The Million Dollar Shot: Chapters 9–17

As Mom reluctantly shook Finkle’s hand, he leaned closer to her and said softly, “I understand you used to work for my company, Mrs. Ball. I just want to tell you I’m sorry I had to terminate so many employees recently.”
“Business is business,” Mom said grimly. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

As Mom reluctantly shook Finkle’s hand, he leaned closer to her and said softly, “I understand you used to work for my company, Mrs. Ball. I just want to tell you I’m sorry I had to terminate so many employees recently.”
“Business is business,” Mom said grimly. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“You’re modest, too,” Finkle continued. “I like that. Tell me, Eddie. Did you ever play ball with a lot of people watching?”
“No.”

“Not to mention all the people and rats who might get sick or die from eating Finkles,” I added.
“Of course,” he said dismissively. “Them, too...."

“Eddie,” he said, looking me in the eyes. “I want you to miss the shot.”
“Miss it?” I said, flabbergasted. I stopped walking. “You mean, miss it on purpose?”

Finkle and his entourage packed up their gear and left quickly, followed by some people calling out rude comments to him. When all the gawkers were gone, Mom asked me what Finkle had said to me in private. I simply told her that Finkle wished me good luck.

Finkle and his entourage packed up their gear and left quickly, followed by some people calling out rude comments to him. When all the gawkers were gone, Mom asked me what Finkle had said to me in private. I simply told her that Finkle wished me good luck.

“Mr. Finkle,” I said, trying my best to sound assertive. “I’ve decided that I’m going to try to make the shot.”

“You’re gonna miss, loser!” an eerie voice said.
“Who is this?” I demanded. But the caller hung up.

“I have a better idea,” Annie said. “Keep your mouth shut. If word gets out that Finkle is trying to tamper with his own contest, the whole thing might be called off. And that’s exactly what he wants.”

“That’s right,” Mr. Stokely agreed. “When it’s just me and you in this gym, I’ve seen you hit 90, sometimes 95 percent of your shots. But as soon as there’s some noise, a little commotion, you start to miss. Don’t matter how good a shooter you are if you can’t do it with the pressure on...."

He looked like the guy I’d spotted with the camcorder earlier, but I couldn’t tell for sure. The guy struggled to his feet and quickly hobbled out of the gym without saying a word to anyone.

Mrs. Ball, ironically, is a former employee of Finkle Foods. She was laid off recently.

To get over the nervousness of my first plane ride, I got real goofy and obnoxious.

I was hoping that we would get to see the Empire State Building while we were in New York. Unfortunately, Annie’s dad nixed that idea.

“We tried to get an interview with young Eddie Ball,” the sports guy said. “But he’s in seclusion somewhere in a New York hotel tonight. Tomorrow at this time, he might be a millionaire. If you’re listening, Eddie, knock ’em dead, kid! New York City is rootin’ for ya!”

Toward the end of practice, Mom and Mr. Stokely came out from behind the curtain, acting as if nothing unusual had been going on. I missed my next shot, and the two after that. I was seething.

Mr. Stokely knew his way around New York City because he had played college ball there. Walking down the street was weird. The first thing I noticed was that there was no grass. These puny trees were growing right out of little patches of dirt in the middle of concrete.

“Eddie! I’m so happy to see you again!” he said in his slimy, insincere way. “I’d like you come with me to pose for pictures with some fans.”

Finkle started to choke on the pork chop. I thought I might have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him, but his son smacked him on the back and he stopped gagging.

Finkle started to choke on the pork chop. I thought I might have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him, but his son smacked him on the back and he stopped gagging.

The kid must have been about six or seven and looked like Dennis the Menace.

Finkle had a waiter get me a soda. He also brought a big plate of shrimp, which I love but hardly ever get to eat because it’s real expensive. I wolfed down a bunch of them.

The crowd erupted into cheers. There was a smattering of hoots, too. I thought I heard some people chanting “Air Ball! Air Ball!”

I touched my nose and this gigantic finger touched the nose on the screen. It felt like I was playing one of those virtual reality video games. It was disorienting.

“Mom, I’ve got triple vision,” I said, holding her arm for support. “I see three rims out there.”
“Well,” chortled Finkle, “just aim for the one in the middle, Eddie!”

I scanned the seats one more time for Annie. When she caught my eye, she looked at me and deliberately closed her eyes. I looked at her quizzically. She stared right back. She put her fingers up to her eyelids and pretended she was pulling her eyelids down like they were window shades.

I scanned the seats one more time for Annie. When she caught my eye, she looked at me and deliberately closed her eyes. I looked at her quizzically. She stared right back. She put her fingers up to her eyelids and pretended she was pulling her eyelids down like they were window shades.

The ball was losing speed now. It was just a question of whether it would topple over on the inside of the rim and into the net or outside the rim.

And then the ball dropped through the net.
Pandemonium. It was like fireworks went off inside Madison Square Garden.