by John Goode
I no longer had any idea what happiness felt like.
The school year crawled to an end, and the team drifted even further apart as Tommy and the seniors prepared to graduate. It was a few days before the end of the year when Tommy walked up to my locker as I was stashing my books. “Got a second?” he asked. I nodded, though my stomach quietly began to turn itself into knots. We walked into an empty classroom, and he closed the door behind him. “Look, man….” He ran a hand through his hair as he seemed to struggle for the right words. “I don’t know what went down between Cody and you, but I know I had something to do with that, and I’m sorry.”
My face could have been etched out of marble. Blinking felt like too much expression.
“But I don’t want to be the cause of you guys never talking again.” I didn’t say anything, and he gave me a look. “Seriously, man, if you don’t talk to him again, you’ll never forgive yourself.”
I sighed and held up a hand to cut him off. “Fine, Tommy, I promise to talk to him over the summer, okay?”
I saw the look of confusion on Tommy’s face, and he saw the lack of understanding on mine. “Dude, his family is moving. Today is his last day here.”
I’m not sure if I pushed him aside in my rush to get out the door, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I had. His locker stood empty, the door hanging open, and I took off for the front parking circle. By the time I got out front of the school, I saw his mom’s car just starting to pull away. I saw Cody in the backseat look at me through the rear window, and I raised my right hand, waved—I think—and, when the car kept going, lowered my arm.
If I hadn’t been in front of the school and dozens of people, I would have broken down and begun to cry. I have no idea how long I stood there watching the car drive away. I knew there was almost no one around by the time I got to the bus stop, which meant it was sometime after school. I sat and tried not to break down on the bus as I listened to music on my iPod. I didn’t know what felt worse: the fact we had been caught by Tommy, the fact I had blown Cody off for the rest of the year, or the fact I was never going to see him again.
When I got home, I flew into the door with the intention of calling Cody’s house and saying something. My hand hovered over the phone for almost a minute, while both sides of my brain argued about what I could say. I didn’t know if I should apologize or just beg for forgiveness. All I knew was that I felt abjectly miserable and guilty and stupid. I looked up when I passed the living room, and I saw my dad, talking to a stranger.
“Danny?” my dad called out. “Can you come in here, please?”
I felt my mouth go dry as I backtracked a couple of steps and bought myself a second to think as I closed the front door tight. My mind scrambled through every movement I’d ever made. Ever, starting from where I was standing and telescoping back as far as Germany. I searched frantically for something I had done wrong enough that a visit from a strange adult might be warranted. I couldn’t find anything besides Joshua that was that bad. I sat down on the free chair and tried not to feel like I was a six-year-old waiting for a spanking.
My dad turned toward me and looked me directly in the eyes, effectively shutting out the other man. “I want you to answer his question as honestly as possible.” I nodded, though my eyes flicked toward the stranger and then back to my dad. “Are you serious about basketball?” I instantly began to nod again, but he held a hand up to stop me. “I don’t mean for just playing and having fun. I mean for real.” That caused me to pause. “Is this something you possibly want to do for the rest of your life, or is it just a hobby that you’re enjoying for the time being?”
I didn’t understand the full complexity of the question, but I could sense how earnest he was and how important my answer would be.
I didn’t have the proper words to tell anyone how much basketball meant to me, but just as I always had every other time in my life I’d been asked that question, my heart knew all the words.
I had spent most of my life so far sailing somewhere between two coasts, the one who I was and the other who I was supposed to be, and the journey was driving me slowly insane. More times than not, I had spent endless stretches of time stranded on those still waters, slowly drifting, with no clear direction to pick. I was waiting for a great gust of wind to choose for me once and for all and push me in the direction I needed to go. But the older I grew, the more it dawned on me that the decision was going to be up to me. Which way? How to get there? Where is “there”?
The only time I never felt like that was when I was playing basketball.
The very moment my fingers touched that ball, I was both who I am and who I was supposed to be, and there was never a doubt in my mind about that as long as I was on the court.
If someone were to take basketball away from me, I had no idea what I’d end up doing. More accurately, I had no idea who I’d end up becoming. Which pretty much answered the question for me.
“It’s my life,” I answered, not realizing at the time the dual meaning behind my words.
My dad didn’t blink as he scrutinized my face and thought over my words more thoroughly than I could ever remember him doing. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “This is Mr. O’Keefe from Nike, and he has an offer for you.”
“Nike?” I repeated, confused.
He smiled and nodded. “Hi, Danny. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Call me Jim. I’ve seen six of your games this season, and I have to admit I was pretty impressed.”
“You saw us play?” I asked, completely floored that anyone outside of my school and our competitors had seen us play.
He nodded and flipped open a folder he had on his lap and began to skim it. “Decent scoring, impressive rebounds, but what really got my attention was your assists.” He looked up at me and asked, “Do you know what the percentage of points scored this season by your team was directly attributed to an assist from you?” I shook my head. I didn’t know anyone even kept track of stats like that. “I didn’t think so. Suffice it to say the number the Tigers make drops drastically every time you walk off the court.” He put the folder back down on the table and leaned in toward me. “We’d like to invite you to join us this summer at our skills camp.”
