Toby Wheeler: Eighth Grade Benchwarmer

Toby Wheeler: Eighth Grade Benchwarmer

Fans of John Feinstein and Matt de la Peña will love Toby Wheeler's dreams of being a basketball star that Phil Jackson says is "a truly great basketball story." And don't miss Thatcher Heldring's newest novel, The Football Girl --about a girl who follows her passion for the game and tries out for the football team! When Toby Wheeler has a chance to join the junior high basketball team, he’s eager to prove he can keep up with his best friend, JJ. But practice doesn’t go quite as Toby has planned, and when the coach announces the lineup, Toby’s hopes of playing ball with JJ are history: he’s an eighth-grade benchwarmer! " A truly great basketball story. Every hoops fan will love this book.”—Phil Jackson , former head coach of the Los Angeles Lakers and member of the NBA Hall of Fame "This novel will appeal to readers who are looking for something one step beyond Matt Christopher's books. "— SLJ "This engaging sports story gains depth from subplots involving Toby's tricky relationships with his former best friend and with the coach's daughter."– The Horn Book "Looking for something to do during halftime of the March Madness basketball games? Read this book. ”- The Washington Post "With so much written about the friction between girl friends, it's good to have a book that acknowledges that left-out feeling happens to boys, too ."– Booklist " A truly great basketball story. Every hoops fan will love this book.”—Phil Jackson , former head coach of the Los Angeles Lakers and member of the NBA Hall of Fame " Engaging...will appeal to readers who are looking for something one step beyond Matt Christopher's books. "— SLJ "This engaging sports story gains depth from subplots involving Toby's tricky relationships with his former best friend and with the coach's daughter."– The Horn Book "Looking for something to do during halftime of the March Madness basketball games? Read this book. ”- The Washington Post "With so much written about the friction between girl friends, it's good to have a book that acknowledges that left-out feeling happens to boys, too ."– Booklist THATCHER HELDRING grew up in the Pacific Northwest, where he taught himself to write and play sports—though not at the same time. Heldring has had several jobs in publishing. He has also worked as a grocery bagger, a ditchdigger, a small forward, a goalie, a scorekeeper, a coach, a rabid fan, a benchwarmer, and a shortstop. He lives with his wife and son in Seattle, a good place for indoor sports.    He is the author of Toby Wheeler: Eighth-Grade Benchwarmer, Roy Morelli Steps Up to the Plate, The League , and The Football Girl . To learn more about Thatcher and his books, visit him online at spitballinc.com or follow @theldring on Twitter. For as long as I’d been playing basketball, all I’d ever wanted to be was a gym rat. I was just happy playing the game. All the other stuff--coaches, practices, and drills--got in the way. Take my best friend, JJ. When varsity basketball practices started Monday, his sorry butt would be stuck in the school gym five days a week until January, while I was living free, playing pickup ball at our local rec center. Sure, there were those nights when JJ would bring down the house with a game winner and I would get just a little jealous because I wasn’t down there on the court with him. But that was how it had always been, and as far as I knew, that was how it would always be. I was the gym rat and he was the star. How that all changed started around Halloween--which had a lot do with it, too. We were playing pickup ball with the gym rats. It was five on five and as always, we were playing to eleven, win by two, which meant the game continued until one team scored two straight baskets. If the teams traded baskets, like we had been doing for twenty minutes, there was no telling how long it would go on. At the moment, I had two things on my mind. Trick-or-treating. And of course beating Vinny Pesto. Vinny was first. He was the captain of the basketball team at Hamilton Middle School--our school’s archrival. Vinny and I had been going at it since the sixth grade. He never let me forget that Hamilton had won the league championship the year before. And I never let him forget that he was a cherry-picking ball-hog chump who wore his team jersey to open gym--major loser move. I had just missed a jump shot and now Vinny was letting me hear about it, as usual. “That’s a nice two-handed jump shot, Wheeler,” he said. “They teach you that at Gym Rat Junior High?” “That’s a nice costume, Pesto,” I shot back quickly. “I didn’t know they sold dog-butt masks.” I used my jersey to wipe the sweat from my hands and smiled, thinking how Vinny was one of the best things and worst things about open gym. The worst because he always seemed to get me in the end. The best because without him, it wouldn’t be any fun. JJ was taking it easy that day, holding back. Every once in a while we’d try to run some no-look pa