Charley (26 page)

“PJ, you
are
a dirty old man, and I love it.”

PJ laughed and replied. “Guess I am. Wear some gym clothes and shoes. Pack what you want to wear shopping. We’ll shower at the gym and leave from there.”

At 8:45, we pulled up at the side entrance to the Old Field House where the Bulldogs practiced.

“Go on in and flip on the lights, I’ll get the balls.”

I walked through the dark foyer and pushed aside the double doors leading into the dimly light gym. The unique smell of an old gym with its freshly waxed floor, awakened memories for me of a quite different and simpler time. The early morning sun filtered into the huge room from the small windows around the top of the stands. The individual beams of light picked up dust particles, and formed diagonal patterns of light and dark streaks. It was as if I’d walked into my old high school gym at game time. Even in the quiet, I heard the crowd, heard Coach Byrd shouting encouragement, and could see the scoreboard on the far wall. Basking in the familiar warmth of the old gym, I air dribbled to center court, side stepped a defender, shuffled my feet, whirled around and took a jump shoot from half court. The unique squeak of sneakers on a basketball court joined the chorus of cheers in my mind.

I was home.

I miss this so much.

As if by magic, the distinctive sound of a bouncing basketball fully interrupted my daydreaming. I turned as one rolled to my feet. I scooped up the ball and headed for the far basket. I was airborne just inside the foul line, and floated to the basket, releasing a soft finger roll that barely ruffled the net as it dropped through.

God that felt good.

Retrieving the ball I began pushing the ball up-court. As I crossed the center line, a tall defender stepped out of the shadows and into my path. My instincts and training took control, and I charged directly at the shadow, faked right, then with a behind-the-back crossover dribble, I drove left. With arms pushing and elbows wide, I sold my drive to the basket. When the defender bought the drive, and pulled back to block the obvious layup, I stopped short and hit a perfect fadeaway jump shot. The sound of the net brought a satisfied smile to my face.

“Swish!!” I yelled out, and pumped my hands in the air.

Haven’t lost anything!

“Play some ball?” the shadow said.

“A little,” I gasped.

All gym rats are the same. The game has a mystical pull, especially in an old gym. It’s like an old pair of jeans with ragged hems and holes, and a fabric that has finally molded to the unique creases and folds of your body. When you need to relax, you want the familiar, whether it’s a pair of well worn jeans or a basketball gym. I just needed to relax.

“I miss basketball.”

“You must have played in high school, but those sure weren’t high school moves. Did you play college ball?”

“Four years at Tennessee.”

“Any good?”

“No, not really,” I bantered back. I lied.

“Want to play some?”

“Sure, you take it out first.”

We played like two freshmen, determined to show up the other, as if a position on the varsity was the prize. PJ was taller, bulkier and had experience at the pro level. But he was also older and heavier than his prime playing days, and slower. I didn’t have as much height, but I had speed and quickness. My college experience was at the highest level. While at Tennessee, I perfected a three-point jump shot that was hard to defend. And I used it!

So the rabbit and the bear did battle with the advantage swinging between the two. After a few minutes, the bear forgot how delicate the rabbit was, and knocked its backside with a practiced professional hip check. Not to be outdone, the rabbit stole the ball from the bear and dribbled around him, taunting him unmercifully to come get the ball. In the end, they both fell to the floor exhausted.

“I need a break.”

“Okay old man, I guess you can catch your breath.”

Finally, I had to admit. “I’m sore, a little out of practice.”

“You need a good rub down in the training room.”

“The trainer any good?”

“The best!”

We both laughed out loud.

“What are you so happy about Coach?”

The voice came from a tall thin kid. I instantly recognized the voice as belonging to Shannon, the point guard from the game last night.

“Hi Shannon.”

“Hi, Ms. Howard.”

“Call me Charley, Ms. Howard was my mom. Shannon, we were just messing around a bit, playing a little one-on-one.”

“Say what? I didn’t mean to interrupt Coach.”

“Basketball, big man. Basketball.”

I teased Shannon, and added a fist to his shoulder to emphasize the point. He was keen to continue to talk.

“Just kidding, I’ve been watching from the other end. It’s fun to see two old folks try to play a young man’s game.”

