Keep Jumping / No Hating

by Stephanie Perry Moore

  One day she brought me a card that read, “Thanks for believing in me.” Another time she brought me a smoothie and said it was a thank you because I made her have energy, and she wanted to pour some back into me. She also smiled and thanked me every time I assisted her with a flip. I liked everything about her: her walk, her talk, her smile, and her conversation. Her very being got me excited.

  I knew I needed to ask her out. When she had tumbling success, it was the perfect time to want to take her some place to celebrate. Thankfully, she said yes.

  “What’s up, little brother?” Anthony asked, coming into my room and turning on the lights.

  “I’m tryna get some sleep, man,” I replied.

  “Please. I hear you in here wrestling. That crazy girl still tripping?”

  “I don’t even know how to describe her,” I said to my brother as I sat up.

  It was good that he went to Georgia Tech, because on the weekends he’d come home and hang. He was now a sophomore in college, but we talked way more now than we ever did when we both went to Lockwood High.

  Frowning to show he hated I still had stalker drama, he said, “What is she doing?”

  “Every day last week I got some kinda love note or something in my locker.”

  “She has your combination?”

  “Nah, boy,” I said, letting him know I wasn’t loony too. “She stuck the note through the little slats. She is wild.”

  “So have you taken my advice? Have you showed her you moved on?”

  Shrugging I said, “I think she gets it.”

  “What you mean?”

  “There’s this girl named Hallie.”

  “The cheerleader you were talking about. Okay,” my brother said, smiling.

  “I took her out today,” I said.

  “Where’d you take her, big spender?”

  “You know Dad ain’t breaking me off any money, so we went to McDonald’s.”

  “Okay, I’m sure she loved that,” Anthony teased.

  “Yeah, whatever, I think we had a real good time. We did argue though.”

  “Oh, share it,” my brother said.

  “She called me a punk.”

  My brother looked confused. I reached out and gave him dap. We were on the same page.

  “As much swag as I got? Exactly,” I said.

  “No, I like this girl, she’s not tryna inflate that brain of yours,” my brother said, swatting me with his jacket. “Spill it, Amir, why’d she call you a punk, man?”

  Still amazed at how different my brother had become, I asked, “How’d you get so cool all of a sudden?”

  “Don’t avoid the question. Why’d she call you a punk?”

  “She wants me to play football.”

  “You gave that up a long time ago.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have,” I answered. There, I said it. I was wrestling with the idea of playing.

  My brother taunted, “What? You can’t play.”

  “Forget it,” I said, noticing my brother thought the whole talk of me playing football was a joke.

  “Why you getting upset?”

  “Because you and Dad kill me, man. It’s like if I’m not into science or engineering then my dreams and goals don’t matter.”

  “Hey, I’m just saying you gave up football. I didn’t know it was a dream or goal of yours. I don’t want you to be holding on to something that you’re too late for. I mean, the season has already started anyway. You’re a junior; your high school days are almost over. What am I not getting here?”

  “Dude, in PE class my teacher is Coach Strong, the football coach. He saw me playing in some games during class . . .”

  “Wait, the same skills you had way back in little league football, you can still do?” Anthony said in an impressed tone.

  “Yeah, man, I was catching balls left and right. I really like defense. My speed is there. Those tall receivers think they got me, but I leap up and snatch the ball from them. I don’t know.”

  “And?” Anthony asked.

  “And he asked me to play for the team.”

  Needing clarity my brother asked, “Even though the season has started?”

  “Yeah, we’re real messed up in the secondary right now. We got a shot at the state title, but if he doesn’t fix the problem with the DBs, he’s gonna get burned game after game. That’s why Hallie and I had it out; I told him no.”

  “But clearly I see you wanted to say yes,” Anthony said, getting right to it.

  “She got mad at me when I told her I did not want to play, and when she stormed off, it was so cute. I followed her, and the next thing I know we were kissing.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Well, then she got all upset. She can’t kiss,” I said, trying not to laugh as I remembered the event.

