Story:

Johnny Tom

The piercing noise shattered the dry cool summer air in Johnny Tom’s darkened bedroom. The 10-year old quickly sprang from his bed as if shot from a gun, he dressed as quickly and as quietly as possible so as to not wake his little brother, grabbed his prized basketball, and silently left the room. It was going to be a great day.

Most kids on summer vacation would not wake up at 5:30am to go shoot hoops. But Johnny was not your average kid. And this was not your average day. Today Johnny would hopefully meet his hero, Billy “Speed” Banks, the best prep basketball player Johnny had ever seen.

It took only a few minutes for Johnny to get ready (for he slept in his basketball clothes), creep downstairs, go outside, and close the front door behind him. No one inside heard or saw the child slink into the crisp dry desert air of Mesa, Arizona. It’s unlikely any neighbor heard him through closed windows either. It is true that even in summer the windows on most homes remained closed all night; for most people were sound asleep during the time it becomes most advantageous to open a window and enjoy a rare cool summer night. The blistering and sometimes deadly daytime temperatures fail to relent until well after almost everyone is asleep.

But on this particular morning, Johnny found the cooler air refreshing and the prospect of what could happen later that day was exciting. In fact, Johnny had been looking forward to this specific day for several weeks, ever since he heard that Speed, his neighbor’s cousin, would be coming to stay with his family for a few days.

Every kid who followed Arizona high school basketball knew about Speed Banks. Most adults followed the spectacular career of the prep star as well, and thanks to extensive coverage from local and national sports media, Speed was quickly becoming a household name among sports enthusiasts across the country. According to Speed’s cousin, Ricky Banks, letters from every major college program in the country arrived at the Banks’ household daily. The family unofficially ‘hired’ a ‘consultant’ to make sure their son’s interests were considered. And this young superstar would-in a matter of a few short hours-be playing ball on the same court where Johnny and his friends played every day.

As soon as the front door clicked shut, Johnny began dribbling his basketball as he made his way from his front yard to the court situated directly across the street from his home. The sound of the ball hitting first the cement of his walk to the pavement of the street could be heard echoing off the stucco-sided walls of the homes in Johnny cul-de-sac. A single streetlight illuminated just enough of the basketball court for Johnny to make out a shape of an old 10-speed bicycle and an outline of a child sitting cross-legged at the court’s far end. Johnny smiled realizing he would not be the first to enter the playground in anticipation of this big day. Johnny’s best friend Karl beat him to the court.

Karl Simpson lived at the other end of the planned community known as Shade Glen, a development barely four years old situated southwest of downtown Mesa. Newer homes dotted the labyrinth of roads where in Johnny and Karl’s homes rested, saplings of oak trees, still braced with wooden supports, gave precious little shade in Shade Glen, however, developers planned for beautiful mighty trees to one day line the streets and provide shade for all to enjoy.

The park facing Johnny’s house contained four full-length basketball courts, several tennis courts, eight soccer fields, and various playground equipment for those too small to enjoy the thrill of organized sports. In the three years Johnny lived at Shade Glen he never even set foot in the playground areas, keeping exclusively to the basketball courts. Playgrounds were for little kids, Johnny would say and Karl would concur. And so it would be most summer days, Johnny and Karl would practice for hours until the heat of the mid-morning sun drove them to cooler environs.

“Hey,” Johnny said to the form sitting before him. He knew Karl had clicked off the music on his IPod just as Johnny’s foot touched the first court. Karl loved music as much as Johnny loved hoops, and it was only fitting each boy excelled at what they loved most-Karl was an excellent musician. Karl would, however, shoot baskets with Johnny, but it was obvious Karl lacked the physical ability to keep up with his talented friend. Sometimes the two would have a game of one-on-one, and at those times Johnny would intentionally go easy on his friend. When he did Karl knew Johnny wasn’t really trying, but neither child would say anything about the soft treatment. They were too good of friends for that to ever happen.

When the two weren’t ‘competing’ against each other, Karl usually fetched errand basketballs on the rare occasions when Johnny missed a shot. The two spent hours, Johnny shooting and Karl retrieving under the basket, all the while they talked about school, basketball, videogames, basketball, movies, basketball, and even-but with strictly limited occurrence-girls. After that the two usually discussed basketball.

