Clipped
Selling Short
The Prologue
Adam went up for the dunk, and Seth could see what Bryan was about to do. It was already too late to stop it. Adam fell, and as he landed the wet snap sounded throughout the arena. Everyone stood up to see, but Seth had a clear view.
“Holy shit!!” Seth’s eyes went wide. “His neck is wrong.”
Adam didn't get up. His face paled. He ran over to Bryan.
“What the fuck did you do that for?!”
“He sold us out, so I sold him out.”
It took a moment to register. Seth realized Bry wasn’t kidding.
“You on crack? He’s dead, son. Fucking dead!”
The people in the crowd kept trying to see what the deal was.
“He deserved it.”
Seth looked into Bryan’s eyes. There was no remorse, only two pools of blackness that had no bottom. Bryan spit on the body.
“Fucking sellout.”
The Coming
Seth had been playing ball since he was little. It was all he knew. He’d play every day after school with his older brother James until it got dark. Near the end, James would let Seth blow by for easy baskets, just to let his confidence build up. On the fourth one, James would leap out of nowhere to rocket his brother’s shot into the fence. Then he’d give the lecture. Seth knew it by heart.
“You can have a nice j or a wicked dribble, but if some nigga’s got ups on you, tha shot ain’t goin’ nowhere. It’s all in the hops.” Seth knew the stuff was coming on the fourth shot, but he always tried. It was a concept thing. What if James let him slip by?
When they got tired, they’d go over to other court on the playground and watch the games. The high school guys and all the dropouts. The same playground has given birth to players like “Booger” Smith, Stephon Marbury, and Malik Sealy. The games would be rough. Shirts and skins. Chains, jeans or khakis, and Tims or sneakers were standard attire. Trash talk would slice through the afternoon air and burn the ears of passerby. It was fun when guys could back it up.
The play was as flashy as the jewelry. Guys would bust off crossovers for fun, toss no-look, behind the back passes, and dunk over as many peeps as possible at once. The flash was a necessity. When “no blood, no foul” is in effect, the more distance you put between yourself and the defender, the smaller the chance of getting knocked out. But stripes have to be earned. Bitch out and don’t play. Build a rep for goin’ hard. Don’t live up to the rep, and people get disappointed. Peeps ain’t like bein’ disappointed. Disappoint someone, you best bust out the next game and throw down on somebody.
Seth was in awe. He wanted to play in those games. James never got to play in those games. For all his brother talked about ups, that was all James had. No dribble, no shot, no playing time. Seth vowed not to make the same mistake.
Adam had done it all himself. His dad was in jail and his mom was working two jobs to support them. His mom, Ellie, made him join the after-school team in 1st grade. It’s safe to say Adam had an affinity for basketball. In three years he was playing for the 12 to 15 team as a ten year old.
Adam could can three’s from the high school line at an age most kids could barely chuck it from more than 15 feet. His dribble was tight enough to break kids that were 4 years older than he was. It hadn’t come easy.
Adam spent countless hours practicing in the gym. Ellie was reassured that he was off the streets. Coaches would run him ragged, and she’d pick him up and make sure he did his homework. It was hard for him. Basketball was the one thing he was good at. He tried to push school to the side, but Ellie wouldn’t let him. He’d complain and try to go to sleep, but she’d stand over and watch until it was done. It sucked. He just wanted to play.
Bryan was late to the game. He didn’t start really playing ball until 6th grade. Just never got around to it. One day his friends brought him down to the playground. The game started up and Bry was cheering them on from the sidelines. A couple of minutes in, there was a hard foul, and one of the guys was knocked out of commission. Playing odd teams didn’t work, so they asked Bry if he wanted in. He hesitated a second.
“Yeah. Sure.” It was the best decision he ever made.
The game resumed as normal, plays going back and forth. Bryan didn’t ask for the ball as he tried to get into the flow of the game. He just played “d” on his man and double teamed the other teams best guy. He saw an opening in his man’s dribble and poked the ball away, and watched, stunned, as it rolled out-of-bounds.
One of his teammates leaned over and whispered to him, “Nice steal, dog. But you gotta go after those.” Bryan nodded.
