Chapter 2; The Mighty Chickens

Pandemonium reigned inside the Tootville High School gymnasium. The highly partisan crowd roared raucously for their team–the mighty Tootville Chickens, but Fishface, the strangest looking girl in the school, only had eyes for one thing – her idol, Tommy Dinkle, the best player on the team.
“I’m gonna get that man!” she suddenly screamed to no one in particular. Maybe it was the coke bottle lenses on her glasses, which made her eyes appear owlishly large, or perhaps it was the light brown hair which stuck out at odd angles from her head in two tightly knit braids, or her pink dress with the light green polka dots, but whatever the reason the boy sitting on her left in the stands scooted slowly away from her and pulled his baseball cap down to cover his face. The hard fought battle between the Tootville Chickens and the Midvale Manglers was nearly over. The Chickens had the basketball and moved it easily downcourt. Coach Dribble, the four-foot tall Tootville coach, stood on the bottom row of the bleachers with a towel in one hand, yelling instructions to his team over the din made by the fans.
“Set it up! Number three! Number three!” The coach waved three diminutive fingers.
Spaz, who had the basketball at the three point line above the top of the key, squinted as he peered in the direction of the coach. He stared hard and then finally nodded his head. “Number four!” he yelled.
Coach Dribble threw down his towel in disgust. Spaz passed the ball to Tommy, who got a great screen from fat, puffing Lardo. Tommy fired off a shot from well beyond the three point line. As the ball swished through the hoop, the partisan crowd roared again in appreciation.
Mister Beaker, the science teacher, was seated at the announcer’s table, holding a microphone. “Three-pointer by Tinkle!” he yelled.
Tommy turned toward the announcer’s table with a look of disgust on his face. “It’s Dinkle! Tommy Dinkle!”
The cheerleaders gave Tommy a cheer and Linda, the beautiful, blond head cheerleader, blew him a kiss. She and Tommy had been going steady for almost three months and it was truly a match made in heaven. The most beautiful girl in the school and the best athlete at Tootville High made a perfect pair.
The scoreboard read CHICKENS 54, MANGLERS 42 with just 14 seconds left to play in the game. The Manglers inbounded the ball while the Chickens applied intense backcourt pressure and at halfcourt Lardo came up with a steal. The crowd once again went wild. Lardo quickly passed the ball to Spaz who dribbled it clumsily toward the basket. He stopped almost underneath the rim that protruded from the beat-up backboard, took careful aim, and heaved up a two-footer. The ball rolled lazily around and around the rim, almost as if it were trying to make up its mind whether to sink down into the net for two points or spin out of the basket. The crowd groaned as it flipped up out of the hoop and dropped down toward the hardwood floor. The buzzer sounded to end the game and the fans, along with an ecstatic Fishface, leaped to their feet, cheering at the top of their voices. Victory was sweet.
Linda dropped the pompoms she was waving and raced toward Tommy, who was high-fiving with Lardo. She panted breathlessly as she reached her hero. “Tommy! Tommy! You were wonderful! Twenty points tonight.”
“Twenty-two.” Tommy tenderly corrected her.
Linda gazed up at Tommy with undying love in her big, blue eyes. “I just want you to know, Tommy Dinkle, I’ll love you forever.”
Tommy was about to respond but was suddenly swept away by his jubilant teammates. From the stands, Fishface watched Tommy with a fixed gaze as the team rushed out through the gymnasium exit. The look she was sending in his direction was the look of unrequited love.
The victorious Chickens boisterously pushed into the locker room where Coach Dribble was waiting. “Sit down! Sit down!” he yelled at the top of his undersized lungs.
The Chickens instantly quieted and quickly flopped their fannies onto the locker room benches in anticipation of some well-deserved compliments from their miniscule, but highly respected coach. Spaz found a place directly in front of Coach Dribble. Seated, Spaz began to pick his nose vigorously as he looked the miniature man straight in the eye. Coach Dribble stared at Spaz in utter disgust but nevertheless cleared his throat and launched into his customary after game speech. “I want to congratulate you, men. You’ve put out one hundred per cent this year and it’s paid off. No team in the history of this school has come as far as you have. It’s taken a lot of sweat. It’s taken a lot of pain… Like this.” The coach couldn’t take it anymore. He kicked Spaz hard in the leg. With tears welling up in his eyes, Spaz immediately removed his moist finger from his right nostril.
Coach Dribble continued. “But you can’t stop now. Thursday night we face the Irontown Maggots. Thursday night the season will be over. Win or lose you can still be proud because you will have come closer to a championship than any other team Tootville High has ever had. But if you win, you will be able to hold up your heads for the rest of your lives and say – “Yes! I was a part of it. I helped to make it happen. Because of me, the dream came true.”
Coach Dribble yelled, “Who wants it?”
The mighty Chickens screamed in unison, “We do!”
After the coach’s impassioned speech and the usual post game celebration, Tommy pulled his sweat-soaked jersey off and threw it over one shoulder as he walked down the locker room aisle toward the lockers and the showers. He noticed Spaz, head down, seated on the bench in front of his locker.
“In case you didn’t notice, Spaz, we won,” said Tommy.
“That’s easy for you to say,” replied Spaz, looking up sadly. “You scored twenty points tonight.”
“Twenty-two,” Tommy courteously corrected him.
“How can I say I was a part of it?” Spaz moaned morosely. “How can I say I helped make the dream come true? I haven’t scored a point all season. Fifty shots. Fifty misses. That’s not a dream. It’s a nightmare.”
“That is pretty lousy,” Tommy confessed.
“Incredibly lousy,” responded Spaz gloomily.
Tommy sat down on the bench next to Spaz and draped one arm around his shoulder. “You may find this hard to believe, Spaz, but once I was just like you are now. I couldn’t make a layup. I couldn’t sink a free throw. I looked like an absolute idiot when I dribbled.”
Spaz stared at Tommy in disbelief. “Really?” he asked hopefully.
Tommy crossed two fingers behind his back. “Scouts honor. It took a long time. People ridiculed me and laughed at me from morning until night. But I stuck it out and at last I became what you see now – the best basketball player Tootville High has ever had.”
“Gee,” said Spaz, holding his head up higher.
“You can do the same thing,” Tommy explained encouragingly. “Just hang in there and I promise you sooner or later the big one will drop for you.”
“Thanks, Tommy,” said Spaz, brightening up considerably.
Tommy grabbed an unused towel from off of the bench and walked toward his locker past Lardo, who was celebrating the victory by wolfing down his favorite treat–a can of beans. Lardo paused momentarily from his feast. His stomach gurgled as he smirked. “Liars go to hell, Dinkle.”
Tommy only smiled.