“Dumbass, who else is?” Jim asked.
“Home opener, fundraisers, the governor, Eve,” I said as I counted off the reasons we had a crowd.
“Movie star, model, Star Wars publicity,” Jim counted back. “Oh, and I heard you were responsible for getting Eve and the governor there. It’s all on you, Dude.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Think about it. What would happen if Shawn Mendes showed up? This place would be swarmed.”
“I’m not Shawn Mendes,” I complained.
“You might as well be. You’re our Shawn Mendes. People around here are proud of you and want to meet you,” Jim said.
“I’m not buying it,” I said.
“Just saying, Dude. It’s all on you,” Jim said.
I decided to change the subject.
“Mike plays baseball for Wesleyan. What should we do to welcome him back?” I asked.
We played them this weekend as the second half of the doubleheader.
“Maybe we could have our pitcher stick one in his ear.”
It sounded like Jim still held a grudge.
“I’m usually all for that, but I don’t want to piss his dad off. Mr. Herndon is volunteering his time to coach us, after all.”
“I’d like to give Mike a taste of his own medicine. I wish I knew who his girlfriend was,” Jim said.
“Tami told me the jerk hit on her and a few of my friends at Wesleyan. He may, in fact, be dating Harper.”
Jim and the rest of the guys had met Harper when she and I were going out last year.
“What happened between you two, anyway? I thought you made a good couple,” Jim said.
“We went to a party, and she picked an old crush over me,” I admitted.
“That sucks.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, and then looked Jim in the eyes. “If you decide to hit on her, do me a favor and don’t hurt her. I still consider her a friend.”
“You’ve always been more forgiving of exes than I ever would be, but I hear you. Maybe we could plan an after-game party and invite the Wesleyan girls,” Jim suggested.
“Keep me out of it. I don’t really want to deal with Mike and his drama. I don’t even really think about the jerk anymore since he transferred,” I said and then thought about it. “Tell Tami your plan.”
“You think she might get Harper to our party?” he asked.
“You better tell her all of it. If you don’t, she’ll call Cassidy, and Alabama will be down one recruit,” I warned.
“I’m not scared of that little girl,” he boasted.
“Bullshit,” I said, and we both laughed.
◊◊◊
At the dojo, Shiggy pulled me aside.
“I’m ordering some equipment and thought you might want to get some things, like your own Bo staff and batons.”
I’d borrowed the one I ran with from Shiggy, and I’d had it for nearly six months. He showed me the catalog and had a couple of pages marked. Cassidy came over and saw what I was looking at.
“What’re you doing?”
“Shiggy said I had to buy my own Bo staff and batons. Did you want something?” I asked.
I owed her for teaching me, so I was willing to buy her almost anything she wanted.
For myself, I found a practice heavy Bo staff that weighed twice as much as the one I currently used. It also came with a hard-side travel case. It was like a pool cue in that you could unscrew it in the center to break it down to make it easier to pack and carry. Cassidy picked out a few things, and I gave Shiggy our order.
I worked with her dad and Fritz again, boxing. This time I was more willing to listen to Fritz about slipping punches. Coach Hope and Fritz were good teachers. They spent time showing me how I could switch back and forth between martial arts and boxing to be a more effective fighter.
◊◊◊
When I finally got home, Dad wanted to talk to me.
“Mr. Morris wants us to call him.”
We stepped into the office, and Dad dialed his number. When we finally got him on the line, he got to the point.
“There has been a little hiccup. The NCAA was ready to certify your eligibility until they heard about the crowds that showed up for your game and the fundraisers. I’m going to need a list of everyone involved and get them on record.”
“Why’s it a big deal?” I asked.
“You signed autographs for your movie and played baseball. I expect they know you didn’t receive any compensation for the event. I think they simply don’t know what to do with you.”
“Why do I feel nervous about this?” I asked.
“You shouldn’t. I don’t see where you’ve broken any rules in your role in planning or taking part in the event. I just want to do my due diligence and be prepared in case they have questions,” Mr. Morris said.
“Did Dad tell you there’s another one this weekend?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you they’re going to start selling tickets for the car Range Sports gave me?”
“Are you serious? They better not be using your name in relation to any of this,” he ranted.
“Why don’t you call Mrs. Sullivan and talk to her? When I gave the car back to Range Sports, they donated it to the Booster Club to raise funds with,” I said.
“How much do they plan to raise?”
I looked at Dad.
“They’re selling tickets for $100 each, and the plan is to sell a thousand of them,” Dad answered.
“Shit. I’ll call them first thing to make sure you’re not associated with it. It would probably help if they repainted the car.”
“How much longer do you expect the NCAA will take getting David certified?” Dad asked.
“At this point, I don’t know. My fear is that because he’s unique, they might just hold off making a decision. We might not know for several months.”
That just made my day.
◊◊◊ Tuesday March 15
Today was the primary election. Polls showed that the governor and Senator Dixon were well ahead of their challengers. Bev Mass was down a couple of points. A white police officer shooting a young black man with a history of mental illness was too much for the people of Cook County. If the officer had waited for the Taser unit, which had been called, this would have been a nonevent. To shoot the man sixteen times was too much, as far as I was concerned. Bev agreed and had the officer charged with first-degree murder. Unfortunately for Bev, it was a case of ‘kick them all out’ that got her smeared in the primary. I expected that by the end of the day, she would be out of a job come the end of her term.
It could also have been the public perception of how it was all handled. A judge ordered the dashcam recording to be released by November 25 of last year. City officials had argued for months that it couldn’t be made public until the conclusion of several investigations. The fear wasn’t that it might hinder the investigations, it was of what the citizenry would do. There had been recent unrest in other cities when similar events had occurred. Bev had the officer charged; those charges came out on November 24.
The video showed the officer firing sixteen shots into the teen. It took him fifteen seconds to do it, and the video showed the young man face down on the ground for thirteen of those seconds. When people saw the body jerk multiple times as the officer fired, it was game over.
There were eight other officers at the scene when he emptied his gun into the young man. The police union and his lawyers claimed that he was in mortal fear of his life, but that argument didn’t hold water. The police internal investigation disagreed with their assertion that he acted in self-defense. Given the number of policemen present and the call to the Taser unit, they could have waited. When shot, the youth had been pacing back and forth with a knife in his hand. If he’d made a move towards the police, I might have been on board with the officer using lethal force to protect himself. I might even have understood emptying his gun into the kid—under extreme stress, that happened sometimes. But this guy was just pacing; he never made that move.