“Sure. I’ll get the next one.”
“Aight.” He gave him a pound and they set up to defend the inbounds pass.
The pass was a little high, and Bry leapt and picked it off. He started to dribble downcourt, full force. He had one man to beat and put his head down. The defender stepped up, and Bry froze him with a crossover, put the ball behind his back, went back the other way, and laid the ball off the backboard. It was too hard and bounced off, but no one grabbed the rebound. Everyone was standing there gaping.
“What?” Bry asked. One friend managed to pick his jaw up off the floor.
“What?! Niggs busts off some Kenny Anderson shit and asks ‘What?’ Son, where’d you pull that from?”
“I dunno,” said Bryan. He shrugged. “It just felt right.”
“Damn. Whatever. I like it. Just finish next time.”
The Arrival
Even though he knew better, Seth took his brother?s advice to heart. He?d stand on his tiptoes in the corner for half an hour each night before going to bed. His calves were freakish. They were nearly as large as his thighs by 7th grade. A growth spurt of eight inches over two years evened out his body to a sleek 6?4?.
Seth knew he had ups, but never let on to his brother. He?d keep playing like normal, and lose, but the games were closer now. James couldn?t afford to give him the easy ones.
One day in spring of freshman year, Seth was feeling especially bouncy. He knew today was the day. It bugged him all day, like a gnat that won?t go away, even if you swat it. The bell rang, and he shot up and raced home.
The air was crisp, and felt good coursing down Seth?s throat. He got the ball out of his apartment and went down to the court to warm up. He started shooting jumpers, and was so keyed up they weren?t falling. Everything bounced of the back rim. The breeze started to cool him off a little, and his shots began to fall just as James showed up.
?So eager to lose?? James asked.
?Whatever.?
?I?ll be down in a sec.?
The game started and James shot for ball and missed. Seth took the first ball and dribbled once to the right, spun off his brother to the left, took two steps and took off. That was where the stories started. The description changes depending on who you ask. One story has Seth?s hand over the top of the backboard. Another has his legs over the 2nd crossbar on the chain link fence. The throwdown nearly left sparks flying off the metal net.
James stood at the foul line, staring. ?Uhhmm? No??
The game was over. Seth made quick work of James, rising to block shots on defense and jaying over his brother?s outstretched arms. The game ended with another dunk, this one not quite as emphatic as the first. James slowly approached his brother, a newfound respect sparkling in his eyes.
?Good game.? He shook Seth?s hand. ?I guess this is it.?
?Yeah. I guess.?
Seth and James walked off the court, arms draped around each other?s shoulders. They were passing through the back entrance when someone called out from behind.
?Hey!? Seth looked over his shoulder. It was one of the hardcore players.
?Seth right??
?Yeah.?
?Adam Johnson. You wanna play ball tomorrow??
?Aight. Where at??
?Next court over. You game??
?Yeah. I?ll be there.?
?Later. Bring that shit I seen today.?
?Peace.? Seth was trying not to smile. He waited until Adam was a safe distance away before beaming. ?Ho' SHIT!! I?m gonna be playin? with the big boys now.?
James smiled at him. ?Yeah, dog. Good shit. Make me Proud.?
They went home laughing the whole way. Just before they went to sleep, Seth went into James? room. He couldn?t see his brother in the dark.
?Hey James.?
James half rolled and slighty lifted his head. ?Yeah?? An arm shot out and turned the light clicked on.
?Thanks? For everything.?
?No prob. Good luck tomorrow. Night.? The light clicked off.
?Night.?
Bryan was earning his stripes. He went all out on the court. He had to. He?d never been tall. A four-inch spurt shot him all the way to 5?9? for freshman year. He didn?t have a jay. But none of it mattered, cuz he could pass. From anywhere, to anywhere, and he always hit the open man. He could whip a pass from his ankles to his ears. Off the dribble, one-touch, no-look, wraparound- you name it, he did it. It usually took guys a couple of games to get used to playing with him. If you weren?t expecting the ball, you were gonna catch it right up in your grill, full force.
