More Than Rivals

by Ken Abraham

  Eddie returned to the park, but he didn’t feel much like playing. He used the ball for a seat and sat down on the sidelines, propping his elbows on his knees and holding his chin in his hands, watching some other boys play. For more than a half hour, he simply stared ahead as his thoughts raced. I’ve lost my brother, and now I’ve lost my new friends. Although I’m close to my sisters, I feel alone in the world. I have nothing left but sports.

  Eddie stood, bounced the ball hard on the asphalt surface, moved onto the court, and took a shot.

  Swish!

  10

  “LET’S GO! GET IN THE CAR!” Jim Sherlin called to his family members. “We gotta get to the church on time!” Jim glanced at his watch. It was nearing half past six, and the choir was scheduled to rehearse before the service began at seven thirty that evening. Jim had just gotten home from work and had barely been able to gobble down a quick bite of dinner. Eddie, Delilah, and Debbie had hurried to get their homework done as soon as they’d gotten home from school. Their dad was hurrying them along, encouraging them to get into the car and head to the special church service that night.

  The start of the new school year always signaled time for revival services at the Assembly of God church in Gallatin. Many of the other denominational congregations in town held revivals around the same time of year. Something about the crisp September air and the beginning of harvest time for the farmers carried over to the church, creating an atmosphere of expectation. Many churches distributed flyers and hung large signs in front of their sanctuaries, announcing a time of spiritual renewal. Most hardened unbelievers ignored the notices, but revival was not merely a season of evangelism. It was also a time for the faithful to renew their commitments and for backsliders to return to their first love.

  The Sherlins attended revival services anytime they were held at the church. Revival services had the flavor of an indoor camp meeting, so enthusiasm ran high. The congregation was accustomed to great gospel singing and strong preaching during revival time. Occasionally, the church brought in a famous guest singer for the week. And preachers! Oh, the marvelous preachers the Sherlins heard. Brother David Wilkerson, author of the bestselling book The Cross and the Switchblade, a powerful tale detailing Wilkerson’s courageous evangelistic forays in the toughest sections of New York City and the subsequent conversion of gang member Nicky Cruz, was one of many outstanding speakers who had graced their pulpit. The congregation came with an attitude of great expectancy. Something big was likely to happen during revival time.

  The Sherlin family—except for Bo, who remained at home with a neighbor because he was still immobile in a body cast—arrived at the church and parked, just as they did on Sunday mornings, in their normal space. Jim and Betty, as well as Delilah and Debbie hurried to the choir loft while Eddie slid into one of the front rows.

  Soon the service began with lively congregational singing and testimonies. People all over the sanctuary stood and shared how God had blessed their lives after they had met Jesus. The choir sang a rousing version of an old favorite, “Victory in Jesus.” Fortunately for Jim, they didn’t need much rehearsal. Everyone knew the song and sang it with gusto.

  Tonight’s revival service did not feature a special speaker. Instead, Reverend Daley was preaching, so Eddie was uncomfortable already. Eddie got nervous every time Brother Daley preached. It always seemed as though the pastor was reading Eddie’s thoughts, looking deep into his heart and mind and digging up his most personal secrets. Indeed, tonight as the preacher railed against sins of every sort, Eddie’s mind quickly returned to the last time he and Bo stole cigarettes from the gas station a few weeks before Bo’s accident.

  Most of the adults in Eddie’s extended family smoked cigarettes, so, not surprisingly, Bo took up the habit in his early teens. Eddie tried smoking, but it didn’t appeal to him as much as it did to Bo, who was trying to establish a bad-boy James Dean image. Besides, since they had such little money, neither of them could afford cigarettes.

  The boys went into the Red-A gas station, and Bo browsed, creating the appearance he was going to buy something. Meanwhile, Eddie watched until the gas station attendant went outside or was busy helping another customer. Eddie quickly reached across the counter and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from one of the open racks. He stashed the stolen cigarettes under his shirt and slowly ambled toward the front door, remaining as inconspicuous as possible. Occasionally, he snatched a piece of bubble gum or candy for himself.

  Eddie always felt guilty after stealing. He tried to rationalize his thievery with the truth that their family was poor. He even thought that if he ever earned a few extra dollars helping local farmers harvest their tobacco, he’d come back and pay old Mr. Stockton, who owned the gas station. He might even confess his involvement in facilitating Bo’s habit. Of course, he never did.