Off the court and especially on the court, the two friends made an unusual pair. Johnny was tall for his age, a gifted athlete, who was socially adept in any situation. Karl could best be described as a nerd, even the glasses fit the stereotype. Karl was uncoordinated, awkward, and socially backward to the point he had few friends. There was a time when Johnny actually had to choose between sticking up for Karl in public, or being cool in the eyes of his peers. The decision was an important one for a newly relocated seven-year old who desperately wanted friends. He once asked his dad what he should do about the situation and the advice he received from his father turned out to be exactly what a young boy who wanted to do the right thing needed.

Johnny thought about his father’s advice several times in the past three years. “Son,” he said. “You’ve been taught what is right and what is wrong. Making fun of someone who is different is never the right thing to do. Remember, right is always right and wrong is always wrong.” After that, there was never a question in Johnny’s mind as to what he should do. He stuck up for Karl every time. Sure, it probably cost him some friends, but then again, Johnny didn’t want to be friends with people who picked on Karl anyway.

It wasn’t just basketball Karl put up with in order to hang with Johnny. He also endured the talk of basketball and the watching of game after game being played on TV. And if there happened to be a Phoenix Suns game on, well, that night was blocked out on both the young men’s schedules as soon as both the pre-season and regular season schedules were announced. For these two, there was nothing better than to spend an evening sitting in Johnny’s basement, sprawled out in front of the biggest television Karl had ever seen as the Sun’s reduced another team to middle-of-the-league mediocrity. Of course-though neither boy would admit it-the really close games proved even more enjoyable just as long as Steve Nash hit a game-winning three-pointer from the top of the arch. At which time the boys (and anyone else who happened to be in the basement at the time) would jump as high as they could and scream long and loud as the men clad in purple and gold walked off the court victorious-it was how life was meant to be.

Even in the off-season, Johnny followed the Sun’s acquisitions, their prospects for the best free agent available, even checking the team’s website on a daily and sometimes hourly basis. There were few things-very few things-that could possibly steal Johnny’s attention away from his beloved Suns. One of those rare things was the news of Speed Banks arrival. Ricky said Speed would be visiting from Tucson for three days. Both he and Johnny talked at length of having Speed come by and shoot some hoops with his cousin and some friends on this very day. Johnny even had trouble thinking about the inevitable meeting, telling anyone who was not already sick of hearing, that this event would be bigger than Christmas, because Christmas comes around every year. Speed Banks’ appearance was an once-in-a-lifetime event. No doubt the teenage phenom would never set foot in this tiny park in the middle of Shade Glen again. If some predictions held true, Speed was destined for greatness by way of Duke University, then early entry to the NBA lottery. After that, the only time Johnny would ever get to see his idol again would be either on TV, or when Speed’s team would play the Suns. Yes, this was going to be a very special day, indeed.

“So, what do you think he’s like?” Johnny asked Karl as he made a three-point shot and Karl calmly passed him the ball from under the basket.

“Don’t know,” Karl said with a shrug. He had answered that same question the same way dozens of times in the past few days, and at least five times that morning. Johnny was so excited he didn’t realize the questions he asked Karl had, for all intensive purposes, become the equivalent of rambling.

“I’ll bet he’s really cool. I watched that ESPN interview of him from last March again last night. You know the one-after they won the state championship?”

Of course Karl remembered the interview. He had almost memorized every question and every answer during the entire 11 minutes interview, a feat Johnny mastered within days of its airing. Sometimes after Johnny made a spectacular move to the basket, or a tough angle shot off the glass he would repeat one of Speed’s many interview answers as if pushing the play button on the video recorder. He even copied Speed’s voice reflections to the point Johnny almost sounded just like him.

As the boys played and talked, the desert sky slowly lightened; a precursor to the sun’s inevitable arrival. The illumination heightened Johnny anticipation. When would Speed show? It could be anytime! He might even wake up before his cousin’s family and come to the court to practice those sweet moves on his own, just like Johnny did hundreds of times before. After all, you don’t get that good by sitting around all day. I’ll bet he practices every second he gets, thought Johnny.

