Two balls tumbled into a basket as the final buzzer sounded. Pandemonium erupted in the stands of Atlanta's Georgia Dome as the alliance led by the SciBorgs, the Bronx High School of Science's robot team, eked a victory in the playoffs. But none of the human spectators dared rush the court. Its slick, low-friction surface had been designed to simulate the gravitational effects of moving on the moon.

At first glance, the SciBorgs' journey from Bronx Science's basement workshop to last week's championship is a heartwarming tale of clever underdogs who clawed through an NCAA basketball-like tournament to reach the geek's version of the Final Four, in an event staged by FIRST: For Inspiration and Recognition of Science and Technology. But in the background is a darker story, for FIRST was founded by the prolific inventor Dean Kamen -- of insulin pump, mobile dialysis unit and Segway fame -- to counter what he saw as a dangerous decline in America's leadership in technology innovation.

Martin Kozlowski

Two decades ago, Mr. Kamen was alarmed by American youth culture's obsession with entertainment and athletics. "If their role models come from Hollywood and sports," he told me, "what do you think they're going to work hardest at? In a free society, you get what you celebrate." This culture was having a corrosive effect on education. Student interest in hands-on technology had dwindled. Administrators were dazzled by computers, terrified by the liability issues of students working with real tools, and squeezing more students into less classroom space. Tool-based workshops were out, text and screen-based classrooms were in. Industrial arts morphed into "technology education."

Mr. Kamen figured he could change that culture if he could find a way to celebrate inventiveness. "I wanted to do for problem solving and engineering what the NCAA and the Olympic Committee do for physical sports." In 1992, he invited 23 teams to build robots in a two-day event in a high-school gym in Manchester, N.H. As a logo he chose a geometrical revision of the Olympic symbol. The event quickly outgrew high-school gyms and spawned a set of regional competitions; elementary, middle and high school leagues; and an international championship. Five years ago -- to Mr. Kamen's delight -- the championship moved to that citadel of sports, Atlanta's 72,000-seat Georgia Dome.

The Bronx Science SciBorgs joined FIRST's high school league, FRC (FIRST Robotics Competition) in 2003. Three years later, following the agitation of some girls and the encouragement of Valerie Reidy, the school's first female principal, they got an all-girl sibling, the Iron (Fe26) Maidens. Last Jan. 3, the SciBorgs, Maidens and more than a thousand other teams tuned to the NASA channel to hear Mr. Kamen broadcast the 2009 challenge: Build a robot to maneuver in a low-gravity arena ("moon crater"), collect 9" balls ("moon rocks") and shoot them into baskets ("payload trailers").

Some geographically fortunate FIRST teams are allowed by nearby agencies or industries, such as NASA and DuPont, to use their workshops. After "Resistance," a north Florida team, scored a single humiliating point with its plywood-and-PVC robot in the 1996 competition, it sought help from an engineer whose hobby was restoring hot rods and who became so engrossed that he abandoned his hobby and refitted his workshop for the team. Morris High School in the South Bronx named its team the "2 Train Robotics" after the subway that its members ride to get to machine shops at Columbia University.

Bronx Science once had superb engineering shops on the school's top floor. But that school, too, has suffered; its workshops are now in the basement and continuing to dwindle. While many schools display their award-winning robots, shrinking space has forced Bronx Science to discard its last championship robot. Ms. Reidy has had to struggle to keep the SciBorgs supported.

Nevertheless, the 2009 SciBorgs built a robot whose innovative traction-control device gave it a short turning radius on the slippery "lunar" surface and enabled it to push past other robots. The robot won an "innovation in control" award at the New York City regional at the Javits Center and captured the Hartford regional -- defeating archrival Stuyvesant -- to earn a berth among the 350 Atlanta finalists.

A week ago Tuesday, 21 SciBorgs and Maidens, along with eight coaches, mentors and parents, set out for Atlanta at 11 p.m. in a rickety bus that leaked oil. The driver had to pull over to the side of the road and shut off the engine from time to time due to a defective brake warning light, to the consternation of the parent chaperones (endearingly known as roboparents). The students had to rig the robot's batteries to power their laptops and cellphones on the 16-hour journey. When they finally reached the Dome the following afternoon, they found it full of the celebratory energy of a sports event, with referees, cheerleaders, waves, spiked hair, junk food, rock oldies, mascots and breathless announcers ("The Sciborgs are unleashing fury!").

Yet there was something more, and not just the presence of Segways. It was an extraordinary spirit of cooperation. Teams shared parts, tools, knowledge and information. Networks of mentors provided assistance. "When other kids see my son being mentored by engineers," said an inner-city dad behind me, "they start to lose interest in 'American Idol.' They see the prospect of real careers." A member of the northern Israel team told me, in what surely must be an example of extreme cooperation, of his team's collaboration with two Arab teams.

Colleges and industries set up recruiting booths near the Dome, while major sponsors, including NASA, National Instruments, Autodesk and Google, mounted exhibits. The latter organization's influence is the reason for the odd fact that, when you Google the word "first," Mr. Kamen's organization is always atop the nearly four billion hits.

The SciBorgs ended up 14th of 88 teams in their division. The kids were mildly disappointed, and firmly convinced that their robot, given the right alliance, could have defeated this year's winning alliance of robots from California, Illinois and Michigan. It would be a long ride back on the obstinate bus. But disappointments and setbacks are part of engineering, and the event had been thrilling. "You learn logistics," said SciBorgs' captain Christos Sideris, a senior bound for Cornell to become an aerospace engineer, "how to keep things running -- the batteries, the scouting, the equipment. That's incredibly important." He and the other seniors pledged to come back next year as mentors.

Saturday night, after closing ceremonies, more than 10,000 FIRST participants spilled into Atlanta's Centennial Park to unwind after three intense days, treated to food, music, dancing, games and fireworks -- enjoying rather than obsessing about entertainment and sports and sharing their special community of invention.

Mr. Crease is a Bronx Science roboparent and the author of "The Great Equations: Breakthroughs in Science from Pythagoras to Heisenberg" (Norton, 2009).