  “Oh snap,” my brother laughed.

  “Right. Then she started crying on me, and I thought oh no, not another Lexus.”

  “She ain’t crazy too, is she?” Anthony asked.

  “Nah, it was deeper than that. I thought I had problems with Dad, but she’s got worse problems at home. And don’t go telling Dad or nothing either,” I said, remembering my brother used to be my dad’s DVR.

  “Tell him what?”

  “What I’m about to say—that I like this girl whose mom is on drugs.”

  Anthony shook his head. “Oh, Amir, I don’t know if you wanna get messed up with that.”

  “She can’t help what her mom is. The lady doesn’t even live there. Her dad forbids her to see her mom anyway. It’s a mess.”

  “Dang, I feel bad for her.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Then I think when we got back to the gym, Lexus saw we were connecting.”

  “Well, that’s good, right? You can get the crazy girl off your back. Now all you gotta do is handle a highly emotional one. You ready?”

  “I can’t explain it, but yeah.”

  “Well, forget the girls for a sec and let me clear up something. If you wanna play football, I think you need to go for it.”

  “But Dad . . .”

  “But Dad what?” Anthony asked. “Dad has to live his own life. He can’t live yours. You shouldn’t have to sneak around to do something you think he doesn’t want you to do. You need to talk to him.”

  I gave my brother a look. “Actions speak louder than words. Do you really think he loves me?”

  My brother said, “Yes, he loves you, Amir, and if being out there on the football field is what you want to do, talk to him about it. I trust that he’s going to say yes. My brother, a baller . . . I can see that because you were bad back in the day. Go for it.”

  When he turned off my light and walked out of my room, I was happy I had a big brother who cared enough to listen to what was going on in my world. His advice was sound. As much as I wanted to think that I did not care about football, I knew it was in my blood. At least I deserved to give myself the chance to see if the skills I believed were still in me were truly there. Coach told me to think it over, so why not give it a try?

  “Amir Knight, what brings you to my office?” Coach Strong said in a voice I could not make out as either happy or indifferent.

  “I came to see about playing ball for you, Coach.”

  As he took his arm and balled fist and pulled it down in the air, Coach Strong yelled, “Yes!”

  His excitement was so loud that the commotion going on in the locker room ceased. I felt all eyes looking at me. He had a comfortable-looking couch in his office with two blankets. I did not know whether to curl under those and hide or face the challenge.

  “I watched you in PE. Your conditioning is better than some of my players. My nephew Brenton is the captain of defense. I’m going to pair you up with him. All you have to do is pick up the playbook and learn our three-four scheme,” he said, showing me the book. “Also, there’s some paperwork that you will have to have your folks fill out. But for now, let’s go practice. Do you have cleats, pads, anything?” Coach asked me.<
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  I shook my head. He invited me to this party. He was going to have to make sure I had all that I needed to participate. The gift I brought was my talent. I could only hope it would not fail me.

  “All right, let me get with the equipment manager and introduce you to our defensive coordinator. Coach Grey, will you step into my office?” Coach Strong called out. I could feel all eyes on me.

  I had thick skin, so comments here and there did not mean anything to me. I did not come out here to make friends. I came out here to play. An older Caucasian gentlemen came into Coach Strong’s office, touched my shoulders, and pushed them back. He sized me up from head to toe and gave Coach Strong a thumbs-up.

  “I saw you playing in class a couple days ago,” Coach Grey said with a smile.

  “You did?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Coach called me out of history to watch you. We’ve been nervous though. We did not think you’d come out. We’ll really see if you got some guts. You were playing with babies in PE class. On my defensive team, you’re playing with men. Some teams we go up against are barbarians. However, just because you showed up, I think you might be able to cut it.”

  “I appreciate that, Coach. I will work hard for you,” I said, knowing I’d give my all.