  But that night as Brother Daley preached a fire-and-brimstone sermon, conviction fell heavily on Eddie. Although stealing wasn’t Eddie’s only sin, he could imagine himself dangling over the fires of hell, holding on by the length of a cigarette—a burning cigarette, at that.

  Eddie’s spiritual insecurity and the gnawing feeling that he could never be good enough for God, that he could never live up to the Bible’s high standards, and his sense of guilt increased exponentially the longer Brother Daley preached. And that night, Brother Daley was on a roll! Perspiration streamed down his face as he passionately implored his people to “get right with God” and respond to God’s call on their lives.

  Eddie cringed when he said, “The Bible says very clearly that we’ve all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. It’s not how big your sins are or how many sins you have committed.” Then he lowered his voice and said, “If you have ever sinned, you need a Savior.”

  Something deep within Eddie told him Brother Daley was telling the truth, so even though the message made him uncomfortable, he was grateful. If I had a disease, I guess I’d want the doctor to tell me. Especially if he knew a cure.

  And Brother Daley was clear about the cure. “While we were yet sinners, Jesus Christ died for us. He paid the penalty for your sins and mine.”

  Eddie fidgeted in the pew.

  “The wages of our sin is death, but the free gift of God is life, eternal life available through Jesus Christ. If you believe in your heart that God raised Jesus from the dead, and you confess with your mouth and are willing to turn your life over to Jesus and let him help you turn from your sin, then you will be saved!”

  Eddie had heard similar sermons before, but for some reason tonight’s message seared into his heart and mind in a fresh way. And for the first time, the message struck Eddie as good news rather than mere condemnation. Brother Daley no longer seemed so scary to Eddie but rather more like a loving father concerned for his children’s safety.

  “If you want to have a real relationship with Jesus, not just mere religion,” Brother Daley said as he walked down from the pulpit area, “I am inviting you to come here to the front of the church and pray with us. You can place your trust in Jesus right now. Ask him to forgive you and give you a fresh, clean start in life.”

  The church musicians played “Just As I Am.” Several people walked down the aisle to the front of the sanctuary. Some knelt at the altar rail, while others remained standing. “Oh, hallelujah!” Eddie heard someone shout. “Glory to God!” someone else said loudly.

  Eddie’s heart was pounding wildly. He knew what he had to do. Although he felt tears trickling down his face, his response to the gospel was not so much emotional as it was an act of Eddie’s will. He decided that he wanted to trust Jesus. He stepped out of the pew in which he had been sitting, walked to the front of the church, and dropped to his knees.

  Eddie didn’t need anyone to help him pray. He had prayed for forgiveness hundreds of times in his young life, but he was grateful when Brother Dawson, a kindly older man with a gentle spirit, knelt down next to him and put an arm around his shoulder. With the music still playing in the
background, members of the congregation singing softly, and Brother Daley continuing to encourage others to trust Jesus, it was almost hard for Eddie to hear Brother Dawson when he asked, “Eddie, why are you here?”

  “I want to turn my life over to Jesus. I’m sorry for my sins. I don’t want to live like that anymore.”

  “Well, Eddie, you know what the Bible says,” Brother Dawson spoke softly as he turned to the back of his Bible. “‘If we will confess our sins, he is faithful to forgive us of our sins, and to cleanse us of all unrighteousness.’ Do you remember that, Eddie?”

  Eddie nodded. “I stole a bunch of cigarettes,” Eddie confessed to Brother Dawson. “I didn’t smoke ’em, but I did steal them.”

  Brother Dawson nodded. “I understand, Eddie. You don’t need to tell me; just tell it to the Lord.”

  “And I’ve had a bunch of lustful thoughts. And I’ve stolen candy.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And I’ve been using some bad language too. And there are some people I’m really starting to hate.”

  “Okay, Eddie. You don’t need to confess your sins to me or to Brother Daley or to the church or anyone else. Only the Lord Jesus can really forgive you. Only he can satisfy your soul. Tell him all about it. Ask him to forgive you and to wash you clean. And then ask him to give you the power to live the way the Bible says and to help you love other people the way he loves them.”

  Eddie nodded at Brother Dawson and started to pray aloud, quietly but emphatically. The saintly gentleman next to Eddie closed his eyes and prayed along with him.

