Split Decision

By Todd Hafer

Stand-out efforts on the freshman football and basketball teams have Cody Martin in demand with both the track and baseball coaches. And to complicate matters further, his personal life's a mess since his dad remarried-and now Cody thinks Pork Chop might be using performance-enhancing drugs. When Pork Chop's coach confronts Cody, he is forced to make a tough decision-lie to the coach or risk losing his best friend. What's the right thing to do?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zondervan
• Release date: Feb 23, 2010
• ISBN: 9780310870555

Todd Hafer

Todd Hafer is an award-winning writer with more than 30 books to his credit. His teen/young adult novel Bad Idea was a Christy Award finalist in the youth category, and its sequel, From Bad to Worse, was named one of the top 10 books of the year by Christian Fiction Review. Battlefield of the Mind for Teens, which he co-wrote with Joyce Meyer, has been a best seller on both the Christian Retailing and CBA lists, and recently reached number one on amazon.com’s teen/spirituality best-seller list. He also collaborated with Don Miller on Jazz Notes: Improvisations on Blue Like Jazz. A parent of four teenagers and one wayward rescue dog, Todd and his wife, JoNell, live in Shawnee, Kansas.

Book preview

Rivalries Renewed

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Cody felt Bobby Cabrera’s forearm crash on his head as he released his layup attempt. After ensuring that he landed safely back on the court, he turned to face the familiar foe who cheap-shotted him, just as he had done when the two were seventh and eighth graders.

Cabrera sneered at him. Watcha gonna do, Martin? Your big bodyguard Porter ain’t around.

Don’t need a bodyguard, Cody answered dryly.

A referee stepped between the two of them, staring down Cabrera first, then Cody. You want me to T you both up? he asked.

No, sir, Cody said. It’s just that he committed a flagrant foul.

I’ll call the game, son, the ref admonished.

Yes, sir, Cody said. He bowed his head in a show of contrition, then stepped to the foul line for his free throw.

Cody completed the three-point play, extending the Grant High School freshman team’s lead over East High to six points. He glanced at the game clock as he ran back to take his position on the lower-right side of the Eagles’ 2–1–2 zone defense. Only fifty-eight seconds remained. I can’t believe Coach Clayton has us in a zone, he thought. If Cabrera hits a couple of threes, they’ll be right back in this.

As if on cue, Cabrera stopped three feet from the top of the key and launched a line drive jumper. The ball hit nothing but net.

Fortunately for Grant, it was just the bottom of the net. Cody doubted that Cabrera’s shot ever had enough height to have a chance of going in. Well, he mused as he gathered in the rebound and waited to be fouled again, I guess Coach knows what he’s doing after all. Come to think of it, I don’t remember East hitting an outside shot all day.

Cody hit the first of his free throws, but the second one orbited the rim once, then curled out. Cabrera slid into the lane for the rebound, then wheeled 180 degrees and charged downcourt. Cody trailed him, knowing that his southpaw opponent would veer to his left. Cody accelerated to his left before Cabrera did.

When Cabrera did veer, Cody was ready. He poked the ball free from Cabrera’s left hand, spoiling a chance for a breakaway layup. Cabrera smacked his hands together in disgust as the ball rolled across the left sideline near the Grant bench.

That’s good D there, dawg, Coach Clayton called out. Way to anticipate!

East inbounded the ball, and once again the Grant five packed themselves into the zone defense. Cabrera fired from the baseline this time. His shot rattled in, but the ref closest to the play indicated that his foot had been on the three-point line, rather than behind it. The Angels still trailed by five, and now the clock was ticking down to the game’s final thirty seconds.

Cody inbounded the ball to Greg Gannon, the starting point guard, thanks to Terry Alston, the class’ best athlete, making varsity. Don’t shoot, Gannon, Cody admonished. Take the air outta the ball!

Ha! Gannon replied cryptically.

The Angels were in a half-court trap, but as soon as Gannon crossed the backcourt foul line, they swarmed him.

You got help behind you! Cody called.

