St. Hildegards Basetball

"That's a wrap, everyone." Coach Cosmo, the promoter of the East Coast Senior Showcase. "You all showed these College coaches what you are made of, so give yourselves a round of applause."

We all give our half-hearted claps as we watch the college coaches and scouts pack up their stuff with stoic expressions.

"Now to announce our showcase MVP. Come on up, small forward, Josiah Lawson."

Oh shit, that's me. I had a good four days, but I did not think it was enough to win MVP. All of us are fighting for low major D1 scholarships, so the competition was tough. I dab up some of the friends I made here and take a picture with my small plaque. After that, we break out in a little huddle and go on with our lives. I put away my stuff on the bleachers and get a little jealous as some of the players are talking to the college coaches who stick around. Handshakes are made and a bunch of bright smiles on the player's faces tell me they at least got a half offer. Damn.

"Hey, man. I was really impressed with you out there. Showed a lot of coaches your talent," a tall, scruffy pale man approached me.

"Thanks, coach," it's always good to assume any old man here is a coach, so it's good to stroke their ego. "Surprised I got this MVP. At least something good came from it."

"No son, no surprises there. I do have one question for you, though."

"Yeah, Anything."

"What are your thoughts on gay people?" He said in a deadpan manner.

I looked up at him as if he was joking, but his face was earnest. I know many of these coaches ask weird questions to try and trip you up, but this was a new one.

I stumble for a second before I say, "Never had a problem. I just don't care to be honest." My mind secretly cups my mouth. I immediately regret my response. I was just caught off guard by the question.

"Well, good enough for me. I look forward to seeing your career, Josiah," He says as he shakes my hand and leaves.

That conversation filled my thoughts for the five-hour car drive home. I pondered how I could have answered that question better or if I should have had a follow-up question. Then my mind turned to the offers I already had. All were grant and aid options from four division two colleges in the East and South.

"How did the showcase go, Josiah?" My Dad says after he gives me a hug when I get home.

"I got MVP but no offers. Seemed like other players got offers or walk-on opportunities. I don't know, Dad. Maybe the D1 dream is over," I respond.

"Never say never, son. With this whole new transfer portal thing, D2 kids are getting more looks at D1 after one year. Maybe your route is going to be different than what we expected," My Dad says as I walk up the stairs and into my room.

We always had a plan since I was 13. I would play AAU the moment I could start. Played on teams that allowed me to stand out. Attend a prestigious Catholic school that was a basketball powerhouse. That was a big one for my parents who are devout Catholics. Win a state championship. Then top it off with a D1 scholarship. I achieved all that except for the last one.

I tried to tell myself that it was because my teammates overshadowed me. There was Moro Ali, the 6' 6" athletic freak of nature from Mali. Our high school coaches spotted him at one of the NBA Africa camps and gave him a grant to move to the US. Midway through his Junior season, he verbally committed to Duke University and the press came to watch him sign his letter of intent. Then there was Grant Hunt. The quickest white boy this side of the Mississippi they called him. He grew popular for what he did on the football field rather than the basketball court. He led our school to a state title as a running back. Three weeks later he lit Rucker Park on fire in NYC. He committed to Boston College for both football and basketball. Our team was stacked. As the third option on the court, I had little opportunity to impress.

I tried to make the most of it. Most scout's eyes could only focus on Moro and Grant. The ones who were digging for talent saw me. I was grateful for the offers, but I wanted that elusive dream. I kept waiting. And waiting. Until it was the week of signing day.

I started the day by coming downstairs and announcing to my parents, "I'll sign with Saint Rose, today."

My parents stood up with joy as they hugged me. It was weird. My basketball career moved on, but it was not what we wanted.

"Just show them your talent, and all the big schools will be calling your number," my mom said.

Then my phone rang.

"Hello, this is Josiah," I say to the unknown number.

"Great, it is you. This is Coach Williamson from the Showcase. We spoke briefly after the camp," he said.

"Yes, yes, Hi. What's up?"

