My Book

BUCKETS

By:TJ Barr

for poppop

CHAPTER ONE:

“What's the score?”

“3 up… check” says Scott, like he's gonna take him to town. Scott’s a regular who can’t seem to get away from the court, probably because there is nothing to do at home.

We're in Beaverton, Oregon… at a 24 Hour Fitness.

Sam’s legs are slower than his mind… at least since he played football. He’s physically fit, but he is used to lineman ball, where you get punished going to the hole. His style of play comes off as rough but he believes that should be standard at such establishments. A couple of dust-ups and barking but nothing that needed a doctor, luckily. Playing with attitude is necessary because one elbow calls for the need to separate players. He has enough style to look reputable, but if you go too fancy you look like a ‘Nancy.’ Some play to stay. Some play to have something to say. Some play to get healthy. Sam plays for pride.

Sam sits on the sidelines lacin’ his swooshes, looking up frequently to watch the ball pound the ground and way too many clanks. If there was someone in stripes, his whistle was in his car. No, this is jungle ball. Far from the CYO prayer crap that “we will be goooood sports no matter the score.” You don’t run you're done. PERIOD. 

11 points and you see a lot. Then all of a sudden in the next game, a squad gets a new free agent who happens to dunk. There's hero ball and there's the high schooler that thinks it's cool to play with airpods in. Sneaks and shorts, you bring a ball because the gym won’t facilitate quality for the balls that walk through the doors. Every 5 or 6 points you argue the score. Players pretend integrity. Call your own foul but next time you will go through the wall. Pads behind the hoop protect the splendor of Pick Up Basketball.

“Kid can bounce,” said Spence.

“Ya prolly AAU but you know how that goes… a really expensive show for a trophy case. These kids get more looks from facetime than a real scout.”

“Ya I know… but they dont.”

“Fuck I’m out of gum.” Without it Sam's brain bounces around more than the ball.

There's kinda a code. Put up or shut up. You make it, you earn it. Respect. They say:

'How do you get to Carnegie Hall?'

'Practice.'

Tell that to these guys who look like they learned how to hoop in prison.

Alright check the sheet and we got a couple of bad apples, a guy who is shaped like a pear, and Spence. Wonderful. Ball in.

In pick up, the value of the 3 is much more valuable than a 2… but realistically this equates to a 2 and a 1. Naismith (the creator of the game) wasn't a math major. But apparently, Steph Curry has enlightened the basketball world with inspiration! That translates to some brickhead that makes Sam have to get back on defense. Sigh.

He thinks, alright gimme the ball. He looks at the pear taking up space, kids make a V cut. No, Spence gimme a pick. Perfect roll, bounce pass, layup. We’re on the board. Let's go. Stop, fast break, bucket. Back and forth, the ball finds Sam on the block, fake, left spin and a backboard bucket. It’s like 7-8. Kid pulls up for a 3/2 and we're at 9. Turnover, fast break, bucket. 3/2 to seal it for another 'worthy adversary…'

“Fuck it, lets go lift.”

As Sam and Spence saunter past the ellipticals, they check the landscape. Solid representation. It’s 7:00 on a Tuesday in mid March. You recognize the post new years crowd and the semi-regulars. They make their way to one of the 4 bench presses. Put plates on each side. Crush 10 then do the patented arm swings trying to loosen up. Add tens pump out another 10. Set after set… the gym rats know the weights never seem to get lighter, but that's kind of the idea. Add 25’s for another push. One more set with another 10 weight, they both force 6 and call it good. Now… how to look good.

The duo hit the dumbbells, thinking that some of these guys can only count to 10.  They do 7’s. 7 first half of the curl, 7 of the second half of the curl, 7 full curls for a rep count of 21. Do 3 sets, enough to burn, and move on. 

You see some funny stuff at the gym. Some things that are like… “dude, why are you doing that???” Some people say, to each his own, but if you take a bench you better deserve it. Some guys write numbers, others just look silly in clothes with a thread count of eleven. Do your thing.

Sam and Spence hit tris and shoulders, skip abs cuz they suck, and finish in the sauna. 

The locker room could be compared to the Amazon. There's all these different animals. You got the old guys with their balls scraping the floor flamboyantly. Guys with hair on their chest but not hair on their head. A kid takin pics of himself in front of the mirror for instagram. And some foreign language, usually Spanish. That rounds out the representation of the lock and key. 

As they enter the arena of sweat, they are greeted by the succulent scent of burning wood, escaping the chlorine and Axe body spray, to complete another day at the gym.

They leave with the smile of the hot front desk employee who says the customary, “have a good night.”

They're thinkin ya… right.

CHAPTER TWO:

Sam gets home to his single bedroom apartment and says “whats up guys,” referring to his only companions… his goldfish, Magic and Larry. He can't tell them apart but assumes the two are friends. He feels like Rocky Balboa but with fewer jokes. He throws on the flatscreen and it is already set on NBA TV. He crashes the fridge filled with some of the basics, milk, and mustard. He grabs a Powerade and returns to the tube. He doesn't sit down because he's still sweaty, but catches a little of the top 10 plays of the day. When #4 rolls around he remarks to himself “that was sick.” Chugging the rest of his electrolytes he walks into his bathroom to go start the hot water. Undresses and throws the dirties in the hamper. His best piece of decoration is an acoustic guitar that he doesn't play. He grabs a beer from his mini fridge and proceeds to take his ‘Power Shower.’ He clicks play, cuz he still has a boom box, and listens to the sounds of Now That's What I Call Music #seventysomethin.

Now clean, he grabs the pretzels and another beer to click through channels. He still pays for cable and can never find anything worth it on his streaming services. Binge watching is exhausting. So he reverts back and forth to watching some of Ironman and Sportscenter. Clock hits 11:00 so he hits the hay after saying “Good night fellas.” He wears the same jordan shorts every night but picks out one of his many jerseys to rock to bed… tonight he goes with James Harden Brooklyn.

CHAPTER THREE:

His phone alarm goes off so he stretches and wipes his eyes. He showered the night before so he doesn't see the need. Starts the keurig and gets the eggs. He has a simple palette, so he usually makes an omelet loaded with meat and cheese, to get his day going. He has a laptop, mostly for porn, but checks the Google News report, ESPN, and Barstool Sports. He thinks it is important to be informed but finds that nothing really relates to him. Everywhere is business casual now, so he throws on a button up and khakis. Solid shoe collection highlighted with Nikes but for work he decides between blue or brown leather sneaks.

“Sup Spence.” Puts down his leather satchel and hangs his North Face, lightly drizzled, on the back of his office chair. Spence gives him a head nod as he finishes a follow up with a sale. Spence is reasonably handsome, he kinda has the Jim from The Office vibe but he's cool. He's got a girl, Sally, but they aren’t all that serious, just been dating. It's been somethin like 7 months. Like most guys it's not at the top of the conversation list.

Spence hangs up “glad I landed that.” Sam says “big commish?” and Spence just reports “bank… dude I’m so glad they are cycling cuties on Sportscenter, I can’t look at Linda Cohn any more. She's gotta hang it up.” 

“There will never be another Neil Everett.” Neil is an Oregon Duckhead Frat Bro who's got catchphrases like “hot corner” and regularly references his nephew Spencer, who must get A LOT of ass out of it.

Sam starts to check his email before his morning office meeting. He works at Sinclair Inc. which provides media channels through a variety of platforms. He is an account executive, and like Spence, he looks at the clock.