Instantly, Gannon flipped the ball back over his head. Cody corralled the ball and darted to the left side of the court. He saw Cabrera coming to cut him off near half-court. Cody jump-stopped, then faked a football-style pass downcourt. Cabrera bit on the fake, just as Cody knew he would. The East guard leaped into the air, both hands over his head, as if he were a stickup victim.

Just as Cabrera’s feet touched the well-polished hardwood, Cody sprang up, looking for Brett Evans on the left wing. He fired a two-handed overhead pass to Brett, who, in turn, relayed a touch pass to his twin brother, Bart, near the top of the key. Bart panicked as he saw Cabrera charging toward him, and he quickly released an ill-advised shot from well beyond his range.

Fortunately, Grant center Matt Slaven, six feet two inches and growing like the national debt, slid into position to collect the rebound, as the ball glanced off the front of the rim.

DeLong, East’s center, bear-hugged Slaven like a long-lost relative, drawing the foul. Slaven swished his first charity toss, but the other one bounded high off the heel of the rim. DeLong snared the rebound and smoked an outlet pass to a streaking Cabrera.

Cabrera pulled up five feet from the three-point arc on the left wing and lofted a high-arcing jumper. The ball glanced off the glass backboard and dropped neatly through the hoop. Cody was sure Cabrera hadn’t meant to go glass, but scoreboards didn’t care about intentions. The game now stood at 48 to 45, with just four seconds remaining. Cody hustled to the baseline to collect the ball from the referee. This time, there was no fake half-court press from East. The Angels went into a full-court, man-to-man press, with Cabrera leaping like a crazed aerobics instructor in front of Cody as he tried to inbound the ball. Bart set a pick for his brother along the baseline. Brett used his brother’s body to shed his defender and dart toward Cody. Cody flipped him the ball—then Brett batted it, volleyball style, right back to Cody. Coach Clayton had put this press-busting move into the Eagles’ arsenal only days before.

The Angels weren’t expecting such a quick exchange. Cabrera had moved into position to foul Brett, but by the time he swatted him across the arm, the ball had already been relayed to Cody. Cody dribbled down the right sideline, counting down the final seconds in his head. He saw DeLong stalking him over his left shoulder, but the game-ending buzzer blared before the big man caught him.

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A freshman conference tournament trophy is a sweet thing, Coach Clayton shouted in the home locker room, holding up a gold statuette roughly the size of Cody’s shoe—nine and one-half. Cody started to nod his head, then stopped himself.

Of course, the lanky coach continued, "it woulda been sweeter if we had made the tournament finals, but third place ain’t half-bad. Especially when you consider that we started the season zero and four. I’m proud of you guys."

"Dude, I wanted that first-place trophy, Brett Evans muttered, apparently to no one in particular. I wanted it bad."

Coach Clayton forced a grin. "You’ll get some bigger hardware someday, Mr. Evans. You gotta remember, we lost Pork Chop Porter and Alston to varsity—and Terrance Dylan to the JVs. And we lost Marcus Berringer, ’cuz he’s a knucklehead who thinks he can break curfew and get away with it. You boys gotta understand; I sometimes get a midnight craving for convenience-store burritos too. And if I see you at 24/7 Mart, you are so busted! Just ask Marcus.

"Anyway, enough about that. Here’s what you need to be thinking about right now—In a year or two, you’ll all be playing together, and you’re gonna be a sure-enough force. Just think about what you coulda done at this tournament with Chop, Alston, and TD in the mix. You woulda gone through this thing like a hot knife through warm butter. It puts a smile on my big ol’ country face just thinkin’ about it. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for this basketball team."

After Coach Clayton had shaken hands with each of his players, he exited the locker room to watch the championship game. Once the coach was safely out the door, Bart Evans turned to Cody. That was cool what Clayton said at the end of his speech, about our future—when we’re reunited with our big dawgs again, but has he forgotten that Chop is probably going to move away this summer?

I don’t know, Cody muttered. "But I would sure like to forget it."

Cody showered and dressed quickly. He was eager to see the tournament championship game, pitting the Lincoln frosh against Holy Family. Lincoln was the favorite, led by Locke, the Lancers’ hard-nosed forward, and Miles, a much-improved point