Swoosh! Another shot. Man, thought Johnny. I can’t miss this morning, and the accuracy of his shots supported the claim. Even Karl noticed Johnny’s game had improved this morning. Maybe Johnny might even get to play with Speed. Wouldn’t that be something! Karl smiled at the possibility.

A car would now and then pass by the park. The neighbors who knew Johnny found his practicing normal. It would seem strange had he not been there. Few noticed however, the look of pure joy on the young man’s face as the ball seemed to find its target every time on this warming summer morning.

Another twenty minutes passed, and more cars drove by the park. The boys were oblivious to the commuters until a big silver Cadillac pulled up and parked in the lot west of the basketball courts. The boys heard the car stereo before the car had even come into view and knew exactly who drove the behemoth. Charlie Walker came to play. This wasn’t unusual-Charlie showed up many times while Johnny and Karl went through their summer morning ritual. This morning, however, Charlie’s car was followed by another, and then another until six older teenage boys left their cars and sidled on the court-each dribbling a brand new $100 basketball. Charlie’s ‘posse’ had arrived.

“Great,” Johnny said completely dejected. “They’re going to hog the whole court. I’ll bet Ricky invited them to play with Speed.”

The 10-year old who only moments before was making shots like a pro and hustling to find his next launch point now turned and walked over to the bench at the far end of the court. Karl had seen some of these guys before. Charlie was a friend of Ricky’s older brother and most of the kids now shooting the ball (and missing most of their shots) lived in Manor Estates, a housing project ½ mile west of Shade Glen. He and Johnny had seen them around, mostly hanging out at the 7-Eleven after school. They seemed okay-they never gave either Karl or Johnny any trouble, but they did seem to pick on any girl within earshot of them. And they seemed to be extra mean to Becky, the nice lady who worked behind the counter. She always said ‘Hello’ to Karl and Johnny whenever they walked in.

Karl looked at his friend sitting at the far end of the court watching the older boys pretend to be real basketball players. He knew his friend well enough to imagine what Johnny was thinking and Karl’s assumptions proved true.

Man, those guys are terrible, thought Johnny. When Speed shows up, they’ll just act all big and tough to impress him and I won’t get a chance to play. Johnny was hoping no one else would show up, but in re-thinking this, he realized there could be dozens, even hundreds of people showing up this morning. After all, Speed would be playing for thousands and tens of thousands of screaming fans in a matter of months. Why should this morning be any different? Karl retrieved the loose ball and awkwardly dribbled the ball over to where Johnny sat.

“Don’t worry about those clowns,” Karl said in an attempt to comfort his friend. “Speed will see how crappy they are and he’ll want to play with you.” Against his own doubts, Johnny believed what Karl had said and he actually felt better. A smile told Karl he’d said the right thing.

“You’re right, Karl. Look, they can’t even hit a lay-up.” Both boys began laughing at the older players, though not too loud to be heard. The last thing a 10-year old kid wanted to do was to be found laughing at a teenager.

Johnny jumped up, ran to the top of the key, and called for the ball. Gladly Karl hurled it in his direction. In one fluid move, Johnny caught the ball as he jumped and before he started coming down released the round globe toward the basket. The ball sailed beautifully, its arch perfect as it reached the nylon net. Swoosh, the intoxicating sound of cowhide and nylon merging in a manner is if nature had intended these two elements, one natural, one other man-made, to come together in just such a fashion.

“Sweet shot.” The words hung in the air. Johnny had heard that voice before; it came from someone he knew, but these were not the words of his trusted companion Karl. These words came from somewhere behind him. Even before Johnny turned to see the person who witnessed his shot and commented on it, an anticipation gripped the boy’s stomach and a wave of excitement and fear almost make him unable to move. He knew who has spoken those words, and when at last he did turn to see, his assumptions were confirmed. Standing behind Johnny stood Billy “Speed” Banks and his cousin Ricky. The two had walked to the park, something Johnny had not anticipated, and surprised everyone by their blind entrance.

“Uh, thanks,” was all Johnny could manage to say.

