Free Real Hoops by Fred Bowen Page A

best games are back there,” he said. “And by the way, I’m Mr. Sims, the director.”
    “Thanks, Mr. Sims,” Ben said. He and Logan walked past the desk and stood at the big Plexiglas window that overlooked the basketball court.
    Just as the boys had expected, the gameswere a mix of high school and college kids. Some of the players looked even older. There were two games going and a bunch of guys waiting in the bleachers. The games were fast and loud. Ben could hear the players’ shouts through the glass.
    “Who’s got him?”
    “Watch out for Hud!”
    “Gimme the ball, gimme the ball!”
    A skinny kid in baggy red shorts and a sweaty T-shirt dribbled downcourt at top speed. He cut right, bringing the defender with him. Then he flipped a no-look pass to his left. The pass flew straight into the hands of a player under the basket who quickly laid the ball against the backboard and into the net.
    “Whoa! Nice pass,” Logan said.
    “I told you the games were better here,” Ben said. “Let’s go down.”
    The boys barreled through the door. As they scrambled down the steps, they saw the skinny kid in the red shorts drive to the basket and whip a wraparound pass to another player for another easy layup.
    “That’s game,” the kid said as he turned to the sidelines. “Who’s got next?”
    Five players hustled onto the court to replace the losing team.
    “Me and Ty got to go home,” the player who scored the last basket called out.
    The kid in the red shorts looked at Ben and Logan. “You guys want to run?”
    “Sure,” Ben said. “But what about those guys over there?”
    The kid looked at the small clump of players talking to each other on the sidelines. “They’re waiting for a game on another court,” he said. “Come on.”
    “Okay.” Ben smiled at Logan and the two of them jogged onto the court.
    “I’m Hud,” the kid said. “And we got Ice Man and Helicopter,” he added, pointing at two older players. “Let’s go.”
    The game was fast—much faster and rougher than the ones at Ben and Logan’s regular playground. Players raced up and down the court, taking open jump shots. Ben hit his first three shots on passes from Hud.
    “Hey, we got a shooter,” Hud said with a grin.
    But Hud was the player who controlled the action. His passes were amazing. He always got the ball to teammates who could make open jumpers and easy layups. After about an hour of nonstop hoops and several wins, Ben, Logan, and Hud took a break in the wooden stands.
    “You guys can really play,” Hud said to Ben and Logan. “What team are you on?”
    “Well, we have to try out first. But we’re going to play for the Roosevelt freshman team,” Ben said.
    Hud looked out onto the court. “My dad wants me to transfer there. He says the coaches are better.”
    “Where do you go now?” Logan asked.
    “I’m a freshman at Garfield.”
    Ben could hardly contain his excitement. “You should definitely transfer! We could use a point guard like you.”
    “How can you transfer?” Logan asked.
    “I just have to say I want to study something at Roosevelt that they don’t have at Garfield.”
    “Like what?”
    “My dad says they teach Chinese at Roosevelt,” Hud said with a shrug. He looked up at the clock on the gym wall. “I got to go,” he added, popping to his feet. “See you around.”
    “See you at Roosevelt … maybe,” Ben called after him as Hud disappeared behind the gym door.
    Ben and Logan looked at each other without saying a word. They couldn’t believe their good luck.
    They had found their point guard.

Chapter 2
    N o, no, no!” Ms. Rackey shouted from the podium of the Roosevelt High School music room.
    Sitting in the front row of the jazz band, Ben lowered his tenor saxophone as the song slowly died out. He glanced back at Logan, who was standing in the percussion section, and rolled his eyes. The school’s music teacher was hard to please.
    “You have to play together and listen while