"Come on kid, show me what you got."
Another day at the park, and another disbeliever to prove something to. Will thought that by now people would quit acting so surprised, but every time he beat one of them they still looked at him in awe, as if they doubted what they had seen was possible.
As always, once he set foot on the court all the kids would crowd around to watch. Today, his opponent was Anthony, a backup guard on the local community college team. Will knew he wouldn't have any problems with him. He was only giving up a few inches and maybe twenty pounds, which was a lot less than usual. The older boy checked the ball to Will and took up his defensive stance. Will smiled down at the ball in his hands for a moment before bringing his eyes back up to his opponent. He had his game face on now, and was ready to put on a show.
The game was almost over before it started. Without taking a single dribble, Will rose up and drained a long jump shot. The ball was out of his hands so fast Anthony didn't even have enough time to try and block it. Anthony muttered to himself, "Damn, his release is quick." Some of his teammates had gone one on one with Will before, and had warned him about his skills, but he didn't understand the extent of Will's talent until it was too late.
Now it was his turn to try and score. He tried to drive with his best move. He crossed over from his left to his right, then spun back to his left. Usually at worst he could shoot a fade away from here, but as he finished his spin he realized he no longer had the ball. Will was already waiting for him at the top of the key, calmly dribbling the ball, waiting for him to catch up. It didn't matter. Anthony closed in on him, respecting his range, but Will easily slipped by him and casually laid the ball in.
Soon the score was 10 to 0, and Anthony was shaken. Not only was Will beating him, but he had yet to score a single bucket. Will had barely broken a sweat. After his first two baskets, he had made nine lay ups in a row. Anthony just couldn't stay with him. What frustrated him the most was that unlike other games, Will was beating him solely by driving to the basket, and he wasn't dunking. Usually Will showed off his entire repertoire, but not today. Anthony wasn't good enough to show his entire game to, and now he knew it. A few minutes later, the dejected older boy walked off the court, his tail between his legs.
Will watched him leave with a blank expression on his face. He took no pleasure in beating a guy like Anthony. It never did anything for his ego, and always did horrible things to his opponent's. He knew the look of defeat well; he'd been seeing it since he was six years old.
Will was now eighteen, but he had been coming to the park since he could remember. The park wasn't much different from any other park in town. Will just happened to frequent this one because it was close to his house...and because it had a basketball court. Since he had been old enough to dribble a ball, he had spent his every spare moment playing ball. His happiest memories were of the times when his dad had brought him to the court to teach him how to play. Back then, the court was often deserted, giving them hours and hours to play horse or work on his skills. Will's father was never a basketball expert, or even much of a player, but he knew his son loved it more than anything in the world, so he came to love it as well. It was his way of being close with his son, and Will loved him for it. Will's room was covered in basketball posters and filled with his trophies and jerseys. If basketball were a food group, Will would eat it for every meal.
As much as Will loved the game, it always made him feel empty after playing. More than anything, he wished his father could see him play one more time. God, it still hurt every time he remembered he was gone. Basketball always reminded him of his father, which made him immensely happy and a little sad at the same time. It was a very bittersweet feeling, which often made Will a very melancholy young man. Often his mind would drift off and he would find himself wondering how long he had spaced out for.
This was one of those times. He found that he had no idea how long he had been shooting by himself. Much of the crowd had left, leaving a hand full of onlookers hoping for another glimpse of brilliance. Just then a voice brought him out of his reverie.
"Hey, you ever plan on missing one?"
It was Johnny, one of his teammates and closest friends. Will liked Johnny because he was always quick with a joke and a smile, but most importantly because he knew when to put his carefree attitude in check and be a true friend, someone who would stand by you during the tough times. Johnny knew Will well enough to know when he was thinking about his dad, and as long as he wasn't in too poor a condition the best thing to do was generally to make him laugh and forget about it.
Johnny knew exactly what Will was going to say before the words were uttered. It was a part of their ritual greeting when they met at the park.
"I don't know how to miss," he replied in a seemingly flat tone, but his face could not hide the fact he was glad to see his buddy.
"Yeah, well just watch me for a few minutes, it's amazing how much you might learn," he said with a chuckle. On the contrary, Johnny was a pretty descent player, but he knew that he wasn't really in Will's league. On the court, he thought of Will as Batman, and himself as Robin; a 6 ft 8 in shot-blocking Robin.
"Whatever. Maybe if I threw you a descent pass you'd score once in awhile."
"Nah, scoring isn't my job. Normally my job would be to rebound, but if you keep shooting like that Coach won't have any use for me at all."
That brought a laugh out of Will. His face was completely different when he would laugh and smile, so different that some people almost didn't recognize him when he did.
"No, you should know you're real job is to stand in the paint and look intimidating in case the other team decides to kick my skinny ass." In reality, Will wasn't all that skinny, but next to Johnny he looked like it.
"Spoken like a true point guard: sucking up all the glory and letting his center do the dirty work."
"That's a center's job, to do the dirty work."
"Only when you have a team with a lousy center like me and an all-state point guard like you."
"Someone has to do the dirty work, and if you don't then I won't be able to suck up all the glory, so I guess I better keep you around."
"For someone who sucks up all the glory, you never act like it. Any other person with your skills would be fucking half the cheerleaders every night of the week and twice on game days."
Johnny was right. Will never flaunted his talent the way other great players do. He was never arrogant, never made anyone think less of themselves. He never even talked trash on the court. Instead, he kept his mouth shut, his game face on, and dominated. He felt that not playing the game the way his father taught him to would be the same thing as disrespecting his father's memory, and that is something he would not do. All Johnny really wanted was for Will to live a little. He knew Will had never had a girlfriend, and he knew why. Will was never truly happy, not in his heart, because part of him had died with his father. The trouble with pure, unrestrained love was how it left a rift in its absence. Johnny understood this, and had spent their childhood trying to snap Will out of the gloomy mindscape he was often in.
"Why don't I fuck the rest of the cheerleaders while I'm at it?"
"Cause only half the cheerleaders are cute."
They both had a good laugh over that one and for a moment Will forgot all about his troubles.
"You are aware that you could have any one of them, aren't you?"
"If that's what I wanted..."
"Why don't you?"
"Because they only want me because I can ball."
