It ignites Colby’s own emotions,spurring him on,until he’s the one in the lead,his friends flanking him on either side as they hurry to make the next game.It’s mid-afternoon and the crowds are at their thickest;sunbathers and kids from the beach and boardwalk have wandered over to see how the tournament’s going.People stand in clusters,eating Italian ice or hot dogs,sipping slushy drinks,watching kites or the distant advertisement banners being towed by small airplanes off the ocean.Colby ducks and weaves his way between them,angling for the court marker that flaps up ahead in the breeze.As he barrels through,he laughs at how silly they must look,then at the thought of being late.Would the officials be able to forfeit a game if neitherteam showed up on time?