Rules For Becoming A Legend Part 17

By the time Doc McMahan found his way up to the balcony, even the Seagulls fans in the gym had caught on that Jimmys famous father was in attendance. They started a new chant. It shook Todds already reeling mind.

"Dad-dys bet-ter!"

"Dad-dys bet-ter!"

"Dad-dys bet-ter!"

Todds face flushed. What in the h.e.l.l is a freshman kid supposed to do with that?

Shooter played rough and was called for a few fouls, sure, but it was a better-than-even trade so long as he was able to carve out a spot in Jimmys head. And he did. Shooter kept whispering aloud Jimmys worst doubts. Used all the ammo hed gathered from trolling the Oregonlive.com high school basketball chat rooms. Jimmys arms felt watery. Eyesight blurry. Coach Kelly yelled louder from the bench and the refs called fewer fouls. The game became rougher. Something was wrong with Jimmys shot. It wasnt going in. He couldnt understand it. This was the thing hed always known how to do. Ever since kindergarten. Simple, easy, him. But. Not anymore. There was a hitch to it suddenly, too much thought in the mix.

Soon Shooter didnt even have to knock Jimmy around, all he had to do was taunt and our kid would miss.

"Your baby bros bigger than you."

Brick.

"Your Grandpa sleeps on the streets."

Whiff.

"Your daddy was better."

Air ball.

Jimmy clanked wide-open looks. Botched easy floaters and even missed a breakaway lay-in when the nearest Seagull was half the court away. His mouth was dry, but at time-outs, he couldnt swallow water.

He noticed Dex and Pedro in the stands. Laughing, high as kites, theyd smoked weed for the first time just before the game. Jimmy knew because Ray Atto had caught them behind the Brick House on his way to the locker room. Came in and told Jimmy how his baby bro liked to "puff-puff-pa.s.s that s.h.i.+t." During one time-out, Jimmy saw Dex and Pedro giggling with a couple of freshman girls and all he wanted was to be where they were, be who they were. But no. f.u.c.k them. They were a part of the problem too. Pedro wasnt any kind of friend-always drafting off him. And Dex, kid didnt work hard to be good like Jimmy did, just was that way. He wasnt a baller, this wasnt his life, he didnt know how it felt. And now, look at them, just laughing their a.s.ses off. Not even seeing this. One look from his bro, that was all he needed. But no, Dex and Pedro were leaving. Off to concessions again for something else to ease the munchies. Stoners.

"Jimmy, come on now, pull it together," Coach Kelly shouted above the chant, above the noise of the crowd.

Jimmy snapped out of it. "OK?"

"OK!"

The whistle blew. Time-out over. Jimmy went back on the court to face Shooter. Legs trembling.

McMahan found his way up to the balcony. Sat down like it was just a coincidence, like Wow, I just showed up and DID NOT give your wife a ride here.

"Sure nice to meet you, Todd," Doc said as he leaned across Genny Mori. "I was going to have to watch the game by my lonesome."

Todd reached out and shook the mans hand. Small and damp. How the h.e.l.l could people trust this guy to do surgeries? He used words like "lonesome." "Got a kid playing?"

"Nope, just a fan of Jimmys."

"So you just like watching adolescent boys sweat?"

The Doc giggled, uncomfortable. "Funny. Hey, I got a little something extra in my soda if you care to . . ." He held out his paper cup with the blue PepsiCo logo on its side. Todd had probably delivered that cup, one in a box of hundreds, to the high school. A single delivery in a long line of other deliveries. A life of deliveries. Work heavy on the back, light in the pockets. And now here was this guy-caramel leather shoes so soft they were in danger of melting onto the floor, chunky watch catching light, silky, well-fitting clothes-here in this hot, dust-mote gym.

"He doesnt drink anymore," Genny Mori offered.

Todd tilted his head and took in Berg out the corner of his eye. Everyone thinks they know my problems. And while it was true, hed stopped drinking since that day wallowing in the sand for Suzie so long before, it wasnt as official as his wife was making it sound. There was room to wiggle. The poke had come with the word "anymore." How it suggested a problem to this complete stranger. "Ill take some just the same," he said.

"What?"

"Sure, why the h.e.l.l not, Genny? Im here to see my boy play some ball."

"Why the h.e.l.l not!" The Doc laughed loud and fake. A bark, really. "Why the h.e.l.l not! I love this guy."

Todd wanted to punch him. He took the cup and downed it in three looping swallows. Same fire as always but an almost immediate hit to the senses, his tolerance shot. How wonderful. He noticed Genny cut eyes at the Doc.

"A real pro!" the Doc said sarcastically and took out his flask and a bottle of Pepsi.

Todd mixed a new drink, heavy on the whiskey. Then, before he handed the flask back, he took another big swallow. "For a kick start," he said.

