throws just fine, especially when he had to. And he had made the occasional outside shot. Just not as many as he wanted to make, not as many as he knew he’d have to make someday to be the complete player he wanted to be.
He had always played the game with a pass-first mentality, from the time he began playing organized ball at the Vernon YMCA, and it wasn’t just because he thought of himself as a playmaker, doing what good playmakers and great point guards were supposed to do. That was just one reason. The bigger reason, and he knew it better than anybody, was that he just didn’t have the same confidence shooting the ball that he did passing it.
If he saw an opening on the court, he knew he could make the pass.
When he was open for a fifteen- or twenty-footer, he only hoped he could make the shot.
Huge difference.
He was a better passer than scorer in soccer, as well, but even in soccer he knew that if he had the open shot, he was taking it, and burying the sucker. Money, every time.
He wanted in the worst way to be money shooting a basketball.
Neither Steve Nash nor Chris Paul was the best outside shooter in the world, but if you left them alone, they could both burn you from beyond the three-point arc, and that threat made them even better at playmaking.
Pedro wanted to be that kind of point guard.
He had been watching a show on ESPN Classic the other day, about Magic Johnson, and they were talking about how even though the Lakers had won the championship his rookie year and he was MVP of the NBA Finals, he knew he had to improve his outside shot if he wanted to be the kind of complete player he needed to be. So he went home to Michigan that summer and shot about a thousand outside shots and when he came back for his second season, he started making bombs if you left him alone, and made the whole league come out and guard him.
“Even though we won the title,” Magic said, “I knew I had work to do.”
Pedro had never been afraid of hard work. So he showed up early for practice and stayed late sometimes to work on his shot, and on weekends he even worked harder.
So after soccer today, after his dad had gone to work at the restaurant, he went outside to the end of their driveway and shot for two hours, shot so much that he had to rest at times because he was too tired to raise his arms over his head.
And today he was making them.
Usually one of his problems was that he thought too much about his shot, worried too much about his form and his technique, instead of just looking at the basket and letting it go, like they told you to do in all the shooting books.
Sometimes Pedro thought it wasn’t just that he was thinking too much, it was that he wanted it too much.
Not today.
Today he was on fire, and maybe it was because he was thinking about wanting something else: to be class president. Today he couldn’t get his mind off that, couldn’t get the idea out of his head now that it was rattling around in there like one of his line-drive shots.
The less Pedro thought about shooting from the outside today, the better he did.
For this one day, at least, the long shot was actually making some.
He didn’t say anything to his parents about wanting to run for president. Didn’t say anything to Joe Sutter when they went to the movies on Sunday.
Mostly, Pedro kept waiting for the idea to get out of his head.
Only it wouldn’t.
Even though the voice inside his head kept reminding him of one crucial point: Running for president of the school meant running against Ned Hancock.
Who never lost at anything.
He finally told Joe at lunch on Monday.
“Tell me I’m nuts,” Pedro said.
“No can do.”
“You don’t think running against Ned is nuts?”
“Nope.”
“Then you’re nuts,” Pedro said.
“Should have thought of this myself,” Joe said. “You ought to be president of this school, even if it does mean going up against Ned.”
“Right,” Pedro said. “Piece of cake. He’s the
He had always played the game with a pass-first mentality, from the time he began playing organized ball at the Vernon YMCA, and it wasn’t just because he thought of himself as a playmaker, doing what good playmakers and great point guards were supposed to do. That was just one reason. The bigger reason, and he knew it better than anybody, was that he just didn’t have the same confidence shooting the ball that he did passing it.
If he saw an opening on the court, he knew he could make the pass.
When he was open for a fifteen- or twenty-footer, he only hoped he could make the shot.
Huge difference.
He was a better passer than scorer in soccer, as well, but even in soccer he knew that if he had the open shot, he was taking it, and burying the sucker. Money, every time.
He wanted in the worst way to be money shooting a basketball.
Neither Steve Nash nor Chris Paul was the best outside shooter in the world, but if you left them alone, they could both burn you from beyond the three-point arc, and that threat made them even better at playmaking.
Pedro wanted to be that kind of point guard.
He had been watching a show on ESPN Classic the other day, about Magic Johnson, and they were talking about how even though the Lakers had won the championship his rookie year and he was MVP of the NBA Finals, he knew he had to improve his outside shot if he wanted to be the kind of complete player he needed to be. So he went home to Michigan that summer and shot about a thousand outside shots and when he came back for his second season, he started making bombs if you left him alone, and made the whole league come out and guard him.
“Even though we won the title,” Magic said, “I knew I had work to do.”
Pedro had never been afraid of hard work. So he showed up early for practice and stayed late sometimes to work on his shot, and on weekends he even worked harder.
So after soccer today, after his dad had gone to work at the restaurant, he went outside to the end of their driveway and shot for two hours, shot so much that he had to rest at times because he was too tired to raise his arms over his head.
And today he was making them.
Usually one of his problems was that he thought too much about his shot, worried too much about his form and his technique, instead of just looking at the basket and letting it go, like they told you to do in all the shooting books.
Sometimes Pedro thought it wasn’t just that he was thinking too much, it was that he wanted it too much.
Not today.
Today he was on fire, and maybe it was because he was thinking about wanting something else: to be class president. Today he couldn’t get his mind off that, couldn’t get the idea out of his head now that it was rattling around in there like one of his line-drive shots.
The less Pedro thought about shooting from the outside today, the better he did.
For this one day, at least, the long shot was actually making some.
He didn’t say anything to his parents about wanting to run for president. Didn’t say anything to Joe Sutter when they went to the movies on Sunday.
Mostly, Pedro kept waiting for the idea to get out of his head.
Only it wouldn’t.
Even though the voice inside his head kept reminding him of one crucial point: Running for president of the school meant running against Ned Hancock.
Who never lost at anything.
He finally told Joe at lunch on Monday.
“Tell me I’m nuts,” Pedro said.
“No can do.”
“You don’t think running against Ned is nuts?”
“Nope.”
“Then you’re nuts,” Pedro said.
“Should have thought of this myself,” Joe said. “You ought to be president of this school, even if it does mean going up against Ned.”
“Right,” Pedro said. “Piece of cake. He’s the
Similar Books
Just Her Type
Jo Ann Ferguson
Forbidden Liaison: They lived and loved for the here and now
Patricia I. Smith
Never Say Never
Kailin Gow
The Killer Book of Cold Cases
Tom Philbin
Jenna's Cowboy Hero
Brenda Minton
Sworn
Emma Knight
The 2 12 Pillars of Wisdom
Alexander McCall Smith
Eye of the Wolf
Margaret Coel
Melanthrix the Mage
Robert Reginald
The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains
Jason R Jones