-pointer if he wanted to.
    Ten seconds left.
    Billy had just made this shot, was sure he could make it again. He didn’t rush, but didn’t hesitate, either, pretending he was out behind the chalk line he’d drawn in his driveway, pretending he was all by himself out there.
    The ball felt perfect coming out of his hands.
    In his mind, he saw it going through the basket and winning the game.
    Almost.
    It was just a little long, catching the back part of the rim instead of the net, bouncing away as the horn sounded.
    Overtime.
    Billy stood right where he was, still not believing his eyes, like his eyes had played a trick on him, until Lenny grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward their huddle.
    When they got to the huddle, Billy’s dad said, “You had the time and the room to get a better shot. It just wouldn’t have been a hero shot, I guess.”
    Billy said, “But, Dad, I had just made the same exact shot a minute ago.”
    “ We didn’t need a three,” his dad said. “But you did, apparently.”
    Because everybody had already played half the game, his dad could play anyone he wanted in the three-minute overtime. He decided to stay with the guys who had just finished the fourth quarter.
    Despite missing the last shot, Billy was still in there.
    “Play smart,” his dad said to them. “And play with heart. You’re playing these three minutes for the best reason there is—to keep playing.”
    The next two and a half minutes were the best part of the whole game, with no letdown from either team. Lenny scored a basket for