At the other end, Corey began to dominate Lucas the way he had when they were in the sixth grade.

The Jazz coach kept isolating Corey on Lucas, on one side of the court or the other. Corey kept backing Lucas in, backing him in a little more, getting to where he wanted on the court, then shooting over him.

Just like last year.

Lucas tried to overplay. He took chances on steals. Corey kept scoring. The Jazz got up six points with four minutes to play. Corey stepped back on Lucas and made a three-pointer. They were up nine.

Gramps called time.

“We’re fine,” he said.

“We’re not fine!” Lucas said, louder than he meant. He wasn’t mad at Gramps today. He was mad at himself. “I can’t guard that guy,” he said.

“You did pretty well until the last few minutes,” Gramps said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lucas said. “He’s killing us. Please put somebody else on him.”

Gramps ignored him. He turned to Ryan and Richard and Billy and Sharif. “Let’s try our half-court trap on D,” he said. “Ryan and Billy, you run at the guy with the ball as soon as he’s over the line.”

The ref blew his whistle. The other four Wolves players in the game headed back on the court. Lucas started to follow them.

Gramps gently put a hand on his arm.

“Sam,” the ref said. “Time-out’s over.”

“One second,” he said. “Talking to my grandson.”

He knelt down in front of Lucas. Lucas could see it took some effort, and could see the pain on his face. He kept his voice low.

“You may not like it,” he said, “but you’ve still got a lot of me in you. A big part of it better be that you’re not a quitter, because I sure as heck never was. Only, you sounded like a quitter just now.” He held up a finger, as a way of letting the ref know that the conference with Lucas was ending. “I’ll take you off that big kid, if that’s what you want. But if I do, I’m taking you out of this game. Is that what you want?”

“No,” Lucas said.

“You’re the one getting knocked down right now,” he said. “Now it’s your turn to show some rope and get yourself back up.”

Lucas didn’t say another word. He just nodded. He went back to join his teammates. It was Wolves ball. Lucas got away from Corey, looked as if he might drive to the right, but whirled suddenly and threw a bullet of a crosscourt pass to Ryan.

Ryan didn’t hesitate, just stepped back from Max and made a three.

The Wolves were down six.

Corey threw the ball ahead to Max, but Ryan and Billy swallowed him up on a trap. Ryan took the ball away, cleanly, drove the court, laid the ball in.