  “Yeah, and you got a knack for the ball,” Coach Grey said.

  In every drill they did, the team was lacking in my opinion. I knew they had gone through summer workouts, camp, a scrimmage, and one game. I had what was called fresh legs because I had not been grinding with them day in and day out. However, to me they had no heart.

  “Why you gotta come out here and make us look bad?” a tall defensive end said. He stood almost six feet four inches and weighed around two forty.

  “Don’t let Leo get to you,” Brenton from PE class said.

  I nodded. “I’m just out here doing my thing. Not trying to cause problems.”

  I wanted to tell that Leo dude that he needed to step it up if he had a problem with what I was doing. Again, I came to play. I was rusty and needed to give one hundred percent if I was going to do this.

  “That’s what we need, some new blood out here to push us all. I’m glad you’re joining the team,” Brenton said.

  “I’m just trying it out today.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re trying it out,” Brenton said. He stretched out his hand for me to give him dap.

  “Why don’t y’all just go ahead and kiss,” Wax, the snobby senior who thought he was all that, teased.

  I shook Brenton’s hand, ignoring the jab. When we lined up to run a few plays, our quarterback threw a deep pass for Wax to catch. I stepped in front of him. I shut him up with my actions.

  And Brenton teased back, “Kiss the ball good-bye.”

  I took the pigskin to the end zone for a TD. I was not nearly as big as Leo, but I didn’t mind putting hits on running backs and quarterbacks either. Basically, wherever the ball was, that’s where I was trying to be. There were a few long passes thrown, and that’s when I was able to show my speed. I went one on one against our best receiver, Landon King. He was also a junior. He hung out with Blake and Leo. He was a trash-talker, but I hushed him up too before he could even say a negative word to me.

  Actually, he came up to me and said, “Dang, man, you gonna make the team. You ain’t gotta show folks up.”

  Standing chest to chest, I said, “I’m just running the routes, catching the balls. We don’t have any problems, do we?”

  “If you keep making me look bad, we gonna have tons of problems. Dang,” Landon said.

  “I’m out here to win.”

  “You just got out here.” Landon stepped in my face.

  I wasn’t backing down. “So?”

  “All right, all right, boys, pull it apart. Back it up,” Coach Strong said. “Look, I guess I should introduce you guys to Amir Knight. He was just tryna get his feet acclimated to the game, but as you guys can see, he has what I already knew: the ’it’ factor to be on this field with the Lions. We are a good team, but we can be great if we get another player in the secondary.”

  “So what, Coach? This chump is just gonna come in and take my job like that?” Colby, a defensive back who had been getting beaten all year, cried out.

  Coach Strong nodded. Then he walked back over to the sidelines. Colby held out his hands to the team, wanting people to have his back.

  Leo said, “Uh, yeah, I thought I was gonna have to lose some weight and run like a safety the way you been getting killed. We can put the cheerleaders in, and they’d do a better job than you.”

  “Whatever, man, I was balling. We’re winning!” Colby cried out.

  I wasn’t here to upset anybody. I wasn’t here to take anyone’s job. I wasn’t trying to outshine anybody either. I just wanted to see if I could still do what I did back in middle school. I did want to play, and if Coach would have me, I was willing to put up with the bull to be under the lights on Friday nights.

  After practice was over, the quarterback, Blake Strong, said, “Man, I’ve gotta give it to you, you’ve got skills. I hope you join the team.”

  “Why you gotta try to kiss up to him?” Landon asked, walking into the field house beside us.

  “Why you gotta be all in my conversation?” Blake said back to his boy.

  “I’m just saying, he ain’t all that. Dang! He took a couple balls from me. He ain’t gonna be doing that on Friday nights against real competition. All of us know we got weak legs from balling twenty-four-seven, and he ain’t got nothing.” Then Landon turns to me. “What you do? Don’t you work at some girls’ gym?” he asked.