“Dude we doin Panera?” 

“Ya I guess.”

Carpool… Spence’s whip and it’s time to delete countless notifications from Sam’s phone.

“Selection Sunday next week don’t forget. The office pool gives out gift cards” says Spence. 

“Do you realize how much money in the world is left on unused gift cards? We're talking trillions. Let's put all that in a bucket and give it to Timbucktwo or something.” 

Spence chuckles.

“Is that a real place?” asks Sam.

“I don't know lemme google it… huh… it's more of a reference place but I guess there's one somewhere in Mali. Man I gotta do Molly again that stuff is heaven.” Molly is a pill of condensed ecstasy. 

Sam nods, he doesn't like too big of highs and lows. “Man its fucking Wednesday.” 

Spence says “Hump Day.” still scrolling his phone. 

“Ya weekend feels a ways away. Lets hit Redtail Saturday.” The local muni golf course. 

“Ya I'm down.” 

“Cool… let's get back, the boss has already talked to us about long lunches.” 

“Ya lets go.”

CHAPTER FOUR:

It's Thursday at 2:30 and both Sam and Spence have their earbuds in but they're throwing a nerf basketball back and forth. 

At about 4:00 Sam says, “Dude we hoopin tonight?”

“Cant… Sally is making dinner…..”

“Soooooooooooo how aree thiiiinngggs goooooiiiiiinnngggggg?” His hand under his chin batting his eyelashes.

Spence throws the ball at Sam a little harder. Sam makes a good catch, and utters ‘oooooooooooooo’ and throws it back to him. Spence smiles knowing he sounds like his mom. “Good I guess, just doin it.”

“You guys gonna make moves?”

“Ya, ya know we kinda talk about it.. Idk it's just serious right now.”

“I hear ya… lemme know if anything changes.”

“Happy hour Friday right?”

“Same time, same place,” says Sam, on what has become a routine.

Sam hits the gym solo. He always kind of liked working out by himself, he could put on a playlist and get in the zone. Most people if they forget their airpods they just go home. He's scoping the weight room floor. A 6 & a 7 doin that butt hump thing. Guy who thinks he's the hulk, doin the ‘tssssssss’ thing as he curls 50s. There's a couple of buddies doing leg press so he goes over for a fist bump.

“Sup fellas … how ya feelin?”

“Ugh its leg day so I wanna be somewhere else.”

“Ya I feel ya.. What would you do to make Luka a Blazer?”

“I would do unforgivable things” said one and kind of looks off into the distance thinking his world would be a better place.

“I would eat shit.” The other said straight faced.

We all crack up. “Alright keep pushin weight guys I'll see you later.”

There were 3 of them, which Sam never understood. Sam doesn't even wipe down his machine cuz he thinks it's futile and a waste of time. These guys have to wait upwards of 2 ½ minutes just to do a set. The gym needs to get Musk to be head of the Department of Gym Efficiency. Cell phones have destroyed physical fitness.

Then comes the ‘Gym Gem’ strolling down the aisle with her massive water jug. That big jug’s cousins are looking good today too. She’s got the yoga pants on, the fashion industry gift to men. Blue sports bra with the black slacks and cute, white, Nike trainers, Sam’s favorite outfit. She's the eye catcher but today Sam gets a look. And that secret smile. Sam thinks… ‘if she winks he'd have a hard time keepin his Rascal Flatt.’ No sauna, he’s gonna go catch the rest of the ‘Zers game.

CHAPTER FIVE: 

“Cheers”

“Clink”

“You gettin food?”

“Ya I’ll bite.”

They are sitting at a tall table eyeing a couple of TV Screens. It's just a Buffalo Wild Wings but Sam doesn't even like wings. It's more of the atmosphere than the overpriced crap that goes down the hatch. There's a couple of guys who splurged for the taller glass who seem to feel the need of a bigger buzz.

“Who's playing today?”

“I dont know. There's a bunch of college conference championship games.”

“Ya this week is like an overdose for gamblers.”

“Can you believe the Olympic team let Coop hoop with them?”

“What???”

“Yeah Lebron was talking him up and he was playing like AD and everybody for practice games.”

“No way. Cooper Flagg. From Duke. Is he legit?”

“Yeah. He's THE complete player. He can do it all.”

“You don't see that much anymore. You got these guys who just superstar somethin and put together 4 other ‘piece guys’ to win.”

“How was dinner?” asks Sam.

“O ya last night. Ya it was good. Spaghetti, bunch of wine. Bone and go home.”

“Sounds typical.”

“Ya nothin special. O ya, you gotta come out with us Saturday.”

“Alright, she bringin friends?”

“Yeah”

“Any of them cool?”

“No they suck.”

“Hot?”

“Eh”

“Wonderful… Where we goin?”

“Kells, downtown.”

“That's my heritage. I'm Irish and German so I was born to drink.” Sam finds family important, so he checks in with his brothers, and does Fantasy Football with his cousins.

“Yeah but you still drink like a pussy”

“Shut up”

“No”

“Alright here's your pretzel, can I get you anything else?” says the waitress.

“I'll do another beer,” says Sam.

“I'm good” says Spence.

“Alrighty I’ll be right back.”

“Gimme some of this” says Spence as he breaks off a piece of pretzel and dunks it in mustard.

“Mooch.”

“There ya go,” her name tag says Sandy.

“Thank you sweetheart.”

CHAPTER SIX:

Sam and Spence stroll through the doors of another familiar bar, Kells. It is so Irish you might trip on a 4-leaf-clover. Spence looks for Sally, Sam looks for prospects.

Sam is 5’11 190, with an athletic build. He always had game, but didnt know girls were into him until he was past his prime. With a background in sales and an ability to booze and schmooze, he naturally falls into conversation with the opposite sex. When he is in a relationship, he doesnt fuck with it, but on the prowl, he’s Tiger in the fairway. Nonetheless, he always liked hanging out with guys rather than laying the mack.

“There she is… Sally!!” says Sam with a big wave. The bar is full and she already has guys at her table.

She gets up for a little smooch and gives Sam a hug.

“Sally you're lookin good, who are your friends?” Sam said, eyeing up the guys, already ready to back his boy.

“This is Sean and… what was your name again?”

“People call me Shep.”

“Right, yeah they just bought us drinks. And this is Sheela, she’s one of my friends from work.”

“Nice to meet you,” says Sam, as she gives him that soft ‘I’m a lady’ shake. “Sally, I forget what you do...”

“O this and that,” as she forces a loud, fake, shrill laugh. 

Sam shouts “HA HA HA… that's funny” mocking her from the jump.

Reading the defense, Spence says “how was work honey.”

“Well we got off work early, so we headed over here for drinks and one thing led to another and… geez what time is it… been here for over an hour! Where does time go!?” says Sally, clearly already sauced. “Let’s do shots!” after the chumps exit.

Alright here we go, thinks Sam. He goes over to sit next to Sheela for a night of pointless small talk. He says “no really… what do you do?”

“Well she is a nurse and I mostly just draw blood,” she says looking around like she doesn't like the way that sounds.

Shame about a paycheck… she must be looking for a ‘Sugar Daddy.’ Sam immediately goes into a story about the last time he got a blood draw, and explains how he had to point out a good vein to bust that was practically throbbing. As he describes the experience, he takes her forearm and shows how she inserted and spun the needle trying to make it pop. One touch says it all.

