Basketball clinics, a revolving door of coaches, incensed parents, and the importance of the right sneakers&;is that what the game is about? Told from the perspective of four unlikely friends, Nora Raleigh Baskin's poignant novel focuses on the action, drama, and fun of playing ball and explores what it takes to be a winner of the game&;both on the court and off.
Basketball (or Something Like It)
By Nora BaskinHarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
Copyright © 2007 Nora Baskin
All right reserved.ISBN: 9780060596125Chapter One
The Clinics
Hank heard everything while he was brushing his teeth, getting ready for bed. His parents were downstairs talking about him, again. And basketball. Again.
"Don't think they don't do it on purpose," Hank's dad was saying.
Clanking and clinking.
"That's ridiculous." His mother's reply.
Hank could hear their voices moving around the kitchen and into the living room and back. His mother was cleaning up from dinner, which explained the clanking and clinking.
"Why else would they schedule this basketball clinic at the same time as soccer? And don't think they didn't know about the soccer playoffs. Because they do."
Turning the tap water on didn't drown out their voices. Hank stared at himself in the mirror, his mouth foamy with toothpaste. "So call somebody and complainThis was his mother's brilliant suggestion.
"Somebody! Like who? Like Joel Bischoff? If Hank misses all the clinics and screws up at the tryout, who do you think is going to look better?"
"Who?"
"Who? Are you kidding? His own son, that's who."
Upstairs, Hank spit toothpaste into the sink. It couldn't have been better timing. He felt like spitting. He imagined his parents could see him, only it wasn't the sink, it was the floor. Right in front of their faces. He imagined they would stop, stop talking about him all the time. Stop talking about basketball or baseball or whatever season and whatever sport they felt Hank should be getting more playing time in playing a better position.
"You mean Tyler Bischoff?" Hank's mother asked, and answered her own question. "Hank is five times better than Tyler Bischoff. Ten times."
His father was silent. Hank figured he was making that face. That face that says, "Isn't it obvious?"
As in, isn't it obvious that Joel Bischoff would want Hank Adler to miss all the pre-tryout clinics and screw up completely and be cut from the travel basketball team so that his kid would have a better chance? And that that is obviously why he scheduled the clinics for Wednesday nights. Soccer night.
Hank's parents had the conspiracy theory down to an art.
"Well, somebody should say something," Hank's mother said again, but a little more quietly. Then he heard his mother's determined footsteps leave the room.
Oh God, Hank thought. He felt a headache coming on. No, he definitely had a headache already. He knew just what his mother was going to do. And Hank knew, even if his mother didn't, that that was exactly what his father wanted. She was going to call "somebody." Probably not Tyler Bischoff's dad, who was on the basketball board, but somebody. Somebody's mom maybe, and get them all worked up. Maybe two or three other select moms from the soccer team. And then she'd go in for the kill.
He wasn't sure how it worked exactly, because she did all her heavy phone calling during school hours. She even had one of those headsets that strapped around her head and plugged into her ear, like she worked for the Secret Service . . .
Continues...Excerpted from Basketball (or Something Like It)by Nora Baskin Copyright © 2007 by Nora Baskin. Excerpted by permission.
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