On The Line

I got to the Y at 10 o’clock in a pristine, vertically-black-and-white-striped shirt, whistle around my neck. On my feet, I wore those black shoes that nobody knows the name for or the brand or where the hell they got them from.

I had a duffle bag slung over my shoulder with my Jordan’s in their shoebox. For some reason, they called out to me before I left the house but I knew Coach G had enough players and was low on volunteer referees. I didn’t need everyone’s eyes on me today anyways.

I hopped out of my car dribbling a basketball between my legs.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

Above the front door, a hand painted banner was hung, a little too high on the left side.

“Spittleburg YMCA 1st Anual Charity Basketball Game,” I giggled to myself.

Coach G burst through the front doors with his face resembling pizza sauce, “Don’t even say nothin’! That’s the last time I let Rhett make me a goddamn sign! He’s an English major for cryin’ out loud!”

Between the sign and his pigmentation, I couldn’t hold back my laughter. He watched as I keeled over.

He cracked a slight smile and put his hands on his hips, “Sheesh I’m about to have a damn aneurysm and you’re laughin’ straight to my face. What’ve I done to deserve this?”

I wiped a tear from my eye and stretched out my right hand. He reciprocated and we started our handshake.

Slap. Slap. Fist bump. Blow it up. High five. Man-hug.

“I can go get another banner paper for you if you want,” I gave the sign one last look before following Coach inside. The teams were already putting up practice shots in the gym down the hall.

We made a left into his office and he started rifling through papers, “Don’t worry bout it. Samantha and Diego should be on the way back from the store right now. Speaking of-“

“Who’s Diego?”

“Huh?”

“You just said Samantha and Diego. Who’s that?”

He looked up from his papers, “She didn’t tell you?”

I clenched my jaw, “Nah.”

“Well I’m sure she had a good-“

“What’s he doing here?”

“He’s playing, he was my first volunteer.“

“Then I am too.” I stripped out of my stupid, striped shirt and put it on the chair.

“But you told me you would ref the-“

I was already out in the hallway heading to the locker room.

Coach Grevert stopped in the doorway and called out to me, “Just remember this is a fundraisin’ event, Tony!”

Fundraising-my-ass. I couldn’t believe she brought some new guy back from college with her. And to the Spittleburg Y. My home. My sanctuary.

Click. Creak.

In came Samantha with a large roll of white paper in hand. She had her hair tied up in a bun and let her bangs hang just above her eyebrows. Olive green and beige striped sweater, black pants, olive green Toms. She was really into earth tones.

This bozo, who I assumed was Diego, trailed closely behind her wearing a blue Spittleburg Jersey, number 23. What a wanna-be. He paired it with some dusty Nike HyperDunks, looked like he was kicking pine cones in them or something.

We met in the middle of the hall. My eyes darted back and forth during the silence.

Samantha. Diego. Samantha. Diego. Samantha. Dusty Nikes!

Samantha mumbled, “Hey Tony, it’s so good to see you,”

“Ah, you’re Tony,” Diego was unmistakably excited as he reached out a hand to greet me, “I’ve heard a lot about you bud.”

“Oh yeah?” I shook his hand and raised an eyebrow at Samantha. Her eyes shot to the tile floor, “Do tell!”

“Well I heard you’re pretty good at hooping and you’re supposed to be reffing the game today. That’s about it.”

His definition of a lot was underwhelming.

“Well if you consider a four time, All-American-Junior-NBA-High-School-Division MVP pretty good then yeah,” Samantha rolled her eyes, “And I’m actually playing today, so I’ll be able to give you some first hand experience.”

His face lit up, “No way! Well I guess I’ll catch you one\ the court then bro!”

He gave Samantha a kiss on the cheek, shook my hand again, and sprinted into the gym. Her and I locked eyes during the entire sequence.

“So I’m pretty good at basketball huh?”

“So you’ve decided to forego being a ref huh? You know my dad needed volunteers.”

“Don’t try to make me the villain here, who the hell is that meathead?”

“That meathead is my new boyfriend, Tony! What’d you want? A postcard?”

