Free Hoop Crazy by Eric Walters Page A

twenty-four teams become eight,” Kia said.
    â€œAnd if we make the playoffs?” Ned asked.
    â€œIt looks like the second place team in each division plays one of the teams that finished first in another division. Sudden death.”
    â€œWhich means that the losing team goes home,” Kia said. “So there’s only four teams left.”
    â€œAnd those teams play again?” Ned asked.
    Kia nodded. “And the winners of those games play in the finals.”
    â€œSo if we keep winning we could play … five, six, seven, eight games,” Ned said.
    I had to hand it to Ned. He didn’t know much about basketball, but he certainly could do math.
    â€œIf we keep winning,” I agreed, although I figured five was about all we’d be playing. It was unlikely we’d be top two in our division.
    â€œEnough talking about playing, we’d better get you to your court so you can warm up for your first game,” my father said. “You’re going to be on court seventy-two. Follow me.”
    We trailed behind my father as he wove his way toward our court. Although no games had officially started yet there were people on every court, practicing, taking shots, fooling around. It was obvious that there were lots of different ages and sizes and skill levels. I watched some of the older players as we passed by. Some were putting up shots from the three-point line — shots that were dropping. Others were dunking, the backboard and rim screaming in protest. This would have been fun to watch if I wasn’t playing.
    â€œBoy, these guys can play, can’t they, Ned,” I said.
    He didn’t answer. I looked around. He was walking off to the side, well away from us, staring at the action.
    â€œNed!” I yelled.
    He popped out of his trance and looked at me. He trotted over.
    â€œWhat’s going on over there?” Ned said, pointing to a set of metal bleachers that were on three sides of one court.
    â€œThat’s center court,” Mark explained. He’d been down here last year. “They have all the contests there.”
    â€œContests?” Ned asked.
    â€œThree-point shooting, two-ball contests, dunking contests,” Mark said. “We can come and watch between games and —”
    His voice was drowned out by a blast of music. We all turned around. Radio station KIZS 99 had opened up its mobile station and music was blaring out of three gigantic speakers.
    â€œThat’s really loud!” Ned said.
    â€œNed, do you know what this reminds me of ?” Debbie asked.
    He shook his head.
    â€œThat time when we went into Dawson Creek because the carnival had come to town.”
    I looked around. There were people milling all around, loud music, activities, refreshment stands and different attractions. It
did
look like a carnival. All that was missing were the clowns. I just hoped that wasn’t going to be us.

Chapter Twelve

    â€œOkay, gentlemen, and lady,” the ref said. “Red team won the coin toss so they get first ball.”
    Ned looked confused.
    â€œWe’re the blue team,” I said softly.
    One team was called blue and the other red even though the three of us were in white and the other team had on gray shirts.
    I had one eye on the other team for the entire warm-up. They were pretty good. All four could shoot and dribble. Two of them were the same size as Kia and me. The third was a little shorter and the fourth guy a lot shorter.
    I’d also been watching them watching Ned. They huddled together and pointed. They really didn’t know if he could play, but they did know that hewas more than a head taller than anybody else on the court.
    â€œBefore we start I’m going to give you a quick review. First team to sixteen baskets wins. Shots from behind the three-point line count for two baskets. First seven fouls you get the ball. Fouls eight through twelve you get a shot. Every foul after twelve you