“I’m serious, that was sweet. Bet you $50 you can’t do that again.”

Johnny didn’t know what to think. Karl obediently tossed him the ball. Johnny grabbed and held it on his hip trying to figure out if this was a valid offer.

“You serious?” Johnny asked, the obvious confusion shown in his voice.

“Nah, I was just kidding.” Both Speed and Ricky laughed. “Can’t bet on the game if you want to play with the big boys. Those NC-Double-A boys are everywhere.” The two cousins kept laughing as they began walking toward the group of teenagers who also noticed a star in their midst.

Johnny watched the two as they made their way over to the older boys. Without a word Johnny threw the ball at Karl who instinctively knew what to do. As if a ‘replay’ button was pushed on a VCR, Karl threw the exact same pass to Johnny, same speed, same location. Johnny jumped exactly like he did before, caught the pass on the way up and released the ball as he reached his apex. Just like before the ball found its sweet spot and fell to the court.

The second shot was as impressive as the first and Speed once again took notice. It was something good ball players knew when they saw something almost no one else could do. Speed and Ricky again stopped to admire the kid’s talent.

“It’s a good thing I don’t bet, or I’d be out 50 bucks.” Speed changed directions, and walked away from Charlie and his boys. He made his way over to Johnny as Karl obediently passed the ball again to his friend.

“I’m Speed Banks,” he said and a hand, a huge hand came forward towards Johnny. In awe, Johnny shook his hand noticing just how big this superstar was.

“You’re Johnny, right? Ricky’s told me you were good.”

No way! If Johnny was overwhelmed at the thought of even seeing his idol in person, the fact that this ball player actually knew Johnny’s name was enough to send him into orbit.

“You’ve heard of me?” was all Johnny could say.

“Well, Ricky said you had skills, and for once, my cousin may be right. Let’s see what you got. What do you say you go one-on-one with your friend there?”

A panic hit both Johnny and Karl at the same time for the same reason. They were both afraid of embarrassing the other. It was Johnny who tried to prevent that from happening.

“No, how ‘bout I play against Ricky, he’s….”

“Come on,” said Speed. “No, you’re already playing with him.” He pointed to Karl. I mean anyone can learn to shoot, it’s defense that wins games. You,” Speed pointed to Karl. “What’s your name?” Speed spoke like a person who demanded respect.

“Karl,” he said, the lack of power in his voice made the sounds barely audible to the group.

“Yo, Karl. Come up here and try to prevent Mr. Swoosh from scoring.”

With almost painful trepidation Karl walked over to his friend. He did not want to be in this position. Should he just stand there and let Johnny drive past him? That wouldn’t make Johnny look good. If Speed wanted to see what Johnny could do, he needed some competition on the court, even if he was no match for his friend. Karl made up his mind that he was going to try his best to keep Johnny away from the basket. What ever it took.

Johnny watched Karl walk toward him. He casually bounced the ball while he waited. By now everyone from the other court had gathered around the two in anticipation of a showdown. Johnny wondered what Karl would do. He knew Karl wasn’t any good on the court. Maybe he’d just move aside and let him make a quick lay-up. He wasn’t sure. He felt bad for his friend because whatever Karl did, these guys were going to see just how bad he was at basketball. The though of embarrassing his friend made Johnny feel sick inside.

Finally Karl stopped five feet in front of his friend. Johnny looked at Karl and the two seemed to know what the other was thinking. Johnny looked down. While dribbling the ball, he looked up at Karl and began shaking his head-his movements so small as if not to attract attention of anyone watching. Karl saw Johnny say ‘no’ and nodded as if to say, ‘bring it on. I won’t embarrass you.’

Johnny could feel every eye boring into his back like hot irons in a blacksmith’s fire. He had to act. Once again Karl nodded. He was ready.

In a move Johnny had practiced thousands of times, Johnny immediately took a quick step directly at Karl closing the distance between the two. The speed at which Johnny moved surprised everyone, including Karl who had seen the move so many times and knew exactly what Johnny was going to do next. Even with this foreknowledge, Karl instinctively stepped back. Johnny stopped hard on his right foot, at the same time dribbled the ball from his right hand over to his left. As the ball made the transition, Johnny pivoted turning his back to Karl and jumping to the left, his left hand directed the basketball to bounce away from Karl as his body rotated to the right. With his back to Karl, Johnny charged to the right in order to blow by Karl on his way to the hoop.