“That would’ve been lovely actually.”

Her stare burned a hole in my skull then her eyes trailed to my chest. I suddenly realized I was shirtless and quickly covered myself with my arms, but not too well. 

“My eyes are up here Sam, sheesh.”

Her perfectly arched eyebrows lifted and she started to blush, “Go get on your jersey or something! The game is gonna start soon!”

“You sound pretty eager to watch your boyfriend get slaughtered.”

“You mean, eager to watch you guys raise money for the Y?”

I slid past her towards the locker room, “Oh right. It’s about the fundraising,” I said in a mocking voice.

“You should consider yourself lucky. My boy is no MVP, but he can dunk.”

I froze at the locker room door and cocked my head, “He can what?”

She pointed down the hall toward the gym where Diego was warming up, “He. Can. Dunk.”

Dribble between the legs. Hard bounce. Fake left. Break right. Elevate. Clang!

Diego threw the ball through the net like it was a meteor crashing towards earth. He let out a demonic screech upon landing. The genuine smile that was originally plastered on his face was wiped away by a grotesque grin. He looked blood-thirsty.

“Great job babe!” Samantha cheered him on. His happy predisposition returned as he waved flimsily. 

She made an about face and blew me a kiss. I snarled and pushed through to the locker room, opened up my bag and pulled out my all white J’s. As clean as the day she got them for me.

Loosen. Slip on. Loop-de-loop and pull. And your shoes are looking good.

Coach walked into the locker room with a red Spittleburg jersey, he looked me up and down. I reached out for the shirt, he quickly drew it close to his body.

“Ya know this is a game right? That’s all. Just a game.”

“Coach,” I reached my hand out, “it’s also a fundraiser. For the kids.”

He sighed heavily and handed it over. I began to put on the jersey, “My point exactly. See I love ya kid, but the only thing that’s ever concerned ya, has been yaself.”

Number one.

“This time is different Coach,” I headed out the locker room, “I promise.”

I sprinted into the gym and grabbed the nearest basketball.

“I promise to whoop Diego’s ass.”

Dribble to left hand. Dribble to right hand. Dribble behind the back. Step back. Corner three-point shot. Swish.

I looked over to the other side of the court where Diego was giving kids high-fives.

BZZT!

By now, guests began flowing in. Both teams converged at their respective benches and we started on strategy. I was surrounded by a bunch of old geezers and snotty nose brats. They all looked at me as their Superman.

“Let’s keep this simple,” I massaged my temple, “I’ve got number twenty-three on their team. Nobody sticks Him except for me, cool?”

They all nodded in agreement. I stuck my hand in the middle, they followed suit, “Win on three. One, two, three!”

A range of voices joined in on an unharmonious shriek. My work was clearly cut out for me.

I headed to the center of the court for the tip-off where Diego was flirting with Samantha, who was dappered down in striped attire and sporting a whistle. 

“…cutest referee I’ve ever seen,” Diego chuckled.

“Oh stop,” she swayed, then she noticed my presence, “Y’all boys ready?”

“Ready,” I grunted.

“Ready my snuggle-lumpkins.” 

I was gonna kill this guy, but my hatred was interrupted by Samantha blowing her whistle.

TWEET! Toss up.

Diego and I both jumped straight up, reaching for the ball like the last box of cookies on the store’s top shelf and I was the hungrier of the two. I snatched the ball out of the sky and before the rest of my team could get to the opponent’s side of the court, I was already on the way to the basket.

Hard dribble. Fake to the right.

Diego’s eyes lit up and he attempted to swipe across my body. What a goof.

Switch behind my back to the left hand. Scoop lay-up. Swish.

The crowd reciprocated with “oohs" and “ahhs”.

“That was a nice move,” he laughed as we trotted to the other side of the court, “thought I had you on -“

“My left,” I stopped and licked my thumb to wipe at my J’s, “yeah, I know.”

“You know I’ve gotta get you back now, right?”

“Oh I’d like to see you-“

Mid snarky comment, Diego dashed out to the top of the three-point line and caught a quick pass from one of his teammates. I sprinted after the slick bastard.