Alcohol warmed him like he remembered. Like how shower water pressed heat behind your eyes. He drank and tried not to talk. He knew eventually the whiskey would make his legs light. He looked forward to that. And they drank, all of them silent, and watched Shooter Ackley and the Seaside Seagulls take basketball away from his son.

Back on the court doubt spread to every part of Jimmys game. His pa.s.sing became sloppy and then his defense was all shot up. Our kid was unraveling in front of a Brick House packed to the gills with fans expecting another Todd "Freight Train" Kirkus. Instead they were getting a choke artist.

Coach Kelly put in Ray Atto, their once-star, to play alongside Jimmy. He drew a foul on his first possession. Made both free throws. The Fishermen-faithful applauded.

Joe Looney said, "Thats how we do it, Ray, thats how we do it," but he was looking at Jimmy when he said it.

On Rays way back up the court he yapped, "Quit being a p.u.s.s.y," so close to Jimmys ear he felt the spit land.

Then, on the next Fishermen inbounds, Jimmy got the ball. He dribbled it up the court with Shooter in front of him the whole way, smiling cruelly. Sound piled on. The crowd overpowering. n.o.body stopping it when it should have been stopped. Jimmy could weep. Couldnt anyone see what was happening? His lungs couldnt take in enough air. Too much, all of it. He went to make a pa.s.s and Shooter jabbed, feinting a steal. Jimmy overcorrected and threw the ball out of bounds.

"A little off . . ." Shooter said.

Joe Looney raised his hands like, What the h.e.l.l?

"s.h.i.+t," Ray yelled. "f.u.c.king s.h.i.+t, Jimmy."

The fans groaned. Shooters words pinging all around inside Jimmy, springing leaks. Boos rained from the bleachers. He was soaked. There was a pressure on his nostrils, he was crying. Face all crumpled up, breaths stuttering. He ran and picked up the ball from under the hoop.

"Is he crying?" he heard someone ask.

"No," Jimmy shouted, pulled up the neckline of his jersey and wiped his face, pretending it was sweat.

"Its OK, Jimmy, well get it back," Coach Kelly shouted. "Get in there and get it back." Jimmy nodded and threw the ball to the ref. Then, instead of going back into the game like Coach Kelly was screaming for-everyone was screaming, noise so big-Jimmy left. Face red, nose snotty, it was abundantly clear he was crying now. He ran into the locker room and didnt come back.

G.o.d, Todd thought as he watched his boy run off, its all too much, isnt it? He had to do something, but he couldnt focus, not with the Doc, his wife, James Berg, and the whiskey besides. He needed to go see about Jimmy, but was scared of leaving Genny Mori alone with this man.

"Jimmy left?"

"That Shooters tough, Gen," the Doc said. "Id need a break too."

Gen? Since when did anyone call her Gen? "What the h.e.l.l you know about basketball?" Todd shouted over the bedlam erupting in the stands as the game continued.

"I played for Country Christian when I was in high school," Doc said. He tried to sound nonchalant about it, but it was hard in the loud gym. The Doc yelled to be heard, and the pride came out in higher decibels. "Nothing much. Got All-League my senior season."

What an insignificant fact in this moment. Then Todd remembered b.u.mping McMahans team from the state tournament. Must have been first round. The Doc a quick, little guard with a deadly shot. The Country Christian Cougars had all these polite fans who forgot their manners as the game went on. Todd only played the first quarter of that game because after that, the Fishermen were up big. Hed gotten some flack in the papers for taking off his shoes as he sat on the bench, kicked back and relaxed. James Berg ended the night with 33 points. They joked it was his team now.

"Oh, s.h.i.+t," Todd said. He took another drink. Where had Jimmy gone? The paper cup of whiskey and Pepsi was flimsy, waterlogged. "I remember you guys. Knocked you out the tournament. Country Christian Cougars, roar, roar, how come you didnt like, how come you didnt get Jesus to help you win that game?" He downed the rest and refilled the cup from McMahans flask.

A pause. A small beat McMahan let drop so Todd would know it wasnt a joke to him. "You were too good," he said sarcastically, face red.

Todd hated the weakness he saw in this little guy. The sniveling. The giving up before you try. You know what happens when you start to feel that way? You turn to cheating. You tell on him when hes out drinking and he just needs to think. You go behind his back to get playing time. You were supposed to be my best friend! Just cause you were too weak to hang with me, you cheat.

"Todd," Genny Mori said sternly. She saw the anger rising in her husband and this sobered her.

"What?"

But when McMahan went to take the cup from him, Todd slid his hand down its slippery side and tipped the bottom of it so it spilled on the little mans lap.

"Jesus," McMahan said.

"Now were talking!" Todd said.