She laughs and says “wow that’s NOT how you do it, I’m sorry you had to go through that” with a momentary touch on his leg.

He says “yeah she was probably a rookie.”

Aaaaaaand he's in. She's smiling, playing with her hair, and asking questions… clearly wrapped up in him and thinking if he has a condom. Baited and hooked, he continues stories about anything from his least favorite bug to an assessment of Harry Potter vs. Lord of the Rings. As he looks across the table, Spence and Sally aren't talking as she is clearly texting someone, and Sam is looking at a wall like it's a Van Gough.

Sam says, “have you ever done Voodoo?”

Sheela says “what?? No!”

“You've never had Voodoo Donuts… they're famous!”

“O ya” another suggestive laugh “once or twice but I’d be down to do it again!”

Trying to pull the other couple out of a bunker, Sam announces, “Let’s go hit Voodoo, I'm hungry!”

Sally comes back to reality and says “awww you just got here, look around!”

Sam says “alright let's do one more shot and then hit the streets, it's actually not raining for once.”

As they walk 2 blocks to the Donut Shop, they carefully avoid the gaze and pan handles of the homeless. (If we employed the homeless with gift cards for doing a litter sweep, it would clean up our streets, and probably their lives. Even if you gave them options, like ‘wow quiznos sounds good’ or ‘I need to get more peanut butter so $20 at Albertsons helps me get through the week.’ They would have food. They could save. And the streets would be prettier and safer. Let’s get a government agency on that Donnie.)

Seeing a line out the door, Sally says, “No way am I waiting for a bacon maple bar…”

Sheela says, “yeah I do not need to eat donuts” with an awkward laugh as she glances at Sam.

“Alright, Loyal Legion is probably cool, let's Uber over there,” says Spence, somehow trying to salvage a clearly difficult night.

The Uber driver says “Spencer?”

They all say “Yep.” Spence gets in the front seat, and seems to be avoiding Sally.

Meanwhile, Sheela is particularly physical. When they get out of the Uber, with Sam’s hands in his pockets, she reaches to take his arm, as they walk into the bar. They get in and take a booth and Sam purposefully focuses on the TV’s, catching up on the sports happenings of the day. He tries to draw Spence back into the game by talking about some game or player or anything, as he is just going through the motions. On the other hand, Sheela has taken a deliberate interest in Sam. He keeps his response short, to the point, maybe a little cold, because he is more concerned about his buddy than this bird.

Sam finally says, “allrrighhht I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

Sheela says “ya me too, I’m beat. Let’s get out of here… Sam, where do you live?”

He says, “way out in Beaverton, by Sunset High School.”

She says “O, is it nice over there?”

He says in an effort to break the press “yeah, kinda suburbia but it's ok. St. Cecilia is close by, I actually teach Sunday School.” Bullshit.

“O really that's so great, as she strokes his arm”

“Ya I gotta get up early, it ruins my Saturday nights, but ya know, I just can’t get enough of the Jesus juice. Lemme get your number and we’ll do something.” Bullshit.

“Yeah!” She puts her number into his phone, goes in for a hug, and whispers “call me.” Sam smiles and pockets the iphone. He looks at Spence and Sally is still on her phone. “What are you two up to?”

Sally says, “yeah we're goin back to his place. We had fun though let's do it again sometime.” Spence kinda shrugs “yeah..” 

“Alright man, I’ll see you on Monday. Take care of him Sally,” as he comes in for the bro hug.

Finally looking up from her phone, “o you know I will” with a weird suggestive attitude.

“Cool… alright good night Sheela.”

“Good night Sam.”

And he is off to the races. If he was to bet on the night, he would have pushed Spence.

CHAPTER SEVEN:

No alarm. Just whenever Sam opens his eyes, it is time to get up. It’s only 10:30, so he puts on his sweats and drinks a big glass of water. Not hungover, but a little sluggish. It’s gonna be a slow morning. He lives close to some food carts, so he heads over to get a coffee and breakfast burrito. He brings it back home to check the Sunday games as he eats eggs, hashbrown, sausage, with the cheese now melted inside the tortilla. He loves that shit. Sam only has a couple philosophies but one of them is melted cheese is good on anything. They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but it is for sure his favorite. But Wheaties never won over his stomach.

Scrolling his phone, he's not texting Sheela, she seemed smitten, but it's a booty call when he needs it. He goes about his day. He vacuumed and finished a Sports Illustrated. At about 5:30 he goes to get ready for more hoops, this time the church league at the St. Cecilia gym. He’s been playing there for years and what they lack in skill, they make up for in competence, something tragically lacking at 24 Hour Fitness. As an alumni, playing with the Cyclones always felt like a good place to be.

2 solid wins. After a loss, he missed his free throw to be on the next squad so he has to sit. Another game and he's drenched and tired. But now is the real purpose, crossing the street to go to the chapel. The password that keeps the bums out is ‘ROCK’ followed by the * button. It's not the gathering that you see at 9 AM mass, but they try to have someone present at all hours. 

Sam mostly just sits there, and gathers his thoughts. He talks a little in his head, about this and that. Typical prayer stuff and things going on in his life and all that's going on out there. He feels God present in his life, he sees him in other people, and he sees his magnificence all around him. He appreciates this time, because he has a special relationship with God, just like everybody, and he doesn't need to do the stand up, sit down, turn around shit to be close to his spirit. Closes it up with an ‘Our Father.’

After his Sunday reset, he gets into his 2017 Ford Explorer Sport… with a custom license plate QUE-UP. A little about traffic, a little about questioning God, and a little ‘What Up’ to start a conversation. He thought it was clever, but people try and get a dream car instead of a perfect car. When can you ever drive over 90 miles an hour? Why would you need a car that can do that? He named his car Lola after the bunny in Space Jam, but she speaks to him and gets Sam where he needs to be. Home.

Following tradition, which is big in Sam’s family, he calls his mom on his way home.

“Hey maaaaaam,” trying to channel his inner Eric Cartman, from South Park. A joke he knows she does not get.

“Hey honey how's it goin,” with Sam already gearing up for the overbearing amount of questions and the blasting of advice he endures every week.

“Good… chuggin along. How are you?”

“Good watching MSNBC.” They really only need one channel.

“Another Trump catastrophe?” Her favorite team is Democrat.

“They are pure evil!” She has no idea of the evil in the world.

“Alright, just got home… give everyone my best and I’ll talk to you later!”

“Yeah, come home soon, we'd love to see you!”

“Alright mom, sounds good!”

“OK I LOVE YOU!!!”

“Love you too mom, good night.”

Sam doesn't talk to dad much.

CHAPTER SEVEN: 

“BALL NIGHT!!!” says Sam, referencing his favorite shows, Around the Horn and Pardon the Interruption.

“Yeah, Sixers, but they are doin load management,” said Spence.

“They call themselves professionals. What if we said we’ll work, but just not back to backs?”

“You never faked a sick day in  school?”

“I needed to catch up on Jerry Springer,” Sam said with a chuckle, “let's bring beads tonight just to see what happens.”  

Spence smiles, “so catch the MAX at 6 right? Beer at Dr. Jacks. Lets be on time this time ya?”

“Yeah, meet at Millikin Station by Nike.”

“Yep. Now let's pretend to be productive.” Sam smiles.

