MULLIGAN 4

Practice was always strenuous.  Killers they ran.  And ran.

From the restraining line because there wasn't room for all 12 to run hard and stop before crashing into the stage and heading back again to the free throw line, then to center court, then to the opposing free throw line, to the opposing restraining line and back. And back.

The team ran before, during, and after practice.  No team they played all year was in better condition.  They pressed every team, every play.  They had gone to State, as it's simply called, but finished fourth the previous year losing to a suburban Chicago team and then the Chicago Public League Champions, St. Joseph in a tight third place game.

All starters returning for their junior or senior years, the  storied Rams from the deep south were ready for a return trip to Champaign-Urbana.

No complaints from any player.  Dedication had been drummed into them since their grade school days.

"Just enough to keep the defense honest."

"But you're a great shooter."

"There are better.  Besides my role is defense.  And feeding."

"But you're a great shooter."

"We've been over this before, Dad,"

"But you're not listening."

It wouldn't matter much in three weeks and two days anyhow.