"I know this is last minute. And maybe you committed to a school. But, I am the Head Coach at St. Hildegard's in Portland, Oregon. We are a new Division 1 school with this year being our first year of eligibility for the NCAA Tournament. How would you like to play D1 basketball? I can send you some information about our school. I apologize you will not get our entire recruitment treatment but, we are keen on signing you."

I put the phone down to my neck and whispered, "A D1 school," to my parents. My parents erupt in silence. They were more excited for this moment than all the other offers combined.

"Say Yes, Josiah, say yes," my mom mouthed.

I put the phone back up to my ear, "Yes would love to look at everything."

"Give me a call back by tomorrow night. Tell me what you think. I look forward to your call. I will talk to you later, son," He said.

"Thank you. I will do that," I say as he hangs up.

Second later I get a text from Coach. He sent a series of links.

"What is it? What school? Where?" my dad said over my shoulder.

My mom being the epitome of optimism said, "It was St. John's. I always knew they had their eye on you." St. Johns, the school in NYC was my mom's alma mater. She fell in love with my dad when he played against St. Johns at MSG. He scored a team high for his Georgetown Hoyas and my mom not so subtly stalked him after the game. Then they had me.

"No, mom. St. John's is not calling. A school called St. Hildegard's in Portland."

"Portland, Maine?" My mom asked befuddled.

"Oregon," I corrected matter of factly.

"Oh god, that is far," My mom said.

"But it is D1, Mary. Let's take a look," My dad said. He clicked the first link on my phone.

The link went to a promotional page from the school. The site was colored in white, gold, and purple. The top of the site had a video. We played it. I was so excited, that most of the video escaped me. But, there were two points I remembered. The first was when they said, "You'll explore your faith openly, develop your talents, and join a welcoming community that celebrates excellence." And the second one which was more poignant, "All-mens."

"It's an all-boys school, honey," My mom said shocked. "They still have those around?"

"Maybe it is one of those strict Catholic Schools? You know core Catholic values. No 'distractions'," My dad said.

Distractions. To be honest, one of the things I wanted from the D1 experience was to see all the hot girls on those campuses. The stories from the older players I played with were amazing over the years. The girls, the parties, and of course the girls. So the thought of an all-men college was a little worrying. But, girls are not the end-all-be-all.

The second link was focused on athletics. That is when it actually hit me that this was an all-boys school. All the people in the stands were male. Anytime a rare woman popped up on the screen, it was someone my mom's age. Sure my teammates would always gawk at my mom at our games and give me shit for how hot she was. Sorry, but I am not into hot moms, yet. This is not like the big-time schools where TV cameras pan to the hottest girl in the state and the old man commentator gets all pervy over her.

But unlike most low-major D1 schools, the crowds at both the football and basketball games were packed. The stadium and gyms were small but the atmosphere was raucous. This former unknown D2 school seemed like it had one of the best student sections. Watching the players make a big play and how the crowd reacted to them was special.

"I have not spotted a female in any of these videos," my dad said.

"Awww my hubby only has eyes for me. But, you missed like six of them, honey," My mom said as she kissed my dad on the cheek.

"I don't know, son. Is it really a college experience if you don't party with hot sorority girls?" my dad said turning to me.

"Yeah, nothing says college like horny frat guys creeping on you," my mom replied sarcastically.

"Says the woman who creeped on me," My dad deflected with his sarcasm.

"And you have never been happier," My mom said with a smile as she tried her best to sneak in a crotch grab but I always, unfortunately, catch them being weird.

The final link was only for me as the coach texted, "for your eyes only." It was a short testimonial from a past player. It was just a bunch of positive words about the school, the coaches, and the culture of the team. The last words stuck, "Keep an open mind and you will have the best four years of your life. The very best go to Kansas, Duke, and Kentucky. The happiest go to St. Hildegard's."

For some reason, that part hit home. This school is on the other side of the country. But if it is the one D1 school to take a chance on me then why not?

"St. Hildegard's," I say bluntly.

"Are you sure, baby?" My mom asked holding my shoulders.

"I believe so," I say.

"My son is going D1! I'm going to call my brothers. This is amazing." My dad celebrated.

I called back the coach.

"Did not expect a phone call back from you so soon." Coach Williamson said, "It has only been an hour and you decided?"

