Dribbling Denton
By Julia A. Keirns
Lori Denton sat on top of the pump-house and watched the big red sun slowly fall behind the rim of the world. God must like basketball too, she thought. Tryouts were tomorrow after school. She had practiced so much she was doing lay-ups in her sleep. She felt the pump-house kick on and knew her mother was starting dishes. She looked behind her at the kitchen window, and there stood her mother, waving for her to come in.
Lori was the tallest girl in the whole seventh grade, and she wanted to play basketball more than anything in the world. As she ran to the house, she dribbled an imaginary ball, faked left, pivoted right, and practiced another lay-up. “Score! 2 points! The crowd goes wild!” Once on the porch, she kicked off her shoes and stumbled right into her mother.
“Lori, try to be quiet,” said her mother. “The little ones are in bed already.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“Go do the dishes, please. I’ve already ran the hot water. Then get to bed. It’s almost nine o’clock.”
“Okay.”
“Finito! The dishes are done,” she said out loud, not really talking to anyone.
She noticed a container of small red cherry tomatoes sitting on the counter. Everything resembled a basketball to her, and those small round red cherry tomatoes were just too hard to resist. She picked one up and popped it in her mouth. She wondered if she would make the team. She popped another one into her mouth. She would just die if she didn’t. She knew she wasn’t the most coordinated ball player, but she had heart and she was tall. Surely, they would want her height on the team. She got a drink of water and set the glass in the sink. Perfect basket she thought. Plop! She made it, but it splashed water all over her mother’s new kitchen curtains.
“Lori? What are you doing,” her mother asked as she stepped in the kitchen doorway just in time to catch the glory of the shot.
“Sorry, Mom,” said Lori. “I didn’t mean to get the curtains wet.”
“I sure will be glad when basketball season is over with,” said her mother.
“Over with?! What do you mean? It hasn’t even started yet.”
“I know,” said her mother. “Believe me, I know.”
Lori came out of the dressing room and sweeped the gym with her eyes. A dozen girls were lined up doing jump-shots at the far basket, and another dozen were doing lay-ups at her end of the court. Mr. Pressler – the head coach – and Mr. Saylor – the assistant coach – were standing by the bleachers, holding clipboards and making marks as they watched the girls shoot. Just seeing them made her nervous.
‘All right,’ she told herself. ‘This is it. This is what you have been waiting for.’ She took a deep breath, and ran over to stand in line behind Katy Miller.
Katy was the shortest girl in the whole seventh grade. ‘I wonder what she is doing here,’ she thought.
“Hi, Lori,” Katy said looking up at her.
“Hi.”
“I didn’t know you played basketball,” said Katy.
“I didn’t know you did either,” said Lori. “I’ve been practicing all summer.”
“Well, good luck,” said Katy as she grabbed the ball that was bounced to her and dribbled away like she was born with it in her hands. Then she shot the perfect basket and ran to the back of the line. ‘Wow,’ thought Lori. ‘She’s really good.’ Then she glanced over at the coaches. They were smiling and nodding. Katy was in, Lori could tell.
Now, it was her turn. She hesitated though when she picked up the ball. The butterflies in her stomach decided to let themselves be known at that very moment. Her palms were sweaty. She tried to dribble but hit her shoe and the ball bounced to the side and rolled across the gym floor. She ran after it, tripped, and fell hard, flat on her face. Her elbows and knees burned. Floor burn. ‘Oh my gosh,’ she thought. ‘How embarrassing.’ Maybe no one saw. She stood up and turned around and everyone was giggling and pointing and whispering to the girl beside them. She was so embarrassed she could just die.
When tryouts were over, she just wanted to go home and cry.
“Sorry, you didn’t make the team this year,” said Katy.
Lori looked up and Katy was standing right beside her. “That’s okay. Maybe next year,” she said, but didn’t really mean it. She would never try out again. She was fighting back the tears as she headed out into the hallway. She felt like she couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“Hey, Denton,” hollered Mr. Pressler from the other side of the gym.
“Yes, sir?”
“Don’t be discouraged,” he said as he slowly walked towards her. “You’re good once you get past being so nervous.”
“I’m not normally like that,” she said as she wiped the tears away from her eyes. “It’s just a new school and all, and everyone is older and so much better than me.”
“You’ve got a lot of potential,” he went on. “If you keep up that dribbling, Denton, and come to all the practices and games with us, I bet you’ll make the team next year.”
“Come to all the practices and games?”
“You bet,” he said. “I want you to be our stat girl. That is, if you’re interested.”
“Interested?!” she squeaked. “You bet! Thank you!”
She couldn’t believe he had asked her to be the stat girl. Wow!
Mr. Pressler took the time to show her a few moves and give her some pointers. She found out there was a lot she didn’t know about basketball. Being a stat girl would help her learn more about the game. By the time she left the gym, she felt much better. She was already excited about next year’s tryouts, and about the year ahead of her. It was going to be a fun season.
“Mom! I’m home!”
“Did you make the team?” her mother asked.
“Nope, but it’s okay. Mr. Pressler made me the stat girl. He told me if I keep practicing all year long, I’ll be a shoe-in for next year’s team.” She took off her socks, rolled them into little balls, and shot them at the laundry basket in the hallway.
“Score! 2 points!” she hollered.
“All year long, huh?” said her mother. “Oh, the joys of motherhood.”