Bry was becoming a legend in his own right. They started to call him "the Barber" cuz of the way he kept carving up defenders. One time, he drove around a whole team, got up on the center, and wrapped a pass around the guy?s back. A streaking teammate found the ball in his hands and promptly threw down on the hapless center. Net Result: two points, three sprained ankles, and one busted ass ego.
Bryan never held back. He?d drive the lane on anybody, whether they were 7 feet tall or outweighed him by 100 pounds. He would go straight at ?em, eyes ablaze. His rough play got him into a lot of shit. His quick temper didn?t help him get out of it. Bryan got into more than his share of brawls. He always managed to avoid real beef though. He got too much props for his skills for someone to try and start shit without mad peeps defusing it.
Bryan?s best and worst chemistry was with Adam Johnson. Together they were unbelievable. Adam would pop the ball loose and start the fast break with a quick tap pass to Bryan. Bryan would take it and dribble up the court with two right bounces, two crosses, two stutters and pass back. The defense would know it was coming, but couldn?t touch it. Bry would sense if Adam had a clear lane or room to pull up. The ball would find its way to Adam, on a different route each time. Off the backboard, bounce pass through the defender?s legs, no-look, straight up in the air. It was always where Adam could get it and no defender could touch.
Emotions ran high, and so did expectations. If one of them screwed up the other would let it go. Once. Something happened twice and they?d be yelling at each other, seconds away from killing somebody.
Put them on opposing teams, and it was on. You?d be in for some John Starks/Reggie Miller shit. Adam?s tight d frustrated Bryan. That was the only time Bry turned over the ball. Bry would come right back and clamp down Adam?s shot. With no room to drive or shoot, they had to use brute force. Adam used a hard dribble, ass bump, and hook; Bryan would cross until Adam committed in the slightest, hesitate, push off, and pass for an easy deuce. They both got ?and ones?.
They?d come out of games bruised and bloody. Scratches up and down their arms. Black and blues covering shoulders and thighs. Scrapes on knees and elbows from hard fouls. Shit would get heated with some quickness. One of ?em would actually call foul and the other would protest like they was OJ at his murder trial. It?d take like 4 peeps to hold each nigga back.
Bryan was cool. He was jealous cuz Adam had better game than he did, but let it slide cuz they were still undefeated as a duo. Nobody could take them. Bry could pass, and Adam had his j and solid d, but there was still something missing. He didn?t know Adam had found it.
Adam was nice. He was the one people talked about. Not playground peeps, but basketball people. Adam was 6?6?, and played small forward. He was one of the new breed, with the handles of a point guard, quick hands on ?d?, and deadeye accuracy all the way out to the three point line. His passing was a little shabby, but when you could score like he could, why give up the ball?
Then again, if he was right, he might have to reconsider that. That kid yesterday, Seth, had thrown down the most vicious dunk he had ever seen. It looked like he hadn?t tried. He just stepped and was flying. There?s no other way to describe it. He thought he had seen the ball over the backboard, but he had a bad angle. That just wasn?t possible. Either way, that shit was crazy.
He?d see what happened today. The court was starting to fill up, players warming into game shape. There was an air of expectation around the game. People wanted to see the kid. They were calling him ?Updraft? cuz he got up so high.
Seth showed up low-key and kept a low profile, taking jumpers when the ball came his way, and laying it up once or twice. He was nervous. He didn?t remember seeing all these people normally. Why were they here? Whatever. All he could do was play. Adam went over to Bryan.
?'Sup, bro? See the newbie??
?Nothing much dog. Yeah. 'Draft??
?The same. I saw him throw some shit down yesterday. He?s ours.? Adam called out to the other team. ?We got Draft.?
?Let?s go.?
Adam, Seth, and Bryan were up by 3. Seth had had some trouble getting adjusted to Bryan?s passes and the rough nature of the games. Bry had thrown a pass off the dribble behind the back and Seth had reacted late, fumbling the ball out of bounds. He had gotten burned twice on defense when his man pushed off and blew by him. People started to look disdainful. He had to pick it up.
Adam?s man forced up a shot, and the ball bounced off the side rim, and went out-of-bounds. Bry went over to Adam.
?Son, Draft ain?t shit right now. He better show me some real shit soon.?