McMahan stood up and took half a step at Todd. The cup skittered and rolled. "I-"

Todd was ready; a slight flex in his huge frame was all it took to scare the Doc off. Beneath the flab there was still some power.

"I-these-just got these pants." He rushed off to find the bathroom.

"Todd," Genny Mori said again. She got up to go after the Doc, but at the top of the steps, she turned back.

"How come you did that?" she asked, one hand shaking as it pointed at him.

Todd heard her as How did you know? So he said, "An accident."

Which she took as Go f.u.c.k yourself. So she said, "Youre the accident. This whole things an accident."

And he knew she meant Right back at you.

There it was. A fissure opened between them, between their history as man and wife and their future as separate ent.i.ties. Everything just under the surface, everything almost accused and almost admitted to. One more step and theyd tip into the fall there was no comeback from. Todd waited for her to say more; surprised it would happen like this, but not so surprised it was happening.

But, whats this, they both balked when they could have pushed the other in first with a "Youre cheating on me" or an "I dont love you anymore." There would be no fall tonight. Genny stood before him a beat longer and then turned away. Todd would always remember how only one hand had shook, the other calm.

And then Todd picked up the paper cup and crushed it and threw it at her back because hed just forced them to go off and be alone when that was the last thing he wanted.

In the bleachers, realizing that Jimmy wasnt coming back, the game in hand, the Seagulls started a new chant, "Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, hey, hey, hey, GOODBYE."

Todd turned on James Berg, who was now standing. In two steps he was nose to nose with his old friend. "You still love this?" he asked.

"No, Todd, I-"

"You better f.u.c.king love this."

Jamess face crumpled a little. He bit a knuckle. "Go f.u.c.k yourself."

Todd reared back, took aim, and then let into a mighty swing. James easily avoided it, just stepped back. Todd spit, he had him cornered, and was about to charge. There was liquid in his head, slos.h.i.+ng around, hitting the levers and b.u.t.tons of his rage. Then he paused. Something was going to break tonight, but it wouldnt be James. Todd turned and went to the railing.

Jimmy changed into street clothes. n.o.body had come after him into the locker room. What was that? He was the only reason his team had won their first seven games and not one person looking? He crept out of the locker room and underneath the bleachers. It was filthy, gonna get his new shoes-spotless Penny Hardaways-dirty, but he didnt care. Among crumpled programs, and spilled puddles of pop, he scanned the crowd between peoples feet, watching as the game went on. Then, way up in a little balcony, he saw his pops. Huge, bloated man swaying. Someone in the crowd caught sight of him. The chant changed back to "Dad-dys bet-ter!" Jimmy, weak and sad and he didnt know what else, stepped forward to get an angle. His pops was shouting something back at the crowd. His thinning hair swept down over his forehead. Sticking in clumps. Guy didnt look like a legend. Looked like he might die of a heart attack.

"Whats he saying?" someone above Jimmy asked.

"s.h.i.+t if I know," someone else answered, but it didnt matter because the final buzzer sounded and his pops was getting louder. Todd "Freight Train" Kirkus was yelling "NO IM NOT." Crazy grandpa, choked night of basketball, crying on the court, and now a dumba.s.s father making a scene? Brought to mind that day seeing his pops in the sand for some reason. Big man eating the tide. Pathetic.

Jimmy always knew he was small, but under all this weight, he felt it in a way he hadnt ever before. For the first time in his life he truly hated his pops.

For Berg it was tough to watch his old friend like that, even if Todd had just tried to take his head off. Leaning out over the railing, s.h.i.+rt come untucked to show his pasty flab, screaming down a bunch of high schoolers out for fun.

"NO IM NOT!" Todd was yelling, almost weeping, to the bewildered people below. Old fool was going to lean too far. So Berg was there. Grabbing him around the waist and setting him back down in his chair. Todd still had that doctors flask in his hand. He looked up at James with a crooked smile, best friends again for an instant. "You scored 33 points against Country Christian," he said.

"Yes," James said, laughing, almost crying too, "I did."

Todd finished the flask wetly and then pointed to McMahans leather bag. "The Docs," he said. He picked it up and made for the exit. James followed him down to the parking lot.

Once outside, Freight Train found Genny Mori crying by the van. The Doc was already gone and Freight Train rolled straight at her.

"You f.u.c.king s.h.i.+t-head," she said as he got closer. "Why are you like this?"

"A little fun?" He dropped the Docs bag at her feet as though it were proof.

"Youre not in high school anymore. You dont drink, remember?"

"Youre G.o.dd.a.m.n right, and youre not single, so why the h.e.l.l did the good doctor come all the way to Columbia City for a high school game?"

"Well."

"I saw you."

People watched from open car doors and rolled-down windows. The gossip web of Columbia City was already tingling with this electric new development.