I looked him over. “Oh, you’re so dead skinny. You need someone to take you to school?”

He laughed heartily. “You gonna be my teacher? Bring it on.”

PJ couldn’t help but laugh. “Shannon, you said the wrong thing.”

“Let’s play a round of horse to get warmed up, if you think you can hang, Ms. Charley?”

“You’re on.”

I took the ball and dribbled to the top of the key. Without stopping I lifted in the air and stroked a perfect three-pointer. Shannon popped an equally perfect three, a staple of the Curtis arsenal.

We raced through the book of basketball shots, floating layups, sweeping hooks, three points from the corner, reverse layup, and on and on. The only shot I couldn’t make was the power slam dunk which Shannon used to punctuate a drive to the basket.

All I could do was applaud and cheer him. “You’re good, big man. I give up!”

“Where did you play ball Charley?” The sarcastic Ms. Charley was now dropped in a show of respect.  “You are damn … oh, excuse me … I mean
real
good.”

“Thanks, Shannon. That means a lot to me.”

I surprised the young man by hugging his six foot one inch frame, and planting a kiss on his sweaty cheek.

While we were matching shot for shot, Edelman, Johnston and three others entered the gym and sat watching the battle. They hooted and booed, and cheered each shot, generally ragging Shannon and cheering me.

With the game of horse apparently over, Edelman piped in. “How about a game guys?”

Edelman was ready to play. We split up, with PJ and me on one side with two of his prized freshmen. Shannon, Edelman, a young walk on and Johnston were on the other.

Shannon and I were naturals to guard each other. I was quick and experienced, but Shannon was quicker, and he had his ego on the line as a motivator. We seemed evenly matched for about ten minutes.

We scored and the ball went out to Shannon to start a play. He dribbled right and I dogged him, nearly tipping the ball out of his hand. He backed up and dribbled to the left, where he expected a pickup from Johnston. I saw the pick and squeezed through it, continuing to annoy the young collegiate. As we battled, the other six players noticed the heated contest and stopped to watch. Soon the floor was cleared except for Shannon and me, two sweaty and nearly exhausted gladiators, neither of whom was willing to give an inch.

Shannon spotted a small opening to his right, and drove around me heading for a smooth layup. Recovering a shade too late, I left my feet at the same time that Shannon began his layup. I extended a hand to block his shot from behind. I missed the ball, but my momentum slammed my full body into Shannon, sending him into the padded wall behind the goal, and onto the floor where he lay for a few seconds.

I rushed to the fallen guy and knelt beside him. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m so sorry.”

“No problem Charley, you can knock me down anytime.”

And a wide grin covered his young face.

“Hey, Shannon. You flirting with my girl?”

“Nah, Coach … I’m just jiving to another player.”

“Hey everyone, I’m hot and sweaty and dog-tired. I’m going to have to leave it to you guys.”

“Don’t leave now Charley, the fun is just starting.”

“Sorry … PJ, I need a shower. Any available in this old gym?”

“Sure. Guys, give us an hour, okay. Charley’s moving kind of slow.”

“You two be good now,” Edelman shouted back, as we left the gym floor and headed towards the locker room.

“There’s only one set of showers in this old place. Why don’t I get one first while you relax a minute?”

PJ was still laughing about Shannon and me.

“Wouldn’t give up, would you?”

“I couldn’t. Boy, he’s a smooth one.” I limped down the ancient hallway, stopping every few steps to flex my legs and prevent them from cramping. My mind was willing, but my body was not able to take one more step. I was totally exhausted. Finally I slumped against the wall and weakly called out. “PJ, stop.”

PJ had been walking ahead of me talking about something or other. I was too tired to pay attention. When he finally heard my plea, he turned around and rushed back to my side. “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

I had already slid down the tile wall, and sat on the floor, grabbing my leg in pain.

“Damn. You okay?”

“No, my legs are cramping and I don’t have the strength to go on.”

PJ reached for my calf and started to massage the cramp. “I’m sorry sweetheart; we should have warmed up first. Here, let me help you.”

