A couple of weeks had gone by and every day I expected to hear a knock at my door. After that scumbags last visit I had made up my mind that no more. Enough was enough. I wasn't some weak little bitch and this was going to stop. But that next knock never came.
I had deposited the check from that low life, scum bag and it cleared the bank. The asshole didn't cancel the check so I put the money to good use. Seems old Scott must've decided that having a mentally unstable, young, gay nineteen year old kid in his life wasn't something that he needed to risk.
Whatever his thinking was, I could care less. The only thing that mattered to me was that he hadn't come back. Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on Scott. After all I let him use me and degrade me. I was vulnerable and at the lowest point of my young life. So maybe I should give him a pass.
Yeah, no, never mind, fuck that piece of shit...
As time passed my mind became just a little clearer. Classes seemed easier and the universe actually gave me a helping hand. Leaving for class this morning I stopped by my little sandwich shop downstairs on my way out.
The sandwich shop opened at six in the morning every day except on Sunday. On Sundays Mr. Lewis, the shop owner, closed. Mr. Lewis wouldn't work on a Sunday being the good god fearing man that he was. Of course this meant that every Sunday we were on our own for basic things such as food and coffee. But that's on Sunday and I'm getting ahead of myself.
Every morning a local bakery delivered all kinds of pastries for them to sell. Plus they also sold quick grab and run breakfast stuff. Stuff like breakfast tacos, breakfast sandwiches and this delicious sausage inside a roll called a Kolache. What I really liked was that they served a really good strong coffee.
No expresso lattes, iced coffee or mochas here. At least not in 1977 in this Texas town.
On this wonderful day they had a HELP WANTED sign up. I asked about the job and was told to come back later in the afternoon. I did and the owner recognized me as being a faithful regular. Once he found out that I lived in the building things went along fairly quick. In one days' time he had spoken to the building manager and received nothing but good words about me. I was hired on the spot.
So now I had a job, no scumbag in sight and next two month's rent paid for. Life was allowing me to breathe. It was May now so classes were about to let out for the summer. I didn't want to just sit around and waste time during the summer so I signed up for summer classes. I also bought myself a ten speed bike. Remember those? C'mon who didn't have a ten speed back in the day, right?
I had classes in the morning and worked the late afternoons in the sandwich shop. Life was good. I was off on Saturday which meant I had the weekend off. Mr. Lewis the shop owner told me, "Any young man trying to better his life should have some time away from work." I wasn't going to argue with that. In fact I lived by that rule for as long as I was able.
Riding around on my ten speed one Saturday afternoon I found out about basketball pick-up games at the local park recreation center. Apparently every major park across town had a community rec-center. Inside that rec center the main section of it would be an indoor basketball court.
Now I was never a super athlete but growing up in a small farm town on the panhandle area of Texas you did have to play sports. If you lived in a small town in that time and didn't play sports people would automatically think that you were gay. Unless of course if you had some sort of disability. Then you would get a pass. I was very healthy and I couldn't have people thinking that I was gay. I mean, come on, really?
I sucked at football, I hated getting hit. I was always way back of the line to get into a football game. I was never a speed demon but again I couldn't have people thinking that I was gay so I participated in track.
But basketball, to this day I love basketball. That is my game. Being from a small town the level of competition in our area was not top level. On the few times that we did advance in the playoffs we would be kicked out after a two games.
But now I was living in a city where the local high schools played in the highest classification at the state level. So the local talent was something that I had never seen before.
That day as I made my entrance into the rec center gym I could see that I might not be able to compete here. There were some athletes out there of all sizes and colors. Again, small town meant low level competition. Plus it also meant zero black athletes in the small farm towns. So what I walked into that day was new to me.
The system for getting into a pick-up game is probably the same now as it was then. Pretty basic stuff, most of you who have ever played in a pick-up game know this already.
Five guys waiting to play the game get together and call next. Whoever lost the game being played would sit out and the team that called next would step in to play. First to score fifteen points wins, baskets only count as one point, not two.
No free throws after a foul you just got the ball at the top of the key. Oh and you did not call a foul unless blood was drawn. Because if you called a foul you better be bleeding or you were a pussy. Or worse you were a...
That's right, no blood and you call a foul means...you're a fag.
Getting into my first game the young man in charge of my team let us know that we would run. No dribbling up slow, it was run and gun. He had to be in charge because everyone agreed. Then just like that I was having the time of my life. What I lacked in athleticism I more than made up for in accuracy. Accuracy of both my passes and my shots.
This got me some quick respect and Tye's attention. The team leader.
I would find out in later months that Tye was two years older than me. But Tye and I were about the same height. We were both around 5'9", 5'10ish. I had grown a couple of inches since my days on the farm. What Tye had that I didn't have was this thing called, "hops." In other words, this kid could jump. I had never seen a live dunk in my life. But on this day I was in for a treat.