"I would like to commit to St. Hidlegard's," I said.

"Fantastic. But, I just want to let you know that there is no promise of playing time or NIL money. You will have to earn everything here just like everyone else. We do not have the luxury of going around and doing that."

"That's good. I don't mind competing," I try to say confidently.

"I love to hear that. That settles it then. We will send you a letter of intent and get you enrolled. Congratulations. You are now a Flying Sinner. We will see you for Summer Workouts," The coach said before he hung up.

Flying Sinners? That is one hell of a nickname for a college.

The next month flew by. We started packing and planning how to move across the US for college. After constant bickering and being stubborn about my things, we settled on just bringing two suitcases.

"Son, do you know how much free clothes you get as a college athlete? Trust me, by the time the season starts all you will be wearing is your Hildegard gear," My dad said.

"Yeah, and that lucky girl you will date will be wearing half of that. No need for shopping," my mom added.

"Mom, it is an all-boys college. The only girls I will be seeing are the old professors in their dusty dresses," I say. Just thinking about that is demotivating but, it is a sacrifice I am willing to take. It is like the stories my dad told me of his father and how he only saw dicks during Vietnam. And the first moment he saw a female since the war ended, his father produced him and his nine siblings.

"The college cannot be that deserted of girls. It's college, Josiah! I am sure downtown or some local community college will wet your tongue. D1 athlete, tall, handsome, you will be bringing home a girl to us by winter," My mom said rubbing my back.

I hoped so. It hit me hard when I received the St. Hildegard enrollment package in the mail a week before I was flying out. It was what I presumed was a regular package for any athlete. It had a couple of letters from students praising the school. There was some film on past Hildegard teams on the offense and defense. Then there was the class schedule.

Domestic Bliss 320 (Athletic Requirement).

The others were ordinary classes such as 100-level English, History, and Art. But Domestic Bliss? What, are they going to teach how to have a lovely home? I guess I will learn how to "live, laugh, love".

An hour later, I received an email from my Domestic Bliss professor.

From: Professor Charles Lovegood <

chlovegood@Sthildegard.edu

>

Good Morning, Afternoon, or Evening, to all of you future Flying Sinner Freshmen and Transfers. I will have the pleasure of being your Domestic Bliss 320 professor for the semester. To keep things short so you can continue enjoying your short summers, I just have to say if you have any questions or concerns please email me at the address in the header.

Also, please fill out this survey before our first class. This is a vital requirement for your future success in this class.

Best Regards,

Charles Lovegood, Class of 94.

Curiosity bit me and I opened the survey. The first couple of questions were simple. Just name, city of birth, height, weight, and sport. Then the second part got a little more personal. It was a long personality questionnaire that had me thinking about myself way too hard. The last part got really weird and personal. There was a short who is more attractive section of two different celebrities. Then it asked what personalities are we attracted to. Finally, it asked how we expect to treat our future partner. Listen, I am just 18. Marriage is way off my mind. I was more inclined to Google bars in the area rather than how to wife someone up.

The week flew by after that day. I did my last workouts with my basketball trainer and my dad. Like a lot of other freshmen, we had to earn our playing time in our first year. Only the best of the best were guaranteed their time like Moro who they say will be in contention to lead all freshmen in scoring next season. I just need to get my confidence up. My confidence in my ability to score and be a playmaker. What needed to be automatic was my three-point shot. After other conversations with Coach Williamson, he said that is why he recruited me. I have a good shooting foundation. I just need to get my confidence in knocking down those open shots.

I arrived at the airport early in the morning. Like I should be dreaming about Dragon Ball sleep. My mom was teary-eyed all drive and my dad held her hand the entire time. They gave me the whole "we believe in you and proud of you speech." It got my emotions going too. I gave both of them a hug.

My dad held me tight and said, "Hey, hey son. Look at you..."

I responded, "Look at me..."

"Look at me..."

"Look at you," My Dad and I repeat one after another. Our little tradition before my games to lighten the mood. As he always said, "You got my talent, Josiah, everything else you got from your mom. You may not know what will come in your journey but embrace all of it, son." One last hug and I pass the TSA line.

