“You been to more of these games then I have,” he said. “You know our friend back there?”
“Doesn’t look familiar,” I said. “Seems to like Steven, though.”
“Steven number 4?” Denny asked.
“Yeah. Matt says Steven plays with the high school kids sometimes, holds his own.”
Denny nodded, and we went back to watching the game. Matt’s team ended up losing by six points. As usual, the kids on both squads formed lines and walked past each other, slapping hands and saying “Good game.”
Denny and I started walking down from the stands to talk to Simon, but the big guy who’d been yelling beat us down there. By the time we arrived, he was getting in Simon’s face.
“Hey, man, what the hell’s wrong with you?” You the reason the team lost, takin’ Steven out like that!”
Simon had been stuffing a few basketballs into a large canvas bag during the guy’s tirade. The guy was taller and heavier than Simon, who was wearing a loose-fitting sweatshirt that hid his gymnast’s build. He stopped what he was doing and turned to the guy and put out his hand.
“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Simon Ventura.”
The guy ignored Simon’s hand. Scowling, he said, “Don’t give a damn who you are, boy. Just wanna know why you took my nephew out the game. Steven needs his minutes if he gonna be a lottery pick in the NBA in a few years.”
Simon kept his voice calm and low.
“We have a rule in this league that says every kid gets to play so many minutes every game. I had to take Steven and Matt out to give the other boys their minutes.”
“Fuck the rule!” shouted the guy.
Most of the kids had started toward the locker room, but now they stopped and stared at Simon and Steven’s uncle. Steven, with an obvious look of embarrassment on his face, came over and stood next to the adults.
“C’mon, Uncle Jake, it’s a rule. No problem.”
Before the guy could respond, Simon turned to all the boys and said, “Okay, hit the showers, then meet me at the door. If everyone’s ready in fifteen minutes from right now, the ice cream’s on me at Gardino’s.”
Ten seconds later, the gym was empty of kids, and most of the adults were gone, too, but Steven’s uncle hadn’t cooled off any.
“Hey, man,” he yelled at Simon. “I ain’t finished with you yet.”
“Yes, you are,” said Denny, as he stepped between them.
Big as the guy was, he was nowhere near Denny’s size, and you could see that fact register as he stood next to Denny and looked up at him.
“C’mon, bro,” he said. “This is a racial thing here. Can’t you see that?”
Keeping his voice low, Denny said, “Look’s more like an asshole thing to me.”
The guy started to say something, then stopped for a second, then said, “Yeah, well, this cracker’s lucky you stopped me. I was ‘bout to kick his sorry ass all the way across this court. Dude better hope you’re around next time I come to a game, too.”
Denny leaned in close to the guy then and said, “Okay, there are three things that can happen here. One, you can go have ice cream with everybody else. Two, I can arrest you. Did I mention I’m a cop? Three, I can leave you here with the cracker. By the way, he was an All-American gymnast at UCLA and can bench-press more than I can.”
Denny stepped back a little to let the guy take a breath.
“I was you,” he told him, “I’d opt for the ice cream. Gardino’s got that pralines and cream this month. It’s downright yummy.”
* * *
An hour or so later, Denny and I were sitting in a booth at the Eat ‘n Park on Murray Avenue in Squirrel Hill, drinking coffee and sharing an order of grilled stickies.
“You think these things have any nutritional value at all?” I asked, as I pulled off a chunk and popped it in my mouth.
“Hard to imagine,” Denny replied. “But if you’re concerned about your health, son, I’d be happy to finish off your share, and you could order yourself a bowl of broccoli instead.”
I smiled and said, “Thanks, but I’ll take a chance on the produce police not being out late tonight.”
We sat quietly for a minute, and then I said, “You ever think about how hard it must be to raise kids these days?”
“Sure,” said Denny.
Then he held his cup in both hands and smiled at me over the rim.
“Don’t tell me you got Miss Laura in trouble already, ‘specially after I done ‘splained to you ‘bout the birds and bees and being careful and all.”
I smiled back and said, “Not so far, boss.”
Denny leaned back on his side of the booth and looked across the table at me for a minute.
“So I’m guessing we’ve shifted into a philosophical mode here, right?”
I smiled again and said, “Yeah, a little. I mean, I know most of this is because of Anthony, but part of it’s just kids in general. I look at how hard Angie and Simon work to give Matt and Abby a good home, and how Larretta would do just about anything to get Anthony away from the gangs, including sending him to live with a relative in another state. And a few weeks ago, one of Abby’s teachers took a knife off a kid at school. It was just a little pocketknife, but the kid said he needed it for protection. We’re talking nine-year-olds here, for God’s sake.”
Denny rubbed his eyes for a minute, and then said, “If you’ll excuse me for using some of that educational jargon I know you love so much, the problem here is that you’re a results-oriented person, and once you know the result you want, you pretty much go after it in as straight a line as possible.”
I nodded and said, “I find this strangely compelling, doctor. Please continue.”
Denny grinned at me and then went on.
“Part of the
