“In this case, the ball is the shiny object. The other team worries so much about what the guy with it might do, they forget to watch for the open man. Or two open men, in this case.”

There was that light in his eyes again. He was Gramps again. Maybe Lucas’s mom had been right. Maybe everybody had a bad day, or night, once in a while. Lucas told himself that he still wasn’t giving up on his paper, not by a long shot. He imagined that he was the one drawing up a great play, one that might just take a little extra time to develop. Then once he got started, once he started writing it, Gramps would see that all Lucas was doing was finding a new way to respect him, and even honor him.

Then the play would make sense to both of them.

But he wasn’t going to bring it up tonight. They were having a good practice. They were coming off a good win. They had another game on Saturday, against a tough opponent. It was all ball tonight.

Gramps left enough time at the end for one of their practice games. He said they were going to do things a little differently tonight: All he was going to do was keep score, and run the clock. He made Lucas the coach of one team. He let Neil coach the other. As always, he didn’t talk about the first unit or the second unit. He never did that, and was always telling Lucas he hated it when college and pro coaches used those expressions.

“The team is the unit,” Gramps said. “You’re either in, or you’re out.”

Each team could run as many or as few plays as it wanted. They could fast break as much, or as little, as they wanted. And press when they wanted. The starter wore blue mesh pinnies. The other guys wore red.

“Play like it’s the playground tonight,” he said. “But if somebody calls a foul, it sure as sugar better be a foul.”

It was as if somebody had turned up the volume in the gym. The game was close. Every time Lucas or Ryan or Billy or Richard would get the blue team ahead by a couple baskets, the red team would come right back at them, riding the hot hand of Neil from the start.

They were finally a few minutes past when practice was supposed to have ended. The game was tied again. Gramps finally got up from the scorer’s table where he’d been working the clock and said that since they couldn’t play all night, he was going to flip a coin to determine which team would get the last possession.

Lucas got to call. He called heads.

Heads it was.

“Blues get one shot at this,” Gramps said. “If they score, they win. If the reds get a stop, they win.”