  Guys walking around us looked at me like I had the plague. Leo laughed in the background. I looked over at him, daring him to say something.

  “Help me tumble,” Leo joked, taking me up on my stare.

  Leo went over to Landon, and the two of them tried to do a mock cheer. The rest of the team gathered around and guys laughed hard. I gave a smirk and walked on to the locker room.

  Brenton jogged up to me and said, “You straight with all that, right? It’s just trash talking. That’s what we do.”

  “Man, I already told you, I got tough skin.”

  “Amir Knight, come into my office,” Coach Strong said.

  “Yes, Coach?”

  “So what you gonna do? What do you think? This is my team and I want you a part of it. You’re not gonna to be popular,” Coach Strong said, alluding to the coarse joking.

  “I have a brother at home, sir. I’m not here to make friends, Coach,” I replied.

  “Well, that’s what I wanted to let you know. I don’t have room on my team for anyone to be on an island. We are one—no showboaters out here. I’m not asking you to take any of these guys by the hand and make them feel good about this transition, particularly Colby whose job I do want you to take, but you must try to get to know the guys to be on my team. You need to blend in. It’ll take time, but you should have the heart to try.”

  “I’m the new kid. They’re on the team, sir,” I said, feeling like they needed to be cool to me.

  “If you want to play football, there are eleven men from one team on the field at all times, not one. Here are the forms I need for you to have your parents fill out. If you’re up for that, I’ll see you tomorrow with everything signed. I got nothing else to say.”

  Coach walked out of the door and once again left me to think. He was good at that, but this time I did not know the answer. I wanted to play football, not play in the sandbox with a bunch of whiners; maybe this was not for me.

  In my bedroom with all those papers in my hand, I just stared at them. I had a lot of guts being out there on the field doing my thing, but when it came to standing on my feet, going to my parents, and telling them what I wanted to do and what I needed them to sign, I was a wimp. A part of me felt like this was what I wanted; my brother even thought I should try. So maybe I was just overreacting, over thinking, and over dramatizing the situation.

  However
, a more rational side of me knew I was right on because my dad was going to have a cow, milk it, and then cut it up for meat. Basically, I knew he would not be happy with my choice, and he would not have any problem letting me know it. Then I thought, why not talk to my mom and let her know what was in my heart? I was not a sissy, but I was a mama’s boy. If I buttered her up, she’d get my dad to come around.

  The problem with all of this was not only did my dad think football was a waste of time, but if I joined the team, I would have to quit my job. Practice was every day after school, and sometimes on the weekends, so I would have no time to go to Cheertowne, and my dad refused to support me financially besides putting food in my mouth and allowing me to have a place to stay. He gave me no gas money, no money for upkeep on my car, and now that I knew I wanted to do more with Hallie, I was gonna need some funds to take her out. It was the craziest thing in the world that my dad didn’t break me off a little somethin’ somethin’. Dr. Knight was a surgeon for goodness’ sake. We lived in one of the best neighborhoods in Atlanta. Though my car was new, if I had no gas, I couldn’t drive it. So I looked at myself in the mirror, thought long and hard about what I really desired deep inside, and asked myself what was I willing to fight for? What was I willing to do without?

  Coming to the conclusion that I could not live without football, I picked up the papers and marched into the kitchen. I stood by my mom and put my hands around her waist. I tickled her a little bit and she smiled.

  Purring like a cat, she said, “My Amir . . .” Knowing I did this move when I was happy since I was little, she said, “Somebody must be in a good mood, playing with his mom like this. I’ve been so worried about you, son, because I just want you to be happy.”

  She kissed my cheek. This was right up my alley. I could not have picked better words to come out of her mouth than the ones she actually spoke. She said it: she wanted me to be happy. So I went there. I turned off the water so she’d be able focus on what I had to say.

  I took her hands and said, “Mom, thank you for thinking about me, praying for me, and just being there.”