Rivals by Tommy Greenwald (top 100 novels of all time .txt) 📕

player like him. I trained hard, spent hours analyzing just about every game I ever played. I even had a special diet, and I could only have ice cream if we won. But it didn’t work. I wasn’t a great player, and I was never going to be a great player. And when I saw you play that first game of the year, I thought, that’s what I’m supposed to be. And it made me mad, you know? But then, when Clay came back, we played a game of one-on-one, and he beat me, and the world didn’t end. And that day at AAU practice when you came back, and I didn’t take those foul shots, and my teammates started treating me with respect, everything just kind of changed for me. I realized I could let the dream go. I could still love basketball, but it didn’t have to be everything to me anymore. Winning didn’t have to be everything. I didn’t have to tell a kid to play hurt. I didn’t have to be the leading scorer or the best player. I didn’t have to care that much. I just didn’t.”

Austin stops talking and looks at me. Waiting for me to respond. So I do.

“It’s been a little different for me, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

I hesitate, at first. Then I start talking.

“You wanted to be better than you were, but I kind of wanted to be worse than I was.” It’s not something I’ve ever said out loud, or even realized before. “Everyone thinks it must be totally awesome to be so good at something, and sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s the greatest feeling in the world. But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s too much. Too much attention, too much pressure, too many expectations. I mean, look what happened with the cheating thing—I don’t even love basketball that much, but even so, I did, like, this really dumb thing, because I thought I had to. I literally thought it was the only choice, that if I couldn’t play basketball then everything would be ruined. I mean, I like basketball, I really do. Maybe I even love it. But sometimes it felt like I had to LIVE it. And I didn’t want that.”

“I did want to live it,” Austin says.

“Is that why you cheated too?” I ask him.

Austin looks shocked. “Cheated? What do you mean? I didn’t cheat.”

“You sort of did, though.” He stares at me blankly, and I realize he has no idea what I’m talking about. “Playing on the AAU team because your dad sponsored the team? Taking a spot from some kid out there who’s a better player, but who didn’t have the money to pay?”

“That’s different,” Austin says, defensively.

“Kind of different,” I say, “but kind of the same.”

“You didn’t have the money to pay, and you’re on the team.”

“That’s because your dad and Coach Cash knew I’d help them win and build their program. That’s how it works, we both know that.”

Austin doesn’t answer that one, which is fine by me. The last thing I want to do is get into another fight with him. I don’t have the strength for it, for one thing. Luckily, he seems to feel the same way.

“I guess things don’t always work out the way we want them to,” I say, finally.

“Or maybe they work out exactly how they’re supposed to.”

My phone buzzes, and I look down. It’s my mom, texting that she’s working an hour late, but bringing fried chicken home for dinner.

BOOO, I text her back, BUT ALSO YAY!!!

“How about now?” Austin asks. “How do you feel about basketball now?”

“When I come back,” I tell him, “I’m gonna start over. And maybe learn to love the game, you know, on my terms.”

“That sounds about right.”

We fall silent. We’re both breathing kind of hard, like all that talking took something out of us. I shift the pillows under my head. My elbow starts to hurt. It’s like my injuries are in some kind of pain rotation, and now it’s my elbow’s turn. Later, my back will want a turn, I know that much.

“I should go,” Austin says.

“Okay,” I say.

“Can I come visit again?”

“Yeah, that’d be cool.”

“Awesome.”

I shake my head. “Man, everything was so much more chill when it was just a bunch of us playing in the park, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, you know it,” Austin says, laughing. “Free Shoot. Running around, sweating, playing game after game until they told us we couldn’t play anymore.”

“Just pure ball. That’s what I want. That’s what I miss.”

I close my eyes to remember. I can almost hear our little kid voices, and feel the hot black concrete under my feet, and taste the lemonade I used to buy from the hot dog guy.

I open my eyes.

“Hey, I got a crazy idea,” I say. “I mean, it’s nothing we can do right now, but when I’m better, it might be kind of cool.”

Austin looks curious. “What is it?”

I tell him.

Turns out he doesn’t think it’s so crazy, after all.

DOUBLE OVERTIME

Three Months Later

ALFIE:

Hello everyone, and welcome to another exciting day of basketball. Even though the official season ended a while ago, we have one last game to bring to you today. But I’m not coming to you from the Walthorne South Gymnasium, where I usually call games. No siree, today we’re here at the beautiful Tompkins Park courts, where the Panthers of Walthorne South will be taking on the Cougars of Walthorne North. That’s right, the boys basketball game that was canceled way back in March has been rescheduled for today. Not by the schools, not by the athletic conference, but by the kids. They are just going to go out there and play. No refs, no audience, no adults of any kind. Because that’s how they want it . . .

AUSTIN

In the car on the way to the park, my dad is talking about how he used to drop me here every Saturday. “Man, we couldn’t keep