Pump fake. Right-handed dribble. Step-back. Jump shot. SMACK!

I whacked his predictable shot into the third row of spectators with a wide open right hand.

“Get that shit outta here!” 

The entire gym got quiet, I looked out at the splotchy filled seats; mostly occupied by kids, mouths agape. Then at Samantha, she rolled her eyes and turned away from me, tucking her mouth into her shirt to avoid letting out a laugh.

I wish I could’ve said Diego’s skills picked up somewhere within the thirty minute game we played, but this was no fairytale. Every time he came down the court, I’d clamp onto him with some good ol’ Lockdown Defense. Eventually he started just passing the ball away on every possession.

With a minute left in the game, Diego tried to hand over the ball to his nearest comrade; only to have it stolen away again and I hustled back to the other side of the court. Two red jerseys tried to keep up and three blue shirts converged to slow me down.

“Pass it!” One of my bystanding teammates waved for an open shot as I scanned the court.

Fake pass. In and out dribble. Drive to the basket. Double-clutch lay-up. Swish.

After scoring again, my team was up by twenty-three points; I ran over to my teammate for a celebratory high five, but he just rolled his eyes. In fact, it seemed like the entire gym had lost it’s fizz. I would’ve been aggravated as well to pay to see an MVP blow out a couple of scrubs.

Speaking of scrubs, Diego raced down the floor, dribbling the basketball heavily and I shot into my defensive stance. I reached into his space, trying to take the ball again, forcing him to pick up his dribble with both hands. I swiped at the ball viciously. Diego tried to corkscrew his body away from me to avoid another steal.

Twist. CRACK!

While turning, Diego incidentally clocked me in the nose with his elbow. It was like taking a battering ram to the nostrils, the force threw me down to the floor. 

Thud. Tweet!

Samantha ran over to us and yelled, “Foul,” but instead of coming to me, the victim, she went to go check on Diego, “You ok babe? Are you hurt?”

I checked for my teammates, none of them came to help me up, they had already started jogging down the floor. So I stood up on my own. When I looked down to check my J’s, a single drop of blood fell from my nose and landed on the toe of my right sneaker.

Drip. SPLAT!

I felt my whole body get hot and I sprinted down the court where the teams were trying to casually dribble out the last ten seconds of the game. I popped up behind my teammate and took the ball from him. Diego looked surprised, but he didn’t back down. Wrong choice.

I took the ball straight to his chest.

Dribble, dribble, two strides, elevate. Clang!

Diego tried his best to match my jump and block the ball, but I’d stretched it way over my head and threw it down through the hoop with force. My forward momentum sent him hurdling down to earth, off balance and he hit the floor hard. I landed on my feet and stood above him, nostrils flaring and still dripping.

BZZT!

The final buzzer sounded and then the gym was dead silent. I looked around the room, it was as if Diego had copied and pasted his face onto every audience member. They stared, motionless, in horror as if I had just killed a man. Deservedly so.

The only person who was compelled to move was Samantha, she stomped over to me and swung a heavy hand directly onto my cheek.

WHACK!

“The fuck is wrong with you?” 

My pride instantly deflated, I couldn’t muster up the strength to look her in the eyes; I just studied the solitary drop of blood that had already seeped into the fabric of my precious shoes.

“For once, you couldn’t let something be about anything but yourself?”

“It wasn’t about me,” I wiped my nose with my jersey, “I wanted it to be about us.”

“Bullshit, how does you dunking on my boyfriend at children’s charity event have anything to do with us? You think this miraculously negates the fact that we split up? Huh, answer me.”

Silence filled the gym again, people started grabbing their children and heading for the exits.

“Split up? As in you two dated,” Diego staggered to his feet, “You told me you guys were childhood friends.”

Samantha closed her eyes and sighed heavy; she sprinted out of the gym and Diego tried to chase after her. They both dashed past Coach G who was standing in the exit doorway with his arms folded.

“I messed up didn’t I?”

“Royally, but ya played helluva game kid; that’s all that matters to you right? I ain’t even know ya could dunk.”

“Yeah… me neither Coach.”