I blinked a few times. “Join who?”
He chuckled. “Nike sponsors a skills camp every year for high school players we think have potential to be a lot more, to go further than the average player. It’s by invitation only, and trust me when I say not a lot of freshmen get invited.”
I thought he was going to say more, but he was waiting for me to say something. After a few seconds I asked, “How many?”
He looked confused now. “How many what?”
“How many freshmen were invited this year?”
“Including you?” I nodded. “One.” His smile said it all.
I looked at my dad, whose face was as unreadable as a bar of soap. I looked back to the guy. “How much does it cost?”
“We can afford it,” my dad stated. I looked at him because the tone of his voice was sterner than normal. “If you’re serious about it.”
“I am,” I answered quickly. And all of a sudden, I was babbling. “I really am. I was already worried how I was going to stay in shape this summer. I don’t know anyone who plays so I was just going to try to find pickup games.” His expression didn’t waver. “Please, Dad! I want to do this.” Nothing. “I need to do this.” More nothing.
“We do need to know quickly,” the man said, gathering up his stuff. “The spots are extremely limited.”
My eyes widened as I silently begged my dad.
My dad stood with the man. “He’s in.”
I tried not to jump up and cheer as they shook hands. “Excellent!” Mr. O’Keefe said as he dug in his briefcase and handed my dad a large envelope. “Here is the admission packet. Send it in by the end of the week, and you’ll receive a registration packet in the mail.” The man looked at me and then looked up higher to meet my gaze. “You
have a gift, Danny.” He held out his hand. “We look forward to helping it flourish.”
I probably almost squeezed his hand off as I pumped his arm up and down and gushed, “Thank you so much, Mr. O’Keefe! This is a dream come true! I won’t let you guys down!”
He laughed as he extracted his hand and rubbed the blood back into his white fingers. “Trust me, son, just show up and play as well as I saw you this season, and you won’t let anyone down.” He tried to get around me, but I didn’t register it. I was much too busy gushing and babbling mentally.
“Danny,” my dad said in a low voice, “let the man out. You’re blocking the door.” I scrambled out of the way, and they both smiled at me. “Thank you, sir.” I followed them the few steps to the front door because I didn’t have a clue what else to do.
The man shook his head as my dad opened the door. “No, Danny. Thank you.”
I had never been so damn happy in my entire life. Dad stepped out of the house to have a few words with Mr. O’Keefe, while I stood in the entry, smiling and then really smiling. When Dad came back inside, he slipped by me and headed to the kitchen, no doubt wanting to be safe when everything that had just happened sank in.
I finally exploded in exhilaration, letting off several whoops of absolute joy as I danced around the living room like a maniac. My dad sat at the kitchen table thumbing through the papers, no doubt learning all he could about it before he put a pen to paper. I stopped midleap and looked over at him. “Where is it?”
“Florida,” he answered, not looking up from his reading.
“I’m going to Florida to learn basketball?” I asked myself out loud, completely blown away by just the thought.
“Looks that way,” he said, turning one paper over and examining the fine print on it in detail.
I instantly went back to dancing. “I’m going to Florida! I’m going to Florida!”
This went on for some time. Possibly two days.
Over an hour later, I had settled down and was sitting across from my dad, looking at the paperwork as well, as we waited for the pizza to arrive. I was scanning over the pictures of the guys who were pictured playing the game in years past when my dad put the papers down and looked over at me. I glanced back over the paper I was browsing and waited for him to say we needed to talk. “So we need to talk.”
I tried not to smile as I put the paper down.
“I am not accusing you of anything, and I don’t want you to think you’re in trouble.” And that feeling of sitting in the seat of shame returned. “But this is a big thing.” I nodded, knowing he was nowhere near the point he wanted to make. “Places like this are where you start making a name for yourself; the people who are in charge and who’ll be teaching you are professionals in basketball.” Another nod, because we were getting closer but not quite there. “That means when you go there, you’re going to have to be on your best behavior.” Slower nod. “That also includes anything someone else might find offensive or inappropriate.” I felt a chill move through me as it began to dawn on me what he was talking about. “I’m not saying whatever happened with this boy on the team was like it was with Joshua, but nonetheless, there was something odd about it.” I strained to hear him over the pounding of my heart as it struggled to burst free from my chest. “That’s all well and good, but if something like that was to happen at a place like that and it was to get out….”
“I get it,” I said, my voice sounding to me as if it were from very far away. “It won’t happen again, sir.” The “sir” was a throwback to when I was far younger and still practiced the rule that politeness trumped everything.
“I’m not implying anything, Danny. I’m just…. If that boy ended up saying something….”
The fact Cody had left hit me again, and the elation of the past few hours disappeared completely. “He’s gone,” I mumbled just as our doorbell rang. “He moved away.”
My dad got up, pulling his wallet out. “Well, it’s for the best, right?”