Sam gets out of Lola and grabs a beer from the trunk. He goes over to the corner of the car park, whips out his modest hotdog, and takes a satisfying piss. He’s wearing his Blazer swirl T shirt covered by a Northface rain jacket just because in the Northwest you never really know what ‘The Big Guy’ has in mind. He sees Spence crossing the parking lot, so he finishes his Rainier brew and tosses it by the trash can. In Oregon you can go to a recycling center and deposit cans for 5 cents, consistent employment for the homeless and the thrifty. Spence is on his phone as he walks over to Sam, “alright love you, bye,” hits a button, “you got another one of those?” 

“Yeah, let's have a shotgun.”

Sam gets two more of the local beer, and gets out his keychain that has a special attachment for cracking beers. Sam says “cheers.” Spence says “go ‘zers.” Sam finishes first, but this time it's not a competition, it's an ode to the night ahead to get the ball rolling. With a big burp, they head over to the station. As they walk over Sam breaks out his pack of Marlboro menthol cigarettes. Spence says “trying to die?” Sam says, “sometimes.” Sam tries to be a social smoker but it has expanded into more of a consistent way to stay stable. 

Spence buys a ticket from the machine, even though there is no metric to stop freeloaders. Sam says “I’m gonna risk it” referring to a free ride. “Up at Husky games, if you have a game ticket you can ride for free.” Spence says, “ya because UDUB is its own charity case.” Sam was born and raised a Washington Husky fan but did a year at University of Oregon before deciding it was not worth it. A decision he thinks about sometimes. With a foot in both ponds, he tells people he is a Husky fan, and roots for the Ducks. It makes sense to him but some people don’t understand and are blinded by the heated rivalry.

The two get on the light rail, populated by about a dozen Blazer fans, some lower income riders, a weird goth, and a guy with a bike. No bums bumming this time. 

They get to the bar named after the coaching legend Dr. Jack Ramsey, and get an overpriced marketed Blazer beer. Spence says “it was still a good investment…”

“What do you mean”

“The partial ticket package.” For $350 they get 20 games. 

“O for sure, even though we suck. We pay to see the other team.” He takes a big swig.

“If we're not careful we might make the playoffs.” Spence takes a big one. They know they have to be efficient to get in for tip off.

“Yeah, we need a lottery pick.”

“We know what happened last time.” In 2007, the Portland Trail Blazers got the #1 pick with only a 5.3% chance of a franchise changer. The consensus was to choose between Greg Oden and Kevin Durrant. Greg got hurt and Durrant turned into a hall of famer.

“If you were going to ask me who was gonna get hurt between that stallworth and that toothpick I would have thought the Sonics would need to hire a fulltime ambulance.” Sam says with a flavor more bitter than his beer.

“I don't wanna talk about it. Let's go.” The two chug and they enter the Moda Center, but true fans still call it the Rose Garden. They get to their seats and Sam puts his feet on the chairs in front of them and Spence brings out his phone. The two stand for the national anthem in a sparsely attended stadium, and yell out a cheer. Sam says “alright boys, lets go.”

CHAPTER EIGHT:

Spence has been noticeably absent both mentally and physically. Over the past week he hasn’t been to the gym and didn’t even know that Joel Embiid got shut down for the season. He doesn’t silence his iphone, so Sam hears him tapping for long periods of time followed by that sigh when you vibrate your lips.

“Those girls at the game were kinda cool,” said Sam.

“Yeah.”

“I don't know why more girls don’t just approach guys. It’s like they get in their circle and wait for lightning to strike.”

“Yeah.”

“What's up man, you're making it rain.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Another ping and he’s analyzing another essay that clearly has a thesis and topic sentences.

CHAPTER NINE: 

It’s Sunday and there's NBA games all day. At 3:21 Sam's phone buzzes.

“Hey can I come over?”

“Ya man.”

Spence lives 5 minutes away, a little closer to Nike, but he’s a regular in Sam’s dominion because he has a better TV set up. 

Spence does the knock and walk in and Sam doesn’t even get up. “Yo.”

“Whadduppp.”

Spence goes straight to the mini fridge and cracks a Sierra Nevada pale ale. Sam thinks to himself ‘help yourself’ but remains silent. The beer scorecard is pretty much even, but Sam usually puts up for more pints.

“Whose playing?” he says with a big swig.

“Lakers-Cavs, it's the game of the day” as Sam turns up the volume to fill some of the silence.

“Cool.” 

Another ping, and Spence reads the text and just tosses his phone on the coffee table.

“What's goin on??” Sam says with interest but not a tone of panic or concern. Guys do care, but it's more important to provide a nuance of ‘whatever’ when discussing the impending shitty situation.

“Sucks man.”

“You do something dumb?”

With a little laugh, Spence says, “I know that's my reputation but not really this time. Just kinda turbulence.”

“Is it gonna work out?”

“IIIIIIII donnnntttttt kknnnnooowwww,” he says as he massages his face, clearly stressed.

“Do you want it to?”

“Yeah, ya know … it's just annoying.”

There's a little silence as they stare at the screen.

Spence finally pipes up, “I'm hot right?”

Sam does an awkward chuckle, “uhh ya man… you look like Bugs Bunny fucked Daffy Duck.”

They both laugh.

“You think I could do better than Sally?”

“Yeah, at some point. But you kinda gotta decide if you wanna hitch your wagon.”

“Yeah…”

“I don’t know the whole move in thing would have been a step” Sam says because in these kinds of scenarios he knows you replay a lot of moments and think about what you coulda done better.

“Yeah…”

The Lakers win, Luka had 33, win by 7. “Ugggghhhh good game, I’m goin to play St. C’s you wanna come?”

“Naw not today.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I dunno… can I have another beer?”

“Sure.”

CHAPTER TEN: 

“Dude we get to see Wemby!!!!” referring to the generational player, Victor Wembanyama, towering at 7 '3”, scales at 235, and plays like a guard.

“For the sake of the God-Given anatomical anomalies… please do not take him from my life….. PLEASSSSEEEE!!!,” Spence says with a reverent tone, hands crossed, pleading to the man upstairs.

“Get a bible man.”

“The league needs this. There is gonna be a huge transition from this Lebron/Steph era and the NBA needs to take this head on.”

Still arranging things on his desk, Sam says “the league has gotta market better. Were seeing stellar seasons in OKC and Cleveland and were not talking about it. We're all still stuck on Luka and Jimmy Butler.”

“Yeah but the 2 biggest franchises got their token for the next 10 years.”

“Dude we're gonna see a freak tonight. I feel like I should throw peanuts at him like we're at a circus looking at the bearded lady.”

Spence’s a little more excited, “would you fuck a bearded lady?”

“Yeah… but only if she let me cum on her face.”

“I can only imagine. Like these days … you can’t afford a kid, so you gotta put it somewhere. Condoms suck but if she has tits I might ask. I don't know it'd have to be that kind of girl.” Spence sounds like he’s seeing flowers in life's pasture. Sam just smiles. Sam never got the whole raunchy, salesman banter about who someone banged last night. He’s glad he can shoot the shit without feeling like a degenerate dick.

“Alright, you know the drill” says Sam.

“Yeah… and let's go make some friends too. Our relationship is getting a little too close” he says with a smile.

“As long as I don't give you a hard-on.”

“Does the office filter ‘Only Fans’?” says Spence, referring to the porn website where any girl can make their own account.

