He steered the truck into his parking space and headed into the Athletic Center en route to the locker room, where Maurice
and the players were. But he decided to take a quick detour to his office, so that he could get on his knees and spend a moment
alone with the Lord. Curtis pulled the bottle of anointing oil Yvonne had given him as a gift out of his inside breast pocket
and poured a few drops in his hands. He touched the crown of his head and said, “In Jesus’s name,” and then started to pray.
“Father, cover me and this team with the blood of the Precious Lamb of God. Anoint us with the Holy Ghost and let us play
for You. Bless us by letting us play for Your glory. We need this win, Lord. Lot riding on this game tonight. Bless us with
victory, Father. Thank You, in Jesus’s name, amen.”
Curtis got up off his knees and went down to the locker room. The game was scheduled to begin in forty-five minutes. His phone
buzzed—Yvonne. Curtis smiled. That woman was a blessing sent to him straight from Heaven.
Why did he ever think that he could live without the companionship of a good woman? And things were so sweet and good between
the two of them that they were just happy and content to know each other, to share sweet kisses, to spend time with each other
and their families, to grow as friends, and to grow in the Lord. That was something he’d never had an opportunity to do—to
grow in friendship and a relationship with the Lord with a woman he cared about. It was a beautiful experience, and Curtis
Parker was a happy man.
He pressed his BlackBerry on and said, “What you know good, girl,” in a low and very sexy voice.
Yvonne laughed softly and said, “You, boy,” then told him, “We’re all here, center court.”
“Everybody?”
“Everybody. Well, Rico isn’t sitting with us but Marquita, her parents, and the kids are. Rico told Marquita that he wasn’t
coming to the game to protest on behalf of Kordell.” Yvonne paused a minute. “Umph, Rico has just strolled in with Kordell,
Castilleo, Dr. Redmond, Jethro Winters, and Gilead Jackson. So I guess the protest must be tabled until further notice.”
“Is Marquita okay?” Curtis asked.
“She okay, but she ain’t happy with how Rico is behaving, and neither are her folks. Daddy T was about to go over there and
go off on Rico but remembered why we are here. Oh, Paulo and Larry just walked in and joined them.”
“Are there any bats left in Hell?” Curtis asked Yvonne. “’Cause it seems to me like they are all sitting in the president’s
box. But then, if they are all here like that, they are worried. And that’s a good thing as far as I am concerned. Let me
go. I’ll see you after the game, baby.”
“Okay, Curtis,” Yvonne whispered so sweetly, he smiled at the phone.
“I’m gonna need some of that sweetness you sending through the phone after the game.”
Curtis turned the phone off and walked into the locker room. It was clear that they were waiting on him patiently so that
they could get the coach’s word and get on with the business at hand.
LeDarius, who was usually quiet, said, “Dang, Coach, you are crunked tonight!”
“Yeah, dawg,” Maurice said, “I’m scared of you.”
“So, you like,” Curtis answered and opened his coat. He knew he was sharp tonight. Mr. Booth had hooked him up with a sweet
red suede casual suit. Baggy pants, oversize jacket, black silk mock turtleneck, and some black Timberlands with red laces
and red trimming around the edge of the shoe.
He looked Maurice up and down and said, “But you know you are not shortchanging us, either, Coach.”
“Well, what can a winning coach say,” Maurice replied and gave his boss some dap.
“Mr. Booth?” Curtis asked.
“Nobody but.”
Maurice was sharp in buttery soft black leather pants, black leather blazer, and a red shirt with thick black stripes running
through it. He also had on some black Timberlands, only his were trimmed with black, gray, and red.
The team stood and joined hands. Curtis pulled out his oil but Maurice shook his head and said, “Your grandmother, Miss Queen
Esther, Miss Baby Doll, and dem have already made their rounds anointing the team.”
Curtis bowed his head and the team followed suit. He said, “Lord, thank You for bringing us to the point. And we thank You
for letting us win this game, in Jesus’s name, amen.”
“Amen,” they all echoed.
“Coach,” LeDarius said, “that was an awfully short prayer.”
“Did what I say touch your heart?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you believe God is going to answer this prayer and bless us with winning this game?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then that’s all that needs to be said. Let’s go.”