So, he’s going to go right, Karl thought. I know how to stop him. In a speed faster than Johnny anticipated, Karl darted to his left, knowing exactly what Johnny was going to do having seen him execute that move thousands of times before. The consequence of his familiarity with this move proved costly for Karl. As Johnny swung around expecting Karl to be a step or two behind he smashed into Karl’s body, the two boy’s heads collided and Johnny’s weight advantage and momentum powered over the smaller boy. Karl wilted under the force of the blow, folding to the court, his head aching from the contact. Johnny rolled several times; eventually coming to rest yards away. The ball flew forward and Karl’s glasses bounced across the hard surface of the basketball court.

It was embarrassment Johnny first felt, a feeling soon replaced by rage as most of the spectators were laughing at the sight of the two boys. Johnny took one look at Karl holding his head with his two hands and his anger disappeared. He was worried about his friend.

The teenagers continued laughing as they walked back to their court. Johnny began moving. He wanted to pick up Karl’s eyeglasses before he made his way to where Karl sat. As he started to get up, he saw Speed walking toward him.

“Man,” Speed said. “If it weren’t for him, that would have been a nice move.” Speed looked down at Karl as he walked right by him to reach Johnny. “Here, brother,” Speed said as he offered Johnny his hand to help him up.

Johnny took his hand and accepted the help. This time Speed’s hand didn’t see so big. “Come on,” Speed said. “Why don’t you come over and we’ll get a game going with those guys?” Speed pointed to the group already on the other court. Johnny stopped, looked at the teenagers and then walked over to where the glasses lay. He picked them up and looked at Karl. The moment seemed to last a while as he saw his friend, still sitting on the court gently rubbing his head with the palm of his hand, a small tear rolled silently down his cheek. “No thanks,” Johnny said as he walked past Speed to check on his friend. “I need to check on Karl. I think he’s hurt.”

Johnny knelt and handed the glasses to Karl. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just bonked my head. You okay?” Karl took the glasses and put them on.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine-scraped my elbow a bit.” He lifted his right arm to show where the skin around his elbow was missing. It was red, but not bleeding too badly.

“Nice,” Karl said as he was helped up in a similar fashion to Speed’s gesture. “I would have thought you’d be screaming home to your mommy right about now.”

Karl’s comment told Johnny no permanent damage had occurred. Karl was always razzing his friend. It was endearing.
The two boys started walking to where the ball came to rest below the basketball standard, each giving their own version of the great crash between the two. They were oblivious to the fact that Speed stood at the place Johnny had fallen. He obviously wanted something.

“Hey, kid,” Speed’s tone was less than friendly. “I asked you if you wanted to play with me, instead of hanging around this loser.”

The two boys stopped and turned to look at Speed who stood alone waiting for a response. Johnny was shocked at what Speed just said, but he was still concerned about Karl’s head. He chose to ignore the future multi-millionaire and continued walking with Karl to a bench at courtside.

“Man, Ricky said you were cool,” Speed said as he began walking toward the group of teenagers waiting his arrival. “You’re nothing, man. See you at the Staples Center.” And Speed entered a circle of admiration on the other court. A pick up game began which quickly turned into a series highlight moments featuring Speed throwing down spectacular dunks and jams, thrilling everyone, except two friends sitting quietly on a bench.

“You sure you’re okay?” Johnny asked for the fourth time.

“I’m fine,” came the reply, Karl still rubbing his head. “You should have gone to play with him. I don’t care if he thinks I’m a loser-most people do.”

“Na, he’s the loser,” Johnny said with a smile. “I mean, he’s a Laker’s fan. Come on, let’s go to my house and get patched up.”
As the two wounded players hobbled from the bench to Johnny’s house, the morning sun reached higher in the summer sky, warming the air. Johnny and Karl laughed as they walked, completely ignoring the crowd of boys still enthralled with the athletic ability of Billy “Speed” Banks. It had already been a really good day.