Hard to describe the noise Sam made but it sounded like “ttssskkkkchh.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

It’s Wednesday, and after another long day of work, Sam is fried, so he hits the gym to work out some angst. He is doing well at Sinclair, but there's not a lot of pay, upside, or future so he's kinda just doing it.

He parks Lola, and the lot is pretty full. He walks through the doors and the hot girl at the desk says “Welcome In!” As he pulls out his phone for the member beep, he gives her a wink, and she hollers “have a good workout!!!” as he walks away. Sam is in a good place. Decent money, hobbies, interests, and a roof over his head. He is generally a good dude and he still has high school friends he keeps in contact with, mostly through a group chat. He feels good, his frame has taken shape, and his game is productive.

As he turns the corner to cruise past the gym, he sees the gem, and as they walk by he makes eye contact and gives a subtle “hey” she looks and smiles and gives a “heyyy” with a little emphasis point on the end. She continues over to the ellipticals and Sam does a turn to see the booty… plump, firm, packin… to himself he just mutters “skkeeeewwwwww.” As he goes to the locker room, he's contemplating going for it.

He comes through the gym to start his abs. If he doesnt start with abs he doesn't do them. He heads over and puts the decline machine to the highest level. Another life mantra is “if you're gonna go do it, do it big.” 25, twists, 25, twists, 25, twists, 25 for a count of 100 and some side to side without throwing out his back. He has a strong core but the consequences of earlier lifestyles doesn’t exactly reflect it. Some tone, but it would be considered the ‘fat man six pack’.

He goes over to the bench, warms up with 25 25’s and starts to move to the 45 plates. And guessssss who comes over to the bench next to him. Now he gets to see what she can do. SHE starts with 25s, a lot of weight for most girls at the gym. Sam pumps 10 making as much noise as possible. Adds ten, she adds the 35’s! He’s lookin over to make sure she can rack it… and she does. Sam is thinking ‘wow,’ but there is no way. He puts on the next 25 on his bench, and she is doing the arm swing to warm up, and she puts on 45’s! This is unprecedented at this gym or anywhere else from a woman other than at muscle beach. Feeling the adrenaline to try and show off, Sam gets to nine before he has to put it back.

He looks back to his right and sees her checking her phone. He strides over, right in front of her because she has airpods in her ears. She looks up, and takes one out, and says “heyyy.” Sam’s heart is pumpin. “Ya.. that's a lot of weight just seein if you want a spot?” She says “um… yeah… lets see how many I can do.” 

Sam takes the spot behind the bench and asks “do you want help off?” and she says “ya thanks.” She gets through two pretty easy and Sam is thinking who is this girl. He says “lets goooo” and she cracks half a smile trying not to lose concentration. 3 and 4 have some struggle but not enough for him to touch the bar. Sam says “alright one more, push.” She gets it up and says “alright one more.” Sam thinks where did this girl come from, she's gotta be related to Schwarzanegger. “Let's do it, I got you!” He puts his hands in a position to catch if she can't complete the lift, but he could see it in her face, she's gonna put it up. They rack it. “Nice, where'd you learn to do that?” She says “ya my dad had a gym in his garage so that's where we kinda hung out.” 

“Well he taught you well,” realizing he just used the same word twice in two different ways.

“Ya he was a stud.”

“Well after that you need to replenish and protein,” Jesus man she's gonna think you have a stutter.  “You wanna get Chipotle after this?”

She says “um yaaa,” with a head cock and a smile “girls gotta eat.”

Sam says, “you know some girls seem to think they don't, and that bothers me.”

She says “yeah me too..” a little intrigued by a real man’s perspective on women's health habits.

“What's your name”

“I’m Sarah” with a smile. 

“I’m Sam, what time do you usually get out of here?”

“Um, I got like 4 more lifts so … like 40 mins.”

“Cool, let's try and meet at like 7 but no rush, do your thing, I’ll be over there.”

“Ya me too, looking forward to it.”

Sam feels weight off his shoulders and like he can curl any dumbbell in the gym.

CHAPTER TWELVE: 

Sam parks and walks in Chipotle and she's already there and ordered.

“Hey whatdya get?”

“Burrito bowl with steak,” she says with a smile.

“Alright let me look over the menu, I have no idea what they serve here.” She lets out a little laugh but has to cover her mouth. She has etiquette but can’t hide a tell that she thinks he's funny already.

Sam gets in a line of 3 people in front of him. He already knows, he gets the same thing every time. Chicken burrito, white rice, mild salsa, lots of cheese and a little bit of lettuce, He’s never ordered anything different.

He brings it over to their two person table, “I got chips and guac too, you can have as much as you want.” 

“Thank you, I hope they don't raise the price of avocados.” She's informed too about the tariffs on Mexico.

“I don't know why, but I swear, this place has the best Coke… like extra syrup or something.”

“Ya I know, but you can't get Mr. Pibb anywhere, so I always go with that.”

“I see you at 24 a lot, are you workin on anything special?”

“Well in today’s society today you're supposed to do the butt lifts, but mostly just staying healthy, and I think exercise helps mentally too.”

“Yeah I do a little of everything, but I hate running. I have nothing to think about but how I'm out of breath. And I hate being out of breath.”

“Yeah good point, but I see you playing basketball a lot.”

“Yeah I like to hoop, it's competitive, and aerobic, and I’ve played sports my whole life so it's nice to scratch that itch.”

“I could see that. I played basketball in High School, I was ok, but not good enough to run with you guys.” Point to Sarah.

“O there's some hacks that come through but I have yet to see a girl play.”

“Yeah, that's kind of Kenland,” she says with a laugh.

“You saw Barbie?”

“Yeah, did you?”

“Yeah… I took my mom on opening day.”

“Awww that's sweet!”

“Yeah it was a strange experience for me. I didn't laugh, I didn't cry, I just thought about societal impact on young women. And I wasn't expecting that.”

“Yeah it was kind of a revolutionary introspection thing.”

Sam’s phone was on the table and it vibrated. He just picks it up to glance at it. Sarah says “who's that?” 

“Just a sports score,” says Sam, “Blazers won.”

“I haven't been to a game in ages, how are they doing?” Point Sarah.

“Sheesh. Total rebuild but they got some pieces. They're interesting because they are never going to field an all star caliber team so they have to have good role players to contribute to get wins. It’s like a conundrum wrapped in a Rubiks cube.”

“The last thing I really remember was when we got Greg Oden and he got hurt or something??”

Sigh… “that's a sore spot for me.”

“O I’m sorry! We don't have to bring that up” Point Sarah.

“No, our potential was outrageous. With pieces like Oden, Lamarcus Aldridge and Brandon Roy and some complimentary……………… we coulda been great. And us Blazer fans have to live with ‘what if’. It eats you up.”

“Ya but every team goes through that at some point.” She’s killin it.

“Are you a fan?”

“My dad and I would watch the niners.”

“Montana, Steve Young, Jerry Rice… you've at least tasted success.”

“Ya, he has a framed Joe Montana jersey.”

Sam's heart is thumpin’ but just says, “That's cool.”

Sam looks down and realizes that he has inhaled his burrito. Good thing there's chips. Sarah has had a couple, but Sam asks “you mind if i finish these” hoping the conversation leads to more points for Sarah.

“Yeah, absolutely, you paid for them!”

“So me and my buddy got a partial ticket package to a bunch of games, we got a couple more this season, would you wanna go?”

“Yeah!!! Ugh… it's been forever. Let’s do it.”

“Alright let me get your number and we’ll work something out.”