Curtis had told the coach of the cheerleading squad that he wanted the Junior Varsity cheerleaders to handle this game. The
last thing he wanted to see tonight was ShayeShaye Boswell flipping and twisting and getting on his nerves. And mercifully,
Christina Sprewell had done him a solid and honored his request. When they got to the entryway leading into the massive, state-of-the-art
gymnasium, the lighting crew turned off the main lights and switched on red lights for the team.
The cheerleaders were looking good tonight. Marquita’s daughter, Markayla, had outdone herself when she selected these outfits.
They were adorable in low-cut and baggy red shorts that were rolled up several inches above the knee, black leggings, black
tank tops with short red jackets that matched the pants, and red Chuck Taylor high-top sneakers. These were the best outfits
any member of Eva T.’s cheerleading squads had worn for a game in a long time.
The captain of the Junior Varsity team, Brittany Taylor, did an air split, came down on the floor, hopped up, and did a high-flying
flip. Each of the other six girls followed suit, and the crowd was up on their feet cheering and calling out, “Parker, Parker,
Parker,” with so much enthusiasm, Curtis, Maurice, and the team couldn’t wait to get out there, warm up, and get this party
started.
Brittany said, “Introducing the infallible, the infamous, the indescribable head coach of Evangeline T. Marshall University’s
mighty Fighting Panthers basketball team, Cooooaaacchhhhh Cuuuurrrrttttiiiissss Paaarrrrkkkkkeeeerrrrr!!!!”
Curtis jogged out into the red light and waved. He tried to find Yvonne but couldn’t see well in the light.
“Oooooh snap, big sis,” Rochelle said. “I’ve never seen red look like that on brown.
Dang
, Curtis!”
“You ain’t never lied,” Elaine, who had just taken her seat next to Mr. Tommy and Miss Hattie Lee, said. “He should win the
game just for wearing that red suit. Yvonne, how you gone keep your hands off of all of that?
DANG!
”
“Shhhh …” Trina said, “here comes Maurice.”
Maurice did a smooth jog out onto the floor, gave a peace sign to the crowd, and then took his place next to Curtis.
“Is my man wearing that black leather or not? Shoot, we might get us another baby tonight.”
“
MOM
!”
“Sorry, boys,” Trina said, trying to pull herself together for the sake of her two teenage sons.
But
, she thought,
I’m still getting myself a taste of that later tonight … umph, umph, umph.
“Coming from Hillside High School in Durham, North Carolina, is Number 12, Sherron Grey.”
Sherron ran out and heard his entire church cheering and calling out, “God is good,” as loudly as they could.
“All the way from St. Louis, Missouri’s Beaumont High School is Number 21, Kaylo Bailey.”
Kaylo ran out boxing at the air like he was getting ready to hop in the ring, and then gave Sherron some dap when he came
to stand by him.
“From Atlanta, Georgia’s Thurgood Marshall Lab School is Number 33, LeDarius Johnson.”
LeDarius was shy. He jogged out real fast, gave a quick wave, and stood next to his boys. He could have done without this.
All he wanted to do was play the game.
“Also from Hillside High School, Number 6, Earl Paxton Jr.”
Earl ran out and acted like he was dribbling. His father, Earl Paxton Sr., jumped up and said, “Yessss!!!! Y’all know what
time it is now.”
“And last but not least is Number 55, Mario Lincoln, all the way from Charleston, Mississippi’s Morgan Freeman High School.”
When the team was on court, they all knelt, locked hands, whispered a quiet victory prayer, and then broke hands with an “In
Jesus’s name.”
All of Jubilee Temple shouted out, “Hallelujah!!!”
“Those new uniforms, Yvonne?” Jeanette asked her daughter. Lately, when folks wanted the 411 on the team, they asked Yvonne,
figuring she was the second-best source for some info.
“Yeah. They are nice. Markayla worked with Metro over at Yeah Yeah to get them in on time for this game.”
“That Markayla is so talented, Marquita,” Jeanette said.
“Yeah, she is,” Marquita replied, trying not to look up at the president’s box where her husband was sitting. She could not
believe that Rico had thrown a full-blown temper tantrum in the car over Curtis and this game. She was glad the kids had decided
to ride with their great-grandparents. They did not need to hear all that, and especially before going to a basketball game.
The team looked good in black athletic suits trimmed in red and silver, with a panther on the back of the jacket that was
surrounded by red and then silver to make it more visible. The actual uniforms were almost identical to the suits, only the
panther was on the front instead of the back. They were some high-quality uniforms that Markayla had been able to order from
the same distributor who supplied many NBA teams.