For a moment I forgot that Oregon was literally on the other side of the US. An 8 and a half hour flight. Fuck. There is only so much Netflix and music I can listen to. Luckily, Hildegard hooked me up and sat me on first class. The leg room was a plus and the flight attendants were hot. It was also a plus that the flight was so early that it was easy to fall asleep. The next thing I knew, one of the hot flight attendants shugged my shoulder to wake me up.

"Sir, sir, we have arrived. Welcome to Oregon. I see you are wearing a St. Hildegard's sweater. My son goes there. He loves it there." She said.

I thanked her, grabbed my things, and left the plane. As I descend the escalator, a guy no older than me, wearing a St. Hildergard's sweater with its crest in the middle held a sign with my name on it.

"Ummm, for me?" I ask a little bewildered.

"Of course, silly. Is your name, not Josiah Lawson, a Basketball player for our school?" He said his voice was a little peppy like a theater school student. He looked like one too. He was tall, had a thin build that had signs of work in the gym, and had a blonde short haircut that looked like it cost one hundred dollars.

"Yeah, that's me. They did not tell me someone was going to meet me here. I had an Uber ready."

"Nonsense. This is St. Hildegard's. We take care of all our athletes. Come on leave the Uber for someone else. It would probably take him hours to find our campus anyway." He said while snatching my luggage away from me and leading me out airport. Now I am going to say something that I have never said in my life. This guy is kinda cute. Okay not kinda, he is. I think a "no homo" or a "pause" is in order but damn. Just like how can a guy's butt look so nice in jeans. He must be a theatre major or something. He may be a good friend to make. Maybe he will be at the Oscars someday.

"I am Alex by the way. One of St. Hildegard's Freshman mentors and campus advocates. I can tell you anything about being a Flying Sinner," he said as he opened up the passenger seat door for me of his Tesla.

"I guess, most importantly, where are all the girls?" I said sort of jokingly.

"Oh dear," Alex said sliding into the car, "Did you not visit the campus here when you were recruited?"

"Ahh no. I was kind of a last-minute recruit. Signed here during the last week of the signing period."

"Well then. This is a new one for me." Alex said dismayed. "You see, there is no need for women at St. Hildegard's. Especially for athletes. We are a primarily gay campus." He said with a smile as he turned on the car and took off.

"Wait what? Like not even in the city or downtown?" I respond flustered.

"Dude, the campus is quite literally in the forest. We have a private response rescue station for people who try to get to our school on their first try. Even Google and Apple cannot figure out how to set a route to our school." He said proudly.

"So like everyone's gay? I muttered

"Not everyone," He exaggerated, "Most of the athletes are not gay per se, but the student body is."

"And all the athletes know this?"

"Know this? That is why they chose this school over others. You Josiah have a lot to learn. Come to Kappa party tonight and all of your worries will subside. It has been a long time since a red-blooded straight man unknowingly enrolled here. You are going to be fun." He said slapping my knee and then holding on for a little longer than I anticipated.

Like I initially told Coach Williamson. I have no ill feelings about gays or lgbt or whatever. But an entire campus? A part of me wanted to roll out of this car and get on the next plane home. But Alex settled me down. He asked about my home, playing basketball and such. It was an easy conversation besides the lingering problem holding on at the back of my mind.

Then he took the sharpest right turn of my life.

"What the fuck," I gasped as he Tokyo drift the car into the woods.

"Remember Josiah, a hard right turn at the only cherry oak tree and a slight left at the half-cut sign," he said a little too relaxed.

"Are we fucking going to Wakanda or some shit?" I fret as I hold onto the hand hook.

"Maybe for gay boys, we are," Alex said in a rush.

"I thought this was supposed to be a Catholic school?"

"Oh don't you worry, we practice a lot of faith at St. Hildegard's," Alex eased to an easy 40 mph. Then like a light at the end of a tunnel, St. Hildegard's came into view. The school was like being transported to the past. Old marble buildings were designed like ancient Greek or Roman buildings. Then we drove a little further and the buildings became more modern. Glass window buildings with green space on the roofs draping down.

"How is this place not more well known? This campus is amazing," I say with my face plastered to the window.