“PJ, I don’t think a shower will help. I really need to soak in a tub of hot water. Would you mind if we went home and let me soak awhile? Maybe we can go shopping later. Okay?”

“Of course. Think you can make it to the car?”

“I’m not sure to be honest.”

As he had done before, PJ bent his six foot four inch frame and took me in his arms and headed for the front door. The sounds of the pickup game reverberated from the gym and into the hallway. As we left the musty old gym, a quick smile covered my face and I said to no one in particular. “I love basketball …”

*****

“Just let me soak for a while, and I’ll be as good as new, I promise.”

“Okay, I’ll get a quick shower in the other bathroom. After that I’ll be in the den reviewing game film if you need me. Just give me a shout. Why don’t I light a scented candle and put on some music for you?  Might help you relax.”

“Great idea PJ.”

The water of the Jacuzzi was on the hot side as I eased my body into the deep tub. I turned the nozzles on, slow at first, and nearly cried as the hot water whirled around my aching limbs. I slowly leaned against the back of the Jacuzzi, and let the therapeutic water cover me to my neck. Fortunately the tub was built to accommodate PJ’s tall frame, so I was able to lay flat with my legs fully extended. Strangely, my shoulders and arms were not sore, but every muscle, from my waist to my thighs and my little toe, hurt. “This is soo … good.”

I closed my eyes and cleared my mind to let the heat have freedom to work its magic. The warm sun filtering through the palladium window over the tub, the soft music from PJ’s sound system and the sweet aroma of the candle, combined with the hot massaging water to create a soothing balm for my weary body. Within minutes my eyes closed, and I allowed myself to take a brief cat nap.

Suddenly, I was gasping for breath. I opened my eyes and the hot water burned my pupils. I was drowning. I lashed out, kicking and paddling to regain my balance, and to escape from the deadly waters. My hand hit the side of the tub and I grasped the slippery side, trying to pull myself out of the water. I was splashing, coughing and grasping for a handhold on the side of the tub. I still couldn’t pull myself up, but had time to yell. “Help! Help me!” before I sank down under the turbulent waters.

I struggled to sit up, but the slick tub surface and the length of the tub wouldn’t give me any traction. I couldn’t breathe, and very real fears flooded my consciousness.

PJ rushed into the bathroom. From under the water, I could see his water-blurred face, and I wanted to scream, I’m here, please help me. But only precious air bubbles escaped from my mouth. As my oxygen-starved brain began to send me into darkness, I suddenly felt something under my head and shoulders. Coughing, and trying to fill my lungs with air, I was lifted up to the surface.

Spurting and coughing, I saw my rescuer and reached to pull myself out of the water. I clung hard to that solid anchor as I struggled to catch a clean breath. “I thought I was going to drown,” was all I could say in-between coughs.

PJ calmly held me tight, whispering reassurances in my ear.  “Hey, you’re okay now … I have you … you’re safe with me … don’t worry … I love you.”

After I regained my bearings, he asked. “What happened?”

I held onto him tightly, not quite ready to release my stronghold, pulling my thoughts together again. “I had the strangest dream. I was on a raft with a man, I couldn’t tell who, but he was holding me and I felt safe. The water began churning and became rough, and the raft keep rocking, and the man was washed overboard, and I was left all alone on that flimsy raft, and the waves got higher, and I fell in the water and screamed. But no one was there, the water was rough, and I was drowning and sinking. I was petrified. I couldn’t help myself. I was so totally helpless.”

I paused to catch my breath. “I looked up, and saw a man reach out and pull me out of the water.” I stopped to get another breath, smiled and said. “And he was you. PJ you saved me!”

And I hugged him tighter.

“Sounds scary, but I have you now.”

PJ pulled me to my feet and helped me step out of the tub.  He quickly wrapped an oversized bath towel around me and pulled me tightly to his chest, gently rubbing my body through the towel to dry me off. “You’re safe now. I have you … relax.”

He continued his soft cooing.

“PJ, this is the weird part. I felt like I knew the man, and was sad when he was washed overboard. But I don’t know who he was.”

“Charley, it was just a dream. You must have gone to sleep and slid under the water for a minute. Sweetheart, you still look exhausted. I’ll get something for your muscles.”