The Crossover
Authors: Kwame Alexander
At the End of Warm-Ups, My Brother Tries to Dunk
Mom doesn't like us eating out
The inside of Mom and Dad's bedroom closet
Dad Takes Us to Krispy Kreme and Tells Us His Favorite Story (Again)
I Missed Three Free Throws Tonight
Why We Only Ate Salad for Thanksgiving
I'm on Free Throw Number Twenty-Seven
This Is AlexisâMay I Please Speak to Jordan?
Phone Conversation (I Sub for JB)
Article #1 in the Daily News (December 14)
Text Messages from Mom, Part One
Tomorrow Is the Last Day of School Before Christmas Vacation
The doctor pats Jordan and me on the back and says
my·o·car·di·al in·farc·tion
Mom, since you asked, I'll tell you why I'm so angry
I don't think I'll ever get used to
As we're about to leave for the final game
Text Messages from Mom, Part Two
Article #2 in the Daily News (January 14)
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For Big Al and Barbara,
also known as Mom and Dad
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Copyright © 2014 by Kwame Alexander
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All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file.
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ISBN 978-0-544-10771-7
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eISBN 978-0-544-28959-8
v1.0314
At the top of the key, I'm
MOVING & GROOVING,
POPping and
ROCKING
â
Why you BUMPING?
Why you LOCKING?
Man, take this THUMPING.
Be careful though,
'cause now I'm CRUNKing
Criss
CROSSING
FLOSSING
flipping
and my dipping will leave you
S
   L
      I
         P
            P
               I
                  N
                     G
on the floor, while I
SWOOP
in
to the
finish
with a
fierce finger
roll . . .
Straight in the hole:
Swoooooooooooosh.
Â
is my name.
But
Filthy McNasty
is my claim to fame.
Folks call me that
'cause my game's acclaimed,
so downright dirty, it'll put you to shame.
My hair is long, my height's tall.
See, I'm the next Kevin Durant,
LeBron, and Chris Paul.
Â
Remember the greats,
my dad likes to gloat:
I balled with Magic and the Goat.
But tricks are for kids, I reply.
Don't need your pets
my game's so
fly.
Â
Mom says,
Your dad's old school,
like an ol' Chevette.
You're fresh and new,
like a red Corvette.
Your game so sweet, it's a crêpes suzette.
Each time you play
it's ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLL net.
Â
If anyone else called me
fresh
and
sweet,
I'd burn mad as a flame.
But I know she's only talking about my game.
See, when I play ball,
I'm on fire.
When I shoot,
I inspire.
The hoop's for sale,
and I'm the buyer.
I'm not that big on jazz music, but Dad is.
One day we were listening to a CD
of a musician named Horace Silver, and Dad says,
Â
Josh, this cat is the real deal.
Listen to that piano, fast and free,
Just like you and JB on the court.
Â
It's okay, I guess, Dad.
Okay? DID YOU SAY OKAY?
Boy, you better recognize
Â
greatness when you hear it.
Horace Silver is one of the hippest.
If you shoot half as good as he jamsâ
Â
Dad, no one says “hippest” anymore.
Well, they ought to, 'cause this cat
is so hip, when he sits down he's still standing,
he says.
Â
Real funny, Dad.
You know what, Josh?
What, Dad?
Â
I'm dedicating this next song to you.
What's the next song?
Only the best song,
the funkiest song
on Silver's
Paris Blues
album:
“FILTHY
McNASTY.”
I didn't like
the name
because so many kids
made fun of me
on the school bus,
at lunch, in the bathroom.
Even Mom had jokes.
Â
It fits you perfectly, Josh,
she said:
You never clean your closet, and
that bed of yours is always filled
with cookie crumbs and candy wrappers.
It's just plain nasty, son.
Â
But, as I got older
and started getting game,
the name took on a new meaning.
And even though I wasn't into
all that jazz,
every time I'd score,
rebound,
or steal a ball,
Dad would jump up
smiling and screamin',
That's my boy out there.
Keep it funky, Filthy!
Â
And that made me feel
real good
about my nickname.
is a MYTHical MANchild
Of rather
dubious distinction
Always AGITATING
COMBINATING
and
ELEVATING
                  his game
He      dribbles
fakes
then Â
takes
the ROCK to the
glass, fast,
and on
BLAST
But watch out when he shoots
or you'll get SCHOOLed
  FOOLed
UNCOOLed
'Cause when FILTHY gets hot
He has a
SLAMMERIFIC SHOT
It's
Dunkalicious CLASSY
Supersonic SASSY
and   D
O
W
N right
in your face
mc
NASTY
My twin brother is a baller.
The only thing he loves
more than basketball
is betting. If it's ninety degrees
outside and the sky is cloudless,
he will bet you
that it's going to rain.
It's annoying
and sometimes
funny.
Â
Jordan insists that everyone
call him
JB.
His favorite player is
Michael Jordan, but he
doesn't want people to think
he's sweating him.
Even though he is.
Â
Evidence:
He has one pair
of Air Jordan sneakers
for every month
of the year
including Air Jordan 1 Low
Barack Obama Limited Editions,
which he never wears.
Plus he has MJ sheets, pillowcases,