Sam hands her his phone. She starts to type and then there's a ping.

She says, “someone named Spence said, ‘we broke up’, is that the guy you work out with?”

Sam just says “shit.”

Sam takes his phone back. Sigh. “I gotta go figure out how to handle this.”

“You guys close?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

She sits in an uncomfortable situation but knows how it goes, and understands Sam’s impact on the situation.

“So let's go, and I’ll take care of this. But I still want your number.”

“Yeah! Of course!!!

She puts it in. The two walk out and Sam holds the door open, “Where are you parked?” 

“Just over there.”

 “I'll walk you over.” 

“Isn't Chipotle great?” Sarah says.

“I FUCKING LOVE CHIPOTLE!”

“Who doesn't… so much better than Qdoba”

“Agreed.”

“So I'll see you at the gym, and let me know about that Zers game. I'm excited.”

“Yeah when I see you at the gym I’ll come say hey.”

“You better.”

One arm side hug and they go their separate ways. Sam is thinking ‘Who was That.’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

Sam gets in Lola and starts up sports talk radio. Takes out his phone to try and probe to find out what happened. After a couple of texts, it is pretty clear that it is hard to say.

Two days later… “sticks?” texts Sam.

“Yeah at 7.”

“Cool, I'll get pizza.”

As Godfathers sits on the bar style counter of his kitchen, Sam starts to contemplate the conversation. He knows he has to keep it realistic, yet sincere, but at the end of the day it's gotta be an end. Everybody knows this isn’t it.

Spence walks in, “Yo.”

“Ya, beer in the fridge, pizza on the counter, let me set this shit up.” Sam starts clicking buttons to get 2K NBA Basketball ready.

“How was your day?” says Sam.

“More of the same” says Spence.

“You got lucky?”

Spence kind of laughs, “a day in the life.”

Sam says “who you gonna be?” as Spence grabs two slices and another beer and sits in on the couch next to the recliner.

“I don't know… is the Lakers fair?”

“I wanna see them play Golden State so let's give that a go”

After teams, jerseys, and lineups are set, they are getting ready to play.

“How ya doin?” says Sam.

“Crushed.” 

After a quick silence, Sam bridges the gap, “Just don’t dunk on me”

“You can’t stop me, or LeBron”

“Bring it! Draymond is dying for a T”

Spence starts to smile. The tip goes up. “I bet you a beer on this game.”

Sam says, “it's on me man.” Spence smiles again.

After a couple games of smack talk, Sam says “hey so, how's it goin?”

“I don’t know, I kind of feel empty without her there.”

“There's a lot more beer in the fridge…” Sam says with a coy smile.

“Ya I know, thanks man.”

They go a couple more games, back and forth between teams who could be contenders this year. The video game updates regularly regarding trades and contracts and injuries so it makes it as realistic as it can. There are so many elements that the art of arcade PAC-MAN has changed into a system of algorithms that can foresee even the most outlandish scenarios. Nonetheless, the situation between Spence and Sally cannot be overlooked.

“You talk to her?”

“I mean… there's not a lot to say. There's no kids, there's no stuff. It’s kind of cut and dry.”

“Well, hey, I’d say that's fortunate.”

“Ya I guess…” says Spence, “but it's more about being there.”

“I feel ya man.” Sam is a little hesitant, so he goes to get another beer. He takes one, cracks it, and tosses another one to Spence.

“He cracks it”, and says “Thanks Sam.”

CHAPTER TWELVE:

“Hoops tonight.” Sam says emphatically as he enters the office. Spence has always been punctual, but this time Sam enters the office in a kind of an aura of doubt and dissolution that seems to surround Spence.

“Ya I could go.”

“Of course you’re going, we have a reputation to protect. The Bad Boys of 24!”

“Ya?” he says, breaking his train of thought, “who are you?”

“Clearly Bill Laimbeer, I gotta protect you. You be John Salley. You gotta make the game a game.”

As they enter 24 Hour Fitness, they put their name on the sheet. They are playing with Scott today, a good competitor, who will contribute in many ways, but also knows how the game is played. Scott knows players, defense, spacing, and will help the team. They get together with two other high school kids who have clearly been on a team. With this 5, they could run multiple games. However, Spence is noticeably despondent.

He throws up a 3 for a not even close air ball and another possession leads to an unforgivable turnover. Whatever. ‘Let's get this goin’ , Sam says to himself. He gets on the left side, ready for Spence to set a pick, but he just rotates to the other side of the floor, like he doesn’t want the ball. They get through 3 games before falling to some run and gun kids.

Spence says “alright man lets go.” No lift. No sauna. No discussion.

As they leave, Sam says “how bout a beer?”

“Alright, nothing better to do.”

They go to a local taphouse that has like 35 different taps with beers from everywhere. The two decide to have a ‘flight’, with a collection of tastes of beers from a number of different sources. Spence is scrolling through instagram reels of hot girls.

“How ya feelin Spence?”

“Great…” as he throws back a whole taster.

“So when I was in college, we did a road trip to The Bay. And we’re at Pier 39, and you know what Golden State jerseys theyre selling? Fucking Monte (Ellis) and Bierdrens or whatever….”

“Ya that was before…”

“Ya before they won the fucking SHIP! With fucking STEPHEN CURRY!!!”

“Ya.”

“Why can’t that be you??”

“Cuz… i dont know” Sam says sheepishly.

“Because you don't fucking know. You don't know what's out there. You don't know happiness from a rock on Mount Hood. So lets go fucking find it.”

“Ya… I guess.”

“Alright man… let’s go watch some NCAA ball on Saturday and see what’s out there.”

“Alright sounds good” says Spence with a little sense of optimism, glad he got a pep talk, but both of them know that the comparison didn’t really make sense. But point taken.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

Sam picks up Spence in his car, Lola. “Let's go, the game starts in 20 minutes.”

As they fire down highway 26, to downtown, they land on Satellite Bar that carries a myriad of games. This time it is focused on the First Round of March Madness.

Sam and Spence get a stand up table and focus on UCONN. “Dude they won back to back but I heard they aren't as good.”

“Ya, honestly, I forgot to fill out a bracket.”

“You what??? You coulda been the one! The one to make a perfect bracket… you gave up on all that's holy.”

Spence laughs, “alright whatever.”

“They said Florida is ballin ', but there's a lot of teams like.. St. Johns I guess… finally… with Pitino or something.”

“Ya”

“Man I know we’re at Satellite, but you're on the moon.”

Spence stands in silence looking at the screen.

Sam starts scanning the room.

A couple girls wearing Duck gear are sitting at a table of 4.

Sam says, “follow me.”

Spence says “What? Hey… no…”

“Hey who are we rooting for” Sam says, trying to play to the party.

“We got UCONN winning it all” says the blonde with big knockers. Sam sits down as Spence stands at far too much distance for Sam’s liking.

“Well there's your problem! Hurley hasn’t been the same since he got interviewed to be the Lakers coach.”

“What do you mean?” she says.

“Well they won back to back championships, and then he could have been in ‘The City of Angels’ but they gave it to that kid from Duke who did broadcasts”

The girl says with a laugh, “who’s that?”

“You remember JJ Reddick?”

“No way!!! I remember him! He was that kid with all the 3’s! Ya it was him and that kid from Gonzaga…”

“Ya… Adam Morrison, I actually gave him a fist bump the last time I was at a UP (University of Portland)-Gonzaga game.”

