Noodles and Pot Pies

On the basketball court I was a totally different person. That rectangle of wood or blacktop or even carpet was a different world, a world that shunned the manners and customs of polite society and rewarded the brash and confident. I talked a lot, we all did, but there was always that unspoken rule, “Don’t talk trash if you can’t back it up.” One summer night in the early 2k’s I got to see first hand why that unspoken rule is so important.

We always showed up as a team when we went to the local park, at least enough so we only had to pick up one or two, two at the most. We could carry two. My roommate Brian played post which was odd because I was at least two inches taller than his 5’11”. But he was tough. He never played ball in high school because wrestling season and basketball season overlapped and he was first string at 189lbs.

It was mid-summer in Grand Rapids and we showed up at around 7 at the park near the house we were staying in at the time. The community was very mixed, very diverse. The housing was lower income and the ethnicity seemed to change by street. Our street was white at one end and Mexican at the other. The street over from ours was largely black and so the pattern continued with a mix of whites, Hispanics and blacks on the streets stretching north and south away from ours for several blocks. Anyway, we got to the park a little bit late and two teams were already running but the wait was not that long. We were standing behind a chain link fence under one of the baskets when this kid gets a fast break straight toward us and the unguarded basket.

Brian yells, “Dunk it!” right as the kid enters the lane and does a handy little lay-up over the front of the rim. Brian continued to jab the kid for his lay-up, “I thought you were gonna dunk it.”

“ I’ll dunk on you,” the kid shot back.

Now the kid had some decent size probably 6’2” or 6’3” and not skinny, but Brian had backed down and bodied much bigger players than the “lay-up kid” since I had started playing with him and he immediately took offense to the kid’s tone.

“We got next,” he yelled pacing down the fence line toward the kid who was now retreating down court to play defense as the opposing team brought up the ball, “and I got him!” his arm was completely outstretched, finger jabbing at the kid, his body taught as if his index finger was iron ore and the “lay-up kid” a colossal, freckled magnet.

Much to Brian’s delight the “lay-up kid’s” team won the game and our team piled out onto the court. I shot for ball and missed. (Hey it was double rims, you know how they are.) We jogged down the court and turned waiting for the other team. The “lay-up kid” looked focused as he brought the ball over mid court and straight at Brian who was waiting for him at the basket. The kid jumped from the right block and reached for the rim, the ball cradled in his outstretched arm. He didn’t quite make it. Brian came flying from his right side and threw him down. Now, I say “threw him down” as opposed to “threw it down” because Brian didn’t just block the ball. No, he put his hand on the ball and threw both it and the “lay-up kid” to the hot asphalt.

“I thought you said you were going to dunk on me punk!” Brian had picked up the ball by then and stood screaming over the “lay-up kid” who was curled in the fetal position under the bucket.

I couldn’t help but grin, but my smile turned to confused brow-wrinkles as the “lay-up kid” lay there and whimpered, “Why’d you do that? Why do you gotta be so mean? Leave me alone. Ow, that hurt.”

We really didn’t know what to say. Everyone on the court just kind of looked at him. Normally, if you get thrown down you get up and get back in the game if you can. Maybe you scream a little at the guy who blocked you to the ground, get in his face, threaten him a little because let’s face it no one wants that to happen to them. All physical danger aside it’s one of the most embarrassing things that can happen to you on the court. We didn’t know whether to laugh or get a broom so we could push him to the side and keep playing. After a few more agonizing seconds he got up, and to his credit, finished out the game, though he was never a factor and we handily beat his team. After that game we never saw the “lay-up kid” again. I guess someone should have spoken to him about that all-important unspoken rule.