Troy arched a brow. “Gerry’s no longer with the Monarchs?”
Jaclyn nodded. “Do you know what that means?”
Troy sighed his relief. “That Gerry won’t have access to insider Monarchs information any longer.”
Jaclyn gestured toward him with her glass. “And you have your job back.”
Troy grinned. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while.”
Jaclyn nodded toward the court below them. “Let’s hope we get some more good news tonight.”
18
Andrea’s palms were sweating. On the court five rows beneath the media section, the Brooklyn Monarchs and Cleveland Cavaliers were in the final game of their seven-game series. The winner would move to the next round of the play-offs. The game clock counted down the remaining two minutes and thirty-seven seconds of the game. The Monarchs had ended the first half with a tenuous 7-point lead. During the last twenty-one minutes, Cleveland had cut their bank in half, Monarchs 87, Cleveland 83.
In the seat in front of her, the Cleveland Plain Dealer reporter had lost his jaded expression. The middle-aged man no longer seemed confident of the game’s outcome. Frankly, neither was Andrea.
Daniel Gibson, a Cleveland point guard, caught Jamal flatfooted at the post and grabbed the Monarchs’ rebound. Andrea’s gaze flew to DeMarcus coaching from the sideline. His sphinx-like mask dropped. She read his lips as he yelled one word, Jamal. The cocky point guard still had trouble on defense.
Gibson sped past Jamal and down the court to Cleveland’s basket. The Monarchs gave chase, but Gibson was a blur. His rapid reflexes and lightning speed kept the Cavaliers’ hopes alive. Behind Andrea, Cleveland fans leapt to their feet in thunderous approval.
Gibson drove the ball to the basket for an easy layup. Cleveland closed in on the Monarchs lead, 87 to 85 with two minutes and thirty-three seconds left to the game. Serge snatched the ball midair and lobbed it forward to Vincent. The Monarchs center jogged back up the court, dribbling the ball with him. The veteran role player managed the clock and controlled the speed. The sudden molasses-like pace made Andrea tense. But she understood the older Monarchs couldn’t allow the Cavaliers to force a faster tempo.
Behind Vincent, Warrick shared a few words with Jamal. The rookie point guard seemed uncomfortable even as he nodded his understanding. Had Warrick taken Jamal to task for his sloppy defense? The veteran had a gift for coaching on the court.
DeMarcus signaled for a twenty-second time-out. Andrea used the time to catch up with her copy. She sensed the reporters around her doing the same. Her fingers flew over the computer keys as she recapped the Cleveland plays and playmakers who were challenging the Monarchs’ lead as well as the team’s response as they fought back. She’d check for typos later.
The time-out ended. Andrea watched Jamal step up to defend Cleveland’s Gibson. She wondered what DeMarcus had said to inspire the rookie. Warrick jogged past Vincent as the center kicked the ball out to him. He positioned his teammates with words and gestures. Andrea read the game clock. With two minutes and twenty-seven seconds left to the game, the Monarchs’ lead stood at 2 points.
For the next seventy-five seconds, the lead went back and forth between the Cavaliers and the Monarchs. Gibson caught an easy shot from behind the perimeter for a three-point basket. The Cavaliers led the game, 101 to the Monarchs’ 98. Their fans went wild. One minute and twelve seconds left in the game.
Anthony pulled in the ball for the Monarchs, drawing it away from the basket before tossing it to Vincent. The Monarchs’ center hustled up court as Cleveland’s Ramon Sessions shadowed him. Antawn Jamison guarded Serge at the post. Gibson kept Jamal from the perimeter. Anderson Varejao, the Cavaliers’ forward, pressured Anthony on the right. Cleveland’s Anthony Parker shadowed Warrick on the left. The crowd chanted “Defense!” in one thunderous and insistent voice.
Vincent feinted forward, pushing the Cavaliers back before passing the ball to Anthony. Nineteen seconds on the shot clock. Anthony stepped away from Varejao, luring the Cavaliers’ defense toward him. Without a clear shot, he handed off to Warrick. Warrick caught the ball. Fifteen seconds on the shot clock. He spun toward the post, dribbling right. The Cavaliers followed him like the Pied Piper. Jamal remained unguarded just outside the perimeter. Warrick threw the ball behind him. Jamal claimed it on the bounce. He danced to the arc and leaped for the three-point swoosh. The game was tied at 101.
Forty-two seconds on the game clock. Gibson dribbled the ball back down court. Jamal hurried after him. The Monarchs defended their assignments in and around the pain
t. Anthony stood with Varejao. Vincent stayed with Sessions. Serge blocked Jamison. Warrick defended Parker. In her mind, Andrea screamed “Defense!”
Thirty-eight seconds on the clock. The Monarchs covered the Cavaliers’ offense like cheap suits. Jamal stepped up as Gibson surged for ward—and drew the foul. Otto Nunez, the head referee, blew his whistle. The game clock stopped. The Cavaliers and Monarchs lined up on either side of the paint, waiting for Gibson to take his two free throws. Andrea’s hopes remained high. Gibson was only forty-one percent at the line. Surely, he wouldn’t make both baskets.
The first shot rode the rim before diving through. The second shot sank cleanly. Cavaliers, 103; Monarchs 101. Andrea was disgusted. Now Gibson decided to improve his free-throw percentage? Now?
Anthony jumped for the ball. He heaved it up to Vincent. The game clock started counting down from thirty-eight.
DeMarcus shouted instructions from the sidelines. Warrick directed his teammates on the court. Andrea felt the tension from five rows up. Was it from the players or from her? Less than a minute remained. The Cavaliers were up by 2. The Monarchs could go for the tie and send the game into overtime. But Andrea sensed the players’ fatigue. If they didn’t win in regulation, could they keep up with the younger team in overtime?
The game clock showed thirty-four seconds. The shot clock read twenty. Vincent advanced the ball to Anthony, who sent a rainbow to the basket. The shot fell short. Varejao jumped for the rebound. Serge slapped it away. Sessions reached for the loose ball. Vincent grabbed it from him, keeping the ball for the Monarchs.
Twenty-four seconds and counting. The shot clock turned off. Andrea’s heart was beating too fast. She felt light-headed. Vincent hit Serge near the post. Serge passed the ball to Anthony. Nineteen seconds. Anthony faked a three. The Cavaliers surged forward, then shifted back. Anthony sent the ball back to Serge. Seventeen seconds. Serge stepped back and went for the tie. Jamison tipped the ball. The shot slapped the rim. Fourteen seconds. Serge grabbed his own rebound and hooked the ball to Jamal. Jamal went for the three. The shot came up short. Warrick leaped and tipped the ball in. The game was tied at 103. Overtime seemed inevitable.
Ten seconds on the game clock. The Cavaliers charged back down the court. Past half-court, Gibson sent the ball forward to Parker. Warrick stepped into the open lane and grabbed the ball in the air. He spun on a dime and sprinted back up court. Cavaliers’ fans screamed their dismay.
Eight seconds. Seven seconds. Gibson was gaining on him. Six seconds. Five seconds. Warrick leaped for the rim and stuffed the basket. Monarchs 105, Cavaliers 103.
Andrea blinked at the score. The Monarchs had won. They’d beaten the odds. After losing the first three games in the best-of-seven-games series, they’d swept the Cavaliers to advance in the play-offs. She didn’t think she’d ever stop smiling.
Monday morning, Troy got to the office early. He was determined to get the promotional campaign he and Jaclyn had approved back on track. Steam poured from his ears when he realized just how much damage Gerald had done to the schedule and the ads he’d had designed. Troy loosened his tie and freed the top button of his shirt.