“No way!”

“Yeah, I’m Sam, this is my buddy Spence.”

“Nice to meet you!” as Spence enters the space.

“You two make a bracket?”

“Yeah but it's already busted. I don't know what I’m doing.”

“Well Spence has been sitting on his ass looking at stars since his girl broke up with him…” Sam says clearly.

“What?? What happened?”

“I don't know, just didn't happen..” says Spence, just looking for a way to dodge, but Sam won’t let him go.

“She SUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKEEEED” says Sam.

Spence starts to laugh, “yeah we just didn't move forward and weren’t meant to be.”

“Yeah cuz she sucked.”

Everyone laughs.

Sam says “let’s all take a shot to new beginnings, never forgetting the old.”

After a round of cheers, Spence is at least feelin it.

The night goes on, well past the games, and everyone is feeling good. Sam seemed to latch onto big nips and Spence has had consistent conversations with the brunette. 

Finally breaking the party, Sam says to the blonde, “my place?”

She looks at him and says, “yeah” with a smile.

Sam says “alright we’re gonna get goin, you two have a good night!” as he takes her hand to leave. Sam knows he left Spence in good hands with potential, but he won’t know until the morning. Nights last long, and this was a good one.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

Sam gets his morning going… and eventually texts Spence “sup.”

No response. Nothing… all day… all night… Spence is gonna have hell to pay on Monday.

Sam throws his stuff at his desk chair… “what the fuck happened?”

Spence still in a daze, “I don't know… nothing”

“What the fuck do you mean man???”

“I don't know nothing happened.”

“Dude you're funked.”

“Fuck off” under his breath. 

“No… you're too cool… youre too good… you're too great to be feelin like this, shit.”

“Dude… it's Monday. Get off me.”

“Awww… you got a case of the Mondays… “ mocking the iconic movie Office Space.

The boss enters from his habitat, “aaalright guys time to work.”

Sam spins in his chair, and types loudly into his keyboard with a condescending look at Spence, which he acknowledges but ignores.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

Another two days go by and Spence is quieter than a graveyard. Thursday is a home game against the Memphis Grizzlies, and the two have tickets.

Sam walks into work, “Dude fuck Dillon Brooks. I don’t care that he was a Duck.”

Spence finally has a competent answer, “Sam he got traded to Houston.”

“Holy God, from the mouth of Moses, the man can speak. How do you feel after climbing Mt. Sinai?”

Spence is laughing, “Jesus…”

“Alright game plan. MAX. Jacks. Game. And see what happens…”

“Alright let's do it.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

It’s Tuesday and Spence is still off the radar. Sam plays a couple of games, and after a loss, hits the gym.

Back on his bench, he reps out a couple of sets and sees Sarah crossing the room. With weights on both sides and feeling jacked, he goes to say ‘Hi’.

“Hey Sam, how are you?”

“Back at 24… can’t quit… you know how it is.”

“Ya I know, once you make it a habit it’s hard to break.”

Sam is thinking he better quit the cigs, “yeah gotta do it.”

“How’s your friend?”

“His head’s in the clouds. I’m trying to pull him out of it but I don't know what to do.”

“Damn. Well I know some girls around here.. I could get us all together.”

“Yeah… let's plan on that. Again, let me work this out, but I’ll get back to you. Can I still text you?”

“Definitely, we’re a team” she says with an encouraging smile.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

Monday at 9:00 AM on the dot, Sam walks into the office and throws some papers on Spence’s desk, “this is what we're gonna do.”

Spence looks down, it’s a flight plan, he looks at Sam… “New York?”

“Ya man. You need a game changer. And it’s New York. Blazers go on a road trip and they play the Knicks on Saturday. We’re goin.”

“Dude… what are you talkin about… New York? Why?”

“Cuz it’s time to catapult your life… you need to move on and you need a turning stone, and that happens to be a big ass apple.”

“Sam… like logistics, like I can’t do this.”

Sam walks into Simon’s office, “Boss, we gotta get Spence out of here for the sake of his future and this company. He needs a night on the town. We need to take a Friday, and we will be back happy and rejuvenated to make Sinclair Inc. the best it can be… but a personal day.”

“Hmm…” contemplating, “ya i’ve seen a lack of vigor. If you two can work it out, and be available for phone calls and emails, I can give you a long weekend.”

“You got it boss.”

“What did he say?” says Spence.

“Pack your bags.”

“Alright crazy, where are we gonna stay?”

“You want 5 stars?”

“Fuck off I’m not payin for that.”

“Alright here we go… Holiday Inn… 100 bucks.”

“I could throw 100 bucks…” Spence says still processing.

“2 beds 2 nights.” Click.

“Alright, what about flights?”

Click, click, click. “500 round trip.”

“Woah… what are we talkin about?” as he puts his pencil down.

“Spence. I’m not gonna look at you like this. You're out. You're broken. You're in shambles. You need a pick-me-up and I’m gonna give it to you. And it’s gonna start in New York.”

“Hey… come on, I'm not in…”

“Spence! Get your shit together!! We're going to New York.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

As Sam and Spence walk out of LaGuardia Airport in New York City Sam is typing on his iphone.

Spence says “Jesus Christ.”

“Welcome to gym rat heaven.”

Spence chuckles.

“Our uber is almost here, you got your stuff?”

“Just a carry-on. Good God, what are we doing here?”

“Eating out the Statue of LIberty’s pussy… you always said she was hot….”

“You… Jesus… shut up,” and they get into a car driven by ‘Sebastian’.

The two get up to their room and Spence says, “ok, now what?”

“Hold on… let me make sure we get tickets to the game.”

“What???!!! We’re not even goin to the game?”

“You know what they say about panties in a bunch?... no one is going, its the fucking Blazers,” Sam says with a wryly smile, “alright 2 at the top… the most famous arena on earth baby were goin!!!”

Spence starts to laugh, “alright, here we are.”

“Drinks.”

“Drinks.”

“Let’s go see the concierge” Sam says, as if this is the best decision of their lives.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:

Sam and Spence wake up to the lights of The Big City.

“What do you wanna do?” says Spence still in a daze from the bars from the night before.

“I don't know… like Times Square is cool… but I don't wanna take one of those homo photos with you. Just go check it out.”

“Alright… but let's ride the subway. Just to give us perspective on the grandeur of the MAX.”

After an Irish breakfast at O'Donoghues, equipped with irish car bombs and Bayleys splashing their coffee, they are ready to take on the biggest city in the world. “Spence, let’s go to the NBA Store in NYC. It would be epic.”

As they peruse the store, you can measure your height to the great Yao ming, and compare the sizes of their hands.

“I’m gonna get something for my nephew..” says Spence.

“I didn't know you had a nephew.”

“Yeah… Riley. He’s into the game but of course he likes stars. I’m thinkin Luka Lakers jersey. He will be there forever.”

“He's got Jordan backing him so I’d say it's a safe bet for longevity.”

Alright let's get one of those stupid figure drawing things and get to the game.

They get back to the hotel to prepare for the game. They picked up a six pack from the WAWA.

“Who are you wearing?” Sam says interested in his outfit for this momentous moment, feeling like he works for the E! network. 

Spence walks out of the bathroom in a Black #44 Brian Grant Blazer jersey with the trademark stripe across the torso. It’s an epic look, and a diamond in the ruff he found at Goodwill. Brian Grant suffers through Parkinsons… which sucks. There's nothing that can debilitate a life, let alone a career, like this horrific disease.

