by Phil Wohl
SEVEN
“It’s not like we can recruit from other towns and states,” Dave said to Steve Brady as they sat on a concrete bench between pick-up games at Veterans Memorial Park.
“You have to start from the beginning and work upwards,” Steve said. “Remember when we played in the Police Boys Club league when we were 10? That’s when it all started. They don’t have junior basketball leagues in this town anymore, unless you go to a parochial school.”
“Well, what would it take to start a few leagues now?” Dave asked.
Steve took over, “Normally, you would rent out space in one of the schools, but I’m the part of a group that is building a new community center that will be open this spring. We could get a few local businesses to sponsor the league, and I could arrange for some gym time.”
“Wow! That sound great Brades. Thanks, man,” Dave said in a heart-felt manner.
Steve put his fist out, “Anything for you, Dave.”
Dave banged Steve’s fist, “Ditto, my brotha’.”
Tony D’s car detailing business had failed and Dave sensed that his friend was searching for a real purpose in life. Dave had been in town for all of two weeks when he walked into Principal Doherty’s office one morning.
“I was thinking it would be wise to hire Tony Dorio to be the junior varsity coach and my assistant coach,” Dave said.
Doherty was ready and barely picked his head up, “We already have a junior varsity coach.”
Dave cut to the chase, “How much will it take to make him go away?”
Doherty picked up his head and saw that Dave wasn’t laughing. “You’re serious. What can he do in the school?”
Dave thought and then replied, “Do you have any security in the building?”
“No.”
Dave cocked his head and stated, “You remember how big he was in high school, right?” The principal nodded. “Well, he’s twice as big and all muscle now. It’s so imposing.” Doherty nodded again.
“How about Head of Security?”
“If you can work out something with Art Miller…” he said biting his lip, “We never had this conversation.”
“So, you’ll give him the job?”
Doherty replied, “I’ll find a way to get it done. We’ve had some PTA meetings about the lack of security in the building, anyway.”
Dave was never the muscle of the operation, but he knew that any mention of compensation in front of Tony would embarrass him. So, he walked upstairs to the science wing and to Room 404. He then knocked on the door.
“Hi, are you Art Miller?”
The nerdy Miller ran the Science Club in addition to coaching the junior varsity basketball team. He never played a sport in his life, other than speed chess, but decided to volunteer for the job to make some extra money. It was a good thing that Miller was a relatively young teacher, because Dave’s experience with Biology teachers was not one that he cared to revisit.
“Yes, I’m Mr. Miller,” he said with all of the tense conviction of a white man.
“Hi, I’m Dave Abrahams,” he said as he extended his right hand. “I’m the new varsity basketball coach.”
“Oh. Nice to meet you,” Miller replied. He had no idea who Dave was, let alone that the previous coach would no longer be doing the job. “I wasn’t sure if they had cancelled the sport.”
Dave thought about dipping his toe in the shallow end, but decided that a running dive into the deep end was completely necessary.
“I’m willing to offer you a thousand dollars cash to step down as j.v. coach,” he said.
Art smiled, thinking that Dave was kidding. “Are you serious?” Dave wasn’t laughing, so Miller continued. “You are serious. Is that legal?”
“I’m not sure of the legality of the payment, but I do know that you could probably care less whether you coach the team again.”
Art looked into Dave’s determined eyes and replied, “You have yourself a deal, Mr…. What was your name again?”
“Abrahams.”
“Mr. Abrahams,” Art said.
Dave looked around and pulled out a white envelope with 10, one hundred dollar bills enclosed.
Miller opened the envelope and flipped through the bills. Dave then removed a piece of paper from his pocket and said to Miller.
“Please sign this paper and just remember that I was never here today,” he said and waited for Miller to get the gist of his innuendo.
“Gladly,” Miller said as he signed his official letter of resignation from coaching the team.
Dave shook hands with Miller and walked toward the door, “See you around, Art.”
The hard part of the process was not bumping Art Miller out of the way it was convincing the prideful Tony Dorio that he wasn’t a charity case.
“Hey Tony, what are you doing?” Dave asked his friend over the phone.
“I’m on my way to my mom’s house for dinner. You wanna’ come? She’s making her famous spaghetti and meatballs.”
Dave started salivating, “I’ll meet you over there.” He loved meatballs and Mrs. D’s meatballs were clearly the greatest food on the entire planet.
Chris James has made an offer that Dave couldn’t refuse, so he cashed in the Mustang convertible for a Jeep Grand Cherokee with a removable hard top. The ride was airy and the world was open for Dave to explore.
The meal at Mrs. Dorio’s was completely satisfying and about as heavy as eating a bowl of cannon balls. Dave was wearing elastic sweatpants, which gave ample room for his stomach sway in the open breeze.
“That woman is the da Vinci of cooking,” Dave said as he took a seat on the aged couch.
“I’m not moving away. In fact, I’m probably going to move back in with her,” Tony stated.
“Have you talked to her about it yet?”
Tony replied, “No, not yet.”
“Why don’t you move in with me?” Dave quickly asked.
“Are you serious?” Tony questioned.
“Yeah, I can’t stand living alone. The silence is killing me.”
Tony nodded his head in approval.
“Ok, we’ll get your stuff when I finish digesting these meatballs. That might take a few days.” Dave then paused briefly before plowing forward. “But that’s not the reason why I came over here.” He took a deep breath. “I was talking to coach the other day.”
Tony’s face turned from gratitude to concern as he stood up and walked out to the back patio. Dave followed him as quickly as his meatball-saturated body would allow. He confronted the mountain of a man, who only felt comfortable doing things for others. Dave went for the jugular, “I feel that our best chance of success is having you by my side.”
“You’re not going to propose, are you?” Tony kidded.
Dave plowed on, “This is the way it’s gonna’ go. You’re going to be my assistant and also be the head coach of the j.v. During the day, you’re going to be head of security of the high school.”
Tony processed the information and then asked, “Are they going to pay me?”
“No, you’re gonna’ work for nothing. Of course, Coach D will take care of you.”
“Because you told him to?” Tony asked.
“No, because it’s the right thing to do,” Dave said in a stern voice. “Besides, there’s no one else that could do that job but you.
“Thanks, bro,” Tony said as he slapped his friend’s hand and gave him a big hug.
“No thank you, TD.”
