The rout was on. The Waukesha Blackshirts, Wisconsin’s number one ranked high school team, was trouncing my Shorewood Bulldogs. There was nothing I could do about it. We had hung tough in the first half and trailed by only nine at the break, but in the 3rd quarter Waukesha started to roll. Their star, Roy Burke, had 30 points by the end of the quarter
I glanced down at the end of the bench and saw Matthew sitting on the edge of his chair. His paperwork had still not arrived at game time and he was not eligible to play. At half time, my assistant coach told me the paperwork was due any minute from his high school in California. I couldn’t help but wonder if he would have made any difference. There was no question he was good, but the team we were playing had five players better than any of my other starters.
The score was 61-40 when the 3rd quarter mercifully ended. The team gathered around me and I could see the dazed look in their eyes. They were beaten. “Come on, kids, don’t stop trying. We still have a chance,” I said without conviction. We were overmatched, and to make it worse, my star player, Rodney, was having a terrible shooting day.
The 4th quarter started off the way the third quarter ended. Tim Rappis, the Waukesha point guard stole the ball from our guards and came down one-against-two on a fast break. He made two sensational fakes, dribbled between his legs and broke to his left. Our guards collided while he went in unmolested for a lay-up. He was laughing and pointing at our players as he ran back up the court.
Matthew wasn’t accustomed to seeing his team lose and his anger erupted when he saw what Rappis did. There is no excuse for rubbing it in like that. “Come on, play basketball!” I heard Matthew shout in anger. I looked down the bench and saw a determined look that I had not seen before. At that moment my assistant coach came running from the locker room holding papers in his hand. His smile told me that the eligibility papers had arrived.
A pass was deflected out of bounds stopping the clock. “Matthew, go in for Jerry at center,” I shouted, not waiting for my assistant to arrive. Matthew was up like a shot, racing to the scorer’s table while stripping off his warm-up suit. His eagerness betrayed him as he tripped over his warm-up pants and fell awkwardly to the floor, much to the delight of the 5,000-plus Waukesha crowd. Laughter erupted throughout the gymnasium.
Matthew seemed to pay no mind to the crowd, but instead concentrated upon loosening up. He had been sitting on the bench for almost two hours. The laughter and abuse continued while he jumped and ran short sprints to loosen his legs. Paper cups were thrown on the floor causing a delay while the mess was cleaned. Matthew continued to loosen up and seemed unaffected by the verbal assault. He had the same steely look in his eyes that I had noticed previously. He was ready to play.
Insults continued to rain down from the crowd; “teach your players to walk before they run,” one fan shouted. “He looks like a jumping jack rather than a basketball player,” another voice rang out. A third voice asked if we were putting in our B-team because we had given up.
The referees and Waukesha coach implored the crowd for silence. Inexplicably, the crowd quieted and there was complete silence, until a small voice rang out to break the spell, “you can do it Matthew, I know you can.”
It was a squeaky voice, off key, almost timid, but it shattered the silence. The sound had come from Jennifer, our head cheerleader. The Waukesha crowd again erupted in laughter and jeers. A number of falsetto voices emanated from the crowd mocking the cheerleader. Jennifer stood there embarrassed, helpless and alone and looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole until Matthew walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. The crowd became mute. “Thank you for believing in me, Jennifer,” I heard him say, “It means a lot to me. I’ll do my best, but I need your help,” he said as he looked at the other cheerleaders. “We need to get the crowd behind us. Spread the floor during time outs and get the fans to cheer for us.”
“These are Waukesha fans,” one of the girls complained. “Why would they cheer for us?”
“They are Waukesha fans now, but they appreciate good basketball and a team that gives 100%. Trust me. They will all be cheering for us at the end of the game.” He gave Jennifer a light kiss on the cheek and trotted back to his team’s huddle.
There were only a couple dozen or so Shorewood fans at the game, mostly parents and family of the players. Among them were Matthew’s father and younger sister, Kelly. I heard later that Ray proclaimed, “I’ll take our boys, even-up.”
“You’re crazy,” one of the other dads answered. “We’re down 23 points with seven and a half minutes to play. I’ll take that bet.”
“Okay, you’re on for one dollar. Now sit back and enjoy the show, I’ve never seen my boy this focused.”