The Game The first crazy thing about that day was that Sherman was absent. This was the day of the big basketball game between the fifth and sixth grades. Sherman was the captain of the fifth-grade team. Big Russell was angry because of Sherman. I was mad too. We just knew that the fifth grade would win this year 'cause Sherman was so good. As usual we went to the schoolyard after lunch. Amir came with us—quiet like always. All the boys practiced for the game except Big Russell. He sat by himself looking like a fat volcano ready to explode. We all knew to stay away from him when he got mad. Russell is okay but you always got to be so careful how you act with him. I went over to him, kind of nervous-like. Amir followed me. "Russell, what you think happened to Sherman?" I asked. "How I know? He just don't care, I guess." "Maybe he's sick," I said. "He ain't sick. He just don't care about us winning." Amir turned to Russell. "Don't you know how to play basketball?" Lordy, I said to myself.