I didn’t answer. Instead I stood up and stumbled off to my room like a zombie while my dad paid for the pizza. I heard the front door close, and he called my name. I fell down on my bed face-first, wanting more than I ever had in my entire life for the world to swallow me up. He knocked on my door and cracked it open. “The pizza is here.”
“I’m not hungry,” I said, my voice muffled in my pillow.
He was silent for a long time. I wasn’t sure if he was still there or not and at that moment I didn’t care. I had honestly thought we’d moved past this point in our life where he assumed I was going to grope random strangers while they slept. I really never imagined us ever coming back to this impasse in our relationship, but here we were. Him judging me and me feeling like absolute shit about it.
I knew I was crying again but I refused to let anyone else see my tears. It has been one of the few promises I’ve made to myself I’ve kept.
The next few days passed in a blur. My sadness seemed to bottom out and became a constant state of background misery that began to morph into numbness. The school year ended not with a bang but with a whimper. I told no one about my invitation to the camp, partly because it would have sounded like bragging but more because I didn’t have anyone to tell the news to anymore. Tommy invited me to his graduation party, but I refused, not sure what I’d do at a party full of guys who were three years older than me and heading off to college.
I even felt guilty for being so excited when the registration came in the mail and the dance of joy began anew, this time in the kitchen.
However, from that moment on I didn’t have time to be sad. From the second I filled out the top line of the first form to the moment I stepped off the plane in Florida, it was as if only a few hours had passed instead of a week and a half. My dad took me to get new clothes, since I had already outgrown the ones I started school with. I bought new sneakers, an actual gym bag since I usually carried my stuff in a backpack, and to my surprise a brand-new electric razor of my own. My dad seemed to get a little weird about this, saying as the lady ran his credit card, “I still remember buying diapers for you.”
I was two inches taller than him by then. Patting him on the shoulder, I said, in as reassuring a voice as I could, “And one day I’ll be buying them for you.”
He elbowed me in the gut when I burst out laughing.
We sat at the airport terminal waiting for my plane to board, neither one of us knowing what to say. “So you have money, right?” Dad asked, breaking the silence. I nodded. “And you brought your cell charger?” Another nod. “Remember, no matter how much someone may rag you on the court, do not lose your temper with—”
“Dad,” I said, cutting him off. “I’ll be okay, I promise.”
He shook his head when he realized he was rambling. “This is the first time we’ve ever been apart. Give me a break, Danny.”
I saw the worry in his expression and realized in shock that I wasn’t worried at all.
I reached over and hugged him tight. “I’ll be fine, Dad.” He hugged me back, and I could sense he didn’t want to stop. Thankfully they called my flight, and we had to let go.
I didn’t feel worried until I turned around at the gate and waved good-bye to him. The reality hit me then. Dad wasn’t going to be five minutes away in case something went wrong. This was going to be the first time I had ever flown without an adult. I knew rationally that Dad was just thirty-two, but for some reason he looked older to me. Out of nowhere, I felt the little kid in me completely freak. I dropped my bag and raced over to him. This time I was the one who didn’t want to let go until he said quietly to me, “I’m proud of you, Danny. You’re going to be fine.”
I really had believed I was going to get out of the state without crying.
I sat on the plane and looked out the window and imagined I could see my dad looking out of the terminal at me, and it made me feel better. By the time we took off, I was okay again. This was an opportunity of a lifetime, and I wasn’t going to l
et being all weepy because I was a daddy’s boy screw it up.
I fell asleep as I usually did during a flight and woke up in another stage of my life.
It was the first time I was met at the gate by a guy holding up a card with my name on it. I felt instantly more important. The man led me to a small pizza place in the middle of the airport, where he told me I’d be waiting for the rest of the people showing up today to arrive. There were already four other giant people sitting at a table; one was watching the TV as the other three fiddled with their cell phones. “We have forty-five minutes before our last person arrives. Try not to wander off,” the man informed me just before he walked off.
I was unsure if I should go and sit with the other guys or order pizza first, but, as it did most of the time, food won out. I ordered two slices of pizza, each one as big as my head, and a bottle of water before I joined the other guys at the table. Four pairs of eyes looked over at me, three guys went back to their phones, and the fourth smiled and held out his hand. “You have to be one of us,” he stated as I put my food down.
I smiled back instantly. I’d never been one of anyone before.
“Depends,” I said, shaking back. “Is this the table for ridiculously good-looking guys?” I tried my best Zoolander impression and earned a half glare from the cell phone guys plus a barking laugh from the nice one.
“Classic movie!” he said, slapping his leg.
“Right?” I said, sitting down. “I’m Danny.”
He nodded and began pointing at the other guys. “That’s John, Levon, Ricky, and I’m Nathan.”
“What high school you guys go to?” I asked before taking a bite.
You could hear a record scratching somewhere in the background.
After a few seconds of silence, Nate asked, “You’re in high school?”
I nodded around the bite.
“What year?” Levon called over, putting his cell phone down for the first time.
“Um, just finished freshman year,” I replied, now completely self-aware, since the entire crew of guys was looking at me.
