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Stakes of the Game
Chapter Thirteen: Magic, Luck and Destiny As Dykstra, Weg, Timmer, Kok and Bratt came out of the huddle and returned to the floor for the last time, they were dragging. Without the luxury of liberal substitutions to catch the occasional breather, with the temperature in the fieldhouse a stultifying 90 degrees, and with the regulation 32 minutes and two overtime periods behind them, the Lyncs had almost nothing left. Except a little magic. A little luck. Perhaps a little destiny. As the Knights worked the ball for the last shot, Dykstra anticipated a pass, made his move and deflected the ball enough to control it. In that instant, Weg broke for the other end, and Dykstra passed to him in stride. Weg -- perhaps reading the mind of his coach, Bill DeHoog, who had tried all year to get Dykstra to take the big shot -- passed the ball back to Dykstra, who went up with five seconds left, shot ... and sank it for a 62-60 lead. With the throng in the stands -- heavily weighted toward the Lyncs -- howling and applauding, Royal City called for a timeout. The referee waved for a stoppage of the clock with two seconds remaining and, to everyone's amazement, signaled a technical foul. Royal City had no timeouts remaining. The crowd, at least two-thirds full of Lyncs rooters, erupted in applause, and students began making their way down to the edge of the court, so they could take part in post-game pandemonium. They watched as, first, Dykstra hit a free throw and, when the Lyncs got the ball again after the technical, Timmer was instantly fouled. By the time Timmer stood at the line for the two free throws that made the final score Lynden Christian 65, Royal City 60, hundreds of Lyncs fans were already lining the court on four sides waiting to celebrate the group that headlines and history would forever dub the Six Iron Lyncs. When the buzzer went off and those rapturous hundreds became that tidal wave of joy, the only two stock-still people on the court were Glen Dykstra and Bill DeHoog -- who were looking for each other in the crowd. Ten years later, Weg would recall getting chills watching this scene: Fans trying to hoist DeHoog onto their shoulders, and him having none of it ... and then the coach's eyes meeting Dykstra's. That moment, Weg would say, was one he would never forget. Those two men -- one young, one not so young, their lives so entwined for the most magical of seasons -- exchanged a little expression of joy, of relief, of accomplishment. Each gave the other a little nod. And then were swept away in a swirling mass of joyous faces.
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