?Don?t worry kid. Trust me.?
The inbounds pass came in to Bryan?s man. He faced up and cut left. Too bad he didn?t have the ball. Seth saw his chance and bolted down court. The crowd rose to its feet, hopes high. Without looking, Bryan hit Seth in stride. He took three dribbles, stepped on the foul line, three-sixtied and tomahawked the ball through the net. He hung on the rim and screamed in exhilaration.
Adam looked over at Bryan and grinned. ?Told you so.?
Complications
Adam, Seth, and Bryan became inseparable. Basketball brought them together. It would also drive them apart.
They hung out all the time. It was a rare moment to see one of them without at least one of the other two. Seth was the connection Bryan and Adam were previously missing. Luckily, he was a calming influence on the two hotheads.
Seth and Adam were already in the cafeteria when Bryan came over. Bryan was pissed. He stormed across the green marble tiles, and threw his bag down.
“You know we gotta try out for the fuckin’ basketball team?!”
Seth was a little nervous. When Bry got like this, you never knew where things would go. People on line for lunch started to glance over.
“Yeah. So?”
“So? They should be handin’ us that shit man! They should get the fuck down and beg!”
Adam jumped in, voice laced with sarcasm. “Yes. But it’s not fair to everybody else if we don’t let them try.”
People leaned closer to see what would happen next.
Seth thought to himself, “Bad move. That’s just gonna get him more pissed off.” He tried to defuse the bomb. His hand went up and he cut off Bryan just as Bry was about to make a comeback. “Whoa there, buddy. It’ll be a good chance for us to son mad peeps.”
“Whatever.” Bry brushed Seth’s hand away. “And get your hand the fuck outta my face.”
Adam was just about the only calm one in the gym. It was sticky hot in there from the sheer number of people. There were about 110 kids in a gym built to hold 67 according to the fire department plaque on the wall. Everyone was lined up against the back wall, waiting for the coach to get there. Coach Baker was revered. He had led Muranto High to the seven out of the last eight city champs, and three out of the last five state championships. His word was bond to the kids. They ate up anything he said. Adam always wondered why he was still coaching high school if he was so good.
The guys were burning off the nervous energy in different ways. Some guys were hopping up and down, like Seth next to him; others were stretching, or practicing moves without the ball. Seth was making it hard to concentrate. “Hey. Can you cut that the fuck out?”
Seth landed and rolled onto his heels.
“Stop what?”
“The jumping. It’s pissing me off.”
Seth rolled his head and mumbled, “Whatever. It’s a habit.”
The two of them looked over as some guy was getting up from the floor. It looked like he had broke his own ankles. Everybody laughed off some tension. Seth turned to Adam.
“I’ve never done this shit before. It’s weird, dog.”
Adam stared blankly at the sideline basket across from him. The backboard was edged with foam rubber.
“Aight man, just try to focus.”
Seth hopped once, caught himself before the next one and nodded to get Adam’s attention.
“Where’s Bryan?”
Adam shook his head slowly from side to side.
“Dunno. Don’t worry. He’ll be here.”
Bryan was heated. He bolted through the halls, intent on getting to the gym. He ran into four people on the way, spinning them around and spilling their books all over. He didn’t have time to apologize. Besides, he didn’t feel like it.
This tryout thing was bullshit. He knew he was gonna make the team. So why bother? There just wasn’t a point to it. He knew he had to though. He needed more than the playgrounds could offer. With a real coach, Bry was a lot less likely to blow up, on the court and off. His game was at his best when he used his anger positively, instead of forcing shots and passes and starting with people over petty shit. Fuck it. He just wanted to play.
Bryan skidded around a corner and slowed to a jog as he entered the gymnasium.
“Damn,” he said to himself as he scanned the crowd. “Lotta people here today.”
He spotted Adam and Seth and went over. He gave them both pounds.
“’Sup?”
Seth and Adam offered a typical “Nothin’ much.”
Adam noticed the sweat beading up on Bry’s forehead.
“Get a head start?” he asked. “Heads up dog.”
Adam pointed behind Bry, who turned to see Coach Baker walking in. He lined up next to Bryan and Seth.
“Here we go.”