Sam has a jersey with personal, historical, and athletic accreditation. It is a throw-back Bill Walton Jersey from the late 70’s when they won the NBA Championship in 1977. Honoring his passing just months before, Sam had actually met him in person as he was commentating a Ducks vs Huskies game for the once proud PAC-12. Sam had approached him after the game, wearing his tie-die Conference of Champions T Shirt, and asked him to sign it. Bill says,”yeah, take it off.” Sam.. not being shy in front of one of his heroes, and knowing his current frame… took it off and held it out to be signed. Bill said “Go Blazers.” Those were the last words of a legend, and a story that has gotten him far.

Feeling equipped, they head to Madison Square Garden, they heckle that ‘it's not thaaaat big’ but its history in and of itself.

The greats: Jordan, Lebron, Durrant

The greats pride themselves on their performance at MSG.

Sam and Spence both order 2 beers, so their fists are ready for a big night

The two cheer loud and long for their beloved Blazers and after multiple beers stagger out of MSG to the pavilion. Another Blazer loss.

“I got one more surprise for you” says Sam.

Inebriated and taking in the moment “nothing could be better” says Spence.

Sam types into his phone for an Uber. 

CHAPTER TWENTY:

“Where are we going?”

“I’m not really from here, so I don't really know…” Sam says sarcastically, ”But I know where we’ll end up.”

In the safety of their Uber driver Sahid, he says “here ya go Rucker Park.”

Spence grabs at the door handle and stops, he slowly looks over at Sam who is giddily ushering ‘come on.’

They enter the cage, feeling out of place, and scurry over to a bench to watch NY legends play in the pantheon of pick up basketball. Spence was amazed. Sam sees Spence in awe, and talks to a couple locals, “who should we be lookin at?” “

“Well I mean, no one here is the likes of Wilt and Dr. J … but that's Gallon and the older guy is JoRo and (someone in a cutoff shirt just dunked)... and THAT is Nooner.”

Sam and Spence’s jaws were next to their balls as they watched real pick up basketball.

There were friendly high fives, and a whole lotta jabber,  but some of the sweetest strokes, defense, blocks, and dunks you will ever see on black top.

Sam and Spence just sat there. “This is amazing.”, said Spence “I can't believe I am here.”

They watch a couple of games that dabble with “did you see that” and “ooooooooooo”. No place could be better for these two.

It was midnight and they didn't want to leave.

Some guy with an afro says “you Triscuits wanna play?”

Sam and Spence just look at each other. Them. Play at Rucker Park.

“Yeah we need two. But take that Walton shit off he doesn’t belong here.”

Sam hastily takes off his Walton jersey and tightens his Jordan 4’s.

Spence is trying to match up but understands he has no possible schematic advantage.

The leader, with an afro pick in his hair, says “How bout I take him, you take him, and you take that guy?”

After silent affirmation, Sam and Spence introduce themselves to their opponents and get ready to play the game of their lives.

The moment was too great to describe. From playing with high schoolers and Scott, to the most iconic court in the world was too much, too much to describe, too much to comprehend. And it would take years to take it all in for these two scrubs.

They eventually exit the park, and Spence’s hands are shaking, his eyes are wide, and he can't talk. Sam is a little more jovial. He says, I got one more stop. By now Spence can't imagine but is trying to process playing at Rucker Park.

This time in a taxi cab, Sam says “Moonrise Tattoo Parlor.”

He looks at Spence, who is still utterly flabbergasted at what just happened, just looks ahead, and he seems to be unable to put his jaw back in place. He is baffled about this experience. After a couple of seconds, replaying it all in his brain, he says “wait, what?”

CHAPTER TWENTY:

Sam and Spence exit out of the cab and get onto the sidewalk. Spence is in stunned silence as he doesn't hug or grasp Sam, but just holds him and can't seem to let go. He just played at Rucker Park. The essence of inner city New York basketball. The foundation of pickup. The epicenter of where the greats have shown their stuff. He was there. He played. It would change him forever.

Sam walks into the parlor and says I want the ‘Trailblazer Swirl’ on my shoulder. “Were talkin the Blazer logo? Yeah?” 

“No problem, let's draw some specs and you'll sign some forms, cool?” He has ‘CASH ONLY’ tattooed across his knuckles.

“Cool”

Spence is still on cloud nine. He can't believe it. NY. MSG. Rucker Park. And now he's in a tattoo parlor to commemorate the experience. He can only look at his great friend Sam as he sits on the tattoo parlor chair. What Sam has done for him in 2 weeks, will change his appreciation for him and his acceptance of what he wants in life. He looks at him and sees a friend, not someone he shares a desk with. Someone who was there, for no reason, to bring him out of something that could have crippled him. Bring him to despair. Bring him to decline. And this trip to NYC was exactly what he needed to break out of his egg shell, and whip out a big fat cock.

As he looked at his friend Sam, he said, "I know what I want.”

In separate quarters Spence yells “are we really doing this?”

“Ya man I’m gettin the swirl it's gonna look sick! What are you getting?”

“Ha ha ha you’ll see”

After an hour of pain, the two were sobering and tired. They looked at what would last the rest of their lives. Sam got his Blazer Swirl that will look sick forever. Spence went with something different. On his back shoulder he got that tattoo Andy from The Office got on his butt. 

Sam looked at it and said “what the hell is that?” 

Spence said, “that's the nard dog, from the best character of the TV Show The Office. And that dog represents my best friend who helped me through a really tough time.”

“I got your back bro,” the two call a cab, and Sam says “more drinks?”

Spence says “no … no i think I'm good.”

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE:

Sunday they have an 11:00 AM checkout to a 2:30 flight. They have some time to kill so the two sit together killing time. They are scrolling through their phones, “Blazers couldn’t pull it off. No KAT. No Hart. It’s gonna take years.” said Sam.

“Yeah I see a future for the Blazers if they draft well.”

“Now boarding……..” bla bla bla said the flight attendant.

Sam and Spence are a couple of the few making the trip back to Portland, “can we just get on?”

Cutie just says “ yeah go ahead.”

The plane largely empty, Sam puts his airpods in and reaches into his backpack.

Spence gives him an elbow shove, “Hey thanks man”

“You bet,” says Sam.

“No really, I appreciate it.”

Sam smiles, throws in a couple melatonin and reclines into the comfort of a ‘Boeing something don't go downer.’

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO:

Sam checks in at the 24 front desk and strolls past the ellipticals over to the locker room. 

Sarah comes out of nowhere to greet him. “Sam! Where have you been??”

Sam says, “I was in New York”

She says, “What? New York??? What were you doing there?”

Sam looks at her, and pauses for a second that seems to take effect, “you want to go get a drink?”

Sarah smiles and says,”sure… let’s get out of here.”

TEN YEARS LATER:

Sam and Sarah are happily married and have plenty of stories and 2 kids to keep them busy. He got his dream job, as an Account Executive at Nike. He follows the game and coaches his oldest in youth basketball at his alma-mater St. Cecilia and the team is still trying to break 30 points.

Spence found a girl at a Blazer game, and has season tickets. He invites Sam regularly, and tells him he sees longevity with this one. They are waiting for kids but see marriage on the horizon. Something they have talked about and seem serious to pursue in the future.

Sam and Spence still play at 24 Hour Fitness, evaluating talent.