Free Home Court by Amar'e Stoudemire Page B

ball.
    â€œWatch it, man!” Carlos shouted as Ledge rushed to keep up. Their legs tangled up as Ledge tried to slip by on the outside. That was my cue. I rolled back away from Carlos. As he pushed his own teammate out of his way, I took off toward the basket.
    Deuce was in the clear, and he turned and fired a bounce pass my way. It was a good one, but Carlos had almost as much bounce as the ball did. By the time I got possession, he’d brushed past Ledge and was just a half step behind me.
    We raced toward the hoop.
    Yeti stepped in front of me. He was too wide to go around.
    Carlos was right behind me. If I went up for a shot now, he’d block it from behind.
    I gave a quick shot fake — and then ducked!
    Carlos went flying over me, swiping at where the ball had been. He came down with a crash — right on Yeti. The two big dudes turned into a tangled mess on the court.
    â€œTake it!” yelled Mike.
    It was game point, but I tried not to think about that. Instead, I thought about all the times I’d hit this same shot from this same spot on this same court. I rose up and drained a six-foot jump shot to win the game.
    Before my sneakers even landed, shouts went up all around the court. Tavoris raised his hands in triumph. Unfortunately, he’d been using those hands to hold himself on the fence. He thumped into the grass, but he was still smiling. I was, too.
    Mike and Deuce ran over, but we were too excited to figure out whether to high-five or fist-bump or what. We just sort of smashed into each other and shouted, “Yeah!”
    â€œNice shot!” Junior said as he stepped out onto the court.

    â€œWay to go, cuz,” Timmy shouted to Deuce. “Clutch shot, big man!” he said to me.
    Mike grabbed his back and yelled, “Medic!” Everyone laughed. We all felt too good to really feel the bumps and bruises right now.
    Then the court got quiet again and a long shadow fell over me. Carlos had gotten back up and was coming right toward me. Yeti and Ledge were behind him.
    â€œGot your back, Amar’e,” Junior said under his breath.
    But when Carlos reached me, he wasn’t making a fist. He had his hand out. Remember what I said about not being a bad winner? I meant it. I took his hand and shook it.
    â€œGood game, Amar’e,” he said, but the look on his face was like he was plucking out a splinter.
    â€œCall me STAT,” I said.
    And it was true: Mike, Deuce, and I had all stood tall today.
    Carlos and his crew slinked off the court and headed for the road. The rest of us got back to enjoying our home-court advantage. Kids from school were joking around, shooting lazy jumpers, and having a good time.
    Mike was over in the corner, showing Marcus and some of the other guys exactly how he’d fooled Yeti on that play. He was playing both parts and adding funny faces. When he played Yeti, he put on a confused expression and walked around with his knuckles dragging like a caveman.
    Deuce was making a pretty funny expression, too, but his wasn’t on purpose. He was talking to Janie and trying to look all cool. I don’t know what he was saying, but I saw him wave his hand a few times, like Aww, it was nothing .
    It wasn’t, though. It was something. This whole game was something.
    It took us a solid ten minutes to realize the bullies had walked off with the good basketball.

I walked home with my brother, or, I don’t know, maybe I kind of floated.
    â€œThis trip is quicker on a skateboard,” I said.
    â€œLook at me, man,” he said. “I’d break a skateboard.”
    â€œYeah, I’m getting a little tall for it, too,” I said.
    It made me think of that first game against the bullies, the one where they’d waited until I went down to the road to skate before they agreed to play. I told my brother the story. When I finished, he nodded.
    â€œI know those kids,” he said.
    â€œYou know Carlos?” I