The warm-up period had ended. Curtis and Sonny Todd shook hands and moved off the court. Sherron faced Bouclair’s forward
Jincintaye Lewis, and waited for the ref to throw the ball in the air. As soon as the buzzer went off, Sherron hopped in the
air and slapped that ball over to where Kaylo was waiting to make his move. Jincintaye wasn’t prepared for this new and improved
Sherron. He tried to knock him out of the way and fouled during the first few seconds of the game.
Sonny Todd wasn’t pressed, though. He had done some serious lining of referee pockets for this game. He tried to look miffed
while he waited for the ref to make the right call. Charles, Pierre, and Bay were practically sitting on the edge of their
seats, anticipating what Sonny Todd was going to do when he heard “FOUL.”
At first he stood perfectly still, as if his ears were playing tricks on him. Then it dawned on him that he had heard what
he thought he heard. In that moment Sonny Todd turned a deep red, snatched his coat off, and ran and chased the ref he’d paid
off. When the ref turned and said, “You can forfeit this game, you know,” he backed off and beat the floor with his coat.
The team went to the basket and Sherron prayed a quick prayer that he’d make this basket. Free throws were not his strength.
He lifted the ball up, relaxed his wrists the way Coach Fountain had shown him, and threw the ball right in the center of
the basket. It was a pretty shot. But not as pretty as the second one—which glided through the air as if it were being carried
by an angel.
The buzzer sounded again, the ref threw out the ball, LeDarius slipped up under one of Bouclair’s meanest players, Timmy Mays,
and stole that ball like it was nothing. Timmy Mays was so outdone, he didn’t even move when LeDarius ran down that court,
passed the ball to Kaylo, and watched that boy slam the ball in the basket to make another score.
By now Sonny Todd was pissed. He knew he had paid those refs off and couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was going
on. He glanced up at Sam Redmond and Gilead Jackson, who stood up and lifted their hands in the air as if to say, “What .
. . the …?”
The first half was moving at the speed of lightning, and the Panthers were spanking some serious Bouclair College tail. Even
though the actual halves are not that long, basketball minutes are really quite lengthy when being played out. And in this
brief yet lengthy expanse of time the Panthers had pushed their score up to twenty-eight against Bouclair’s pitiful two points.
Curtis and Maurice called out a time out. The team was moving so fast on the court, they were concerned about them wearing
themselves out. They gathered in a huddle and Curtis squatted down in the middle of them. He said in a low voice, “You all
all right? Y’all moving real fast out there.”
“We’re okay, Coach,” Kaylo said, not even out of breath.
The rest of the players nodded and looked anxious to get back in the game.
“Anything we need to do, Coach?” Sherron asked.
Curtis and Maurice just looked at each other and shook their heads. It was kind of funny. They had never come to a point where
the team didn’t need to hear a thing from them. This was a game like nothing they’d seen or played before.
The buzzer sounded and they went back on court. The ref threw the ball and this time Mario Lincoln leaped up, snatched it
in midair from Jincintaye, and ran just fast enough not to get called on traveling. He passed the ball to Earl, who tossed
it to Kaylo, who did a three-point shot from across the court that was so sweet, it brought tears to Curtis’s eyes. Maurice
sniffled. He looked up in the stands and saw Reverend Quincey, Reverend Flowers, and Reverend Cousin pulling out their handkerchiefs.
But Kaylo was not done with them. He leaped up and snatched that ball, dunked it in midair, stole it one more time, and dunked
it again. The crowd went crazy, and the band started playing Donald Lawrence’s gospel song: “Giants do die, the bigger they
are, the harder they fall.”
Kaylo backed off after the last shot and let his other teammates get them a little taste of this good stuff. He dribbled just
enough to entice Timmy his way, let Timmy take the ball, and then watched as LeDarius stole it so fast it took Timmy a second
to realize that the ball was gone. LeDarius made his way over to Mario, passed that ball, and watched as Mario passed it to
Earl, who made a sweet shot of his own.
By now Sonny Todd was losing his mind, and called out a time out. When the team got over to
their
huddle, he cussed them clean out, and then went on to say, “You dumb, gangbanging, low-SAT-scoring negroes better do this
right if you know what is good for you.”