  “Jesus, I am trusting you with my life from now on. I’m sorry I have sinned so much, but Brother Daley and Brother Dawson say you are willing to forgive me. So I’m asking you to do that.” Eddie continued praying for several minutes. He didn’t use fancy, religious language. He simply poured out his heart to God, asking for his forgiveness and help. “I’m trusting you, Jesus, to save me. Save me from hell, save me from sin, and even save me from my own selfishness.”

  Not until Eddie opened his eyes and looked around did he realize his parents were kneeling behind him, praying for him, as well as for themselves and for Bo and for the girls. Delilah and Debbie sat in the front row of the church. Tears of joy streamed down their faces.

  Eddie slowly stood to his feet. “How do you feel?” Brother Dawson asked.

  “I don’t know how to describe it,” Eddie replied honestly. “I just feel clean on the inside. Is that what it means to be born again?”

  Brother Dawson laughed. “That’s about as good of a definition as I’ve heard.” He patted Eddie on the back. “Now let me give you a couple of tips that will help you stay on track with God. First, make sure you read some from the Bible every day. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Eddie replied, drying the wet tears on his face.

  “Second, talk to God, just like we are talking right now. That’s what prayer is—talking with God. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Third, tell someone what you have done here tonight, someone who knows you well and will be able to notice the changes that come about in your life.”

  “Okay.”

  “And fourth, make sure you get to church as often as possible. There’s nothing magical about any of these things, but they will help you stay spiritually strong.”

  “Thank you, Brother Dawson.”

  “You’re welcome, Eddie,” the elderly man said. “I know you have never been a bad boy. But we both know that what you did here tonight was an important step for you.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s right. But Brother Dawson . . .” Eddie shuffled and looked down at the carpet. “I’ve never felt that I was good enough for God, that I could ever live up to all the rules and regulations in the Bible.”

  “Ha! Me neither, Eddie.” The old man slapped his knees. “But that’s the best part of the Good News.”

  “The best part?”

  “Yes, you don’t have to be good enough. In fact, none of us are, or ever will be good enough for God on our own. But Jesus is good enough. When you trust him, you can go right into God’s presence. The Bible says if you believe God raised Jesus from the dead and confess that with your mouth, you will be saved. You’ve done that tonight, Eddie. So you can be sure that from this night on, you are saved.”

  People around the room were beaming, their broad smiles lighting the room. Several were praying aloud, and others stood singing at the front of the church. Reverend Daley saw Eddie at the altar area and with one look at Eddie’s countenance said, “Eddie Sherlin, you got saved here tonight!”

  Eddie looked up at the preacher, smiled sheepishly, and nodded. “Yes, sir, I did.”

  11

  “HEY, EDDIE! Show ’em how you can dunk the volleyball,” Eddie’s best friend, Buddy Bruce, called to him from the bleachers on the far side of the Gallatin High School gymnasium. Although Eddie was only in eighth grade and not even five foot eight, he could jump like he had built-in springboards in his legs.

  Eddie smiled at Buddy, his gentle giant of a friend. Everyone in school was afraid of Buddy because of his stocky, muscular build. Everyone but Eddie. Eddie knew better. Inside Buddy’s bulky bear of a body was a good, caring kid. But there was also the tough guy. Buddy became Eddie’s protector, his bodyguard. If a bully threatened Eddie, Buddy whipped the daylights out of that guy.

  Now that Eddie was playing basketball on the junior high team, he spent most of his spare time in the gymnasium, and Buddy was his biggest fan. One day, when Eddie was just fooling around playing a game of H-O-R-S-E, someone accidentally kicked a volleyball in his direction. Eddie caught the ball on the first bounce and in one or two steps, as though he were driving the lane to shoot a layup with a basketball, he palmed the volleyball and leaped toward the basketball rim. With room to spare, he slam-dunked the volleyball through the net. Watching from the bleachers, Buddy went nuts, yelling and cheering.

  “Do it again!” Buddy yelled.

  So Eddie did, dunking the volleyball as easily as he had the first time.

  The other players in the gym hooted and hollered as though Eddie had just scored the winning bucket in the state championship game. “Whoa, Eddie! That is fantastic!” one of Eddie’s teammates said. “How did you do that? How can you jump so high?”

  “I don’t know,” Eddie responded. “I just saw the rim and jumped for it.” He smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t tryin’ to show off.”

  “Show off all you want!” another of Eddie’s teammates gushed. “We don’t mind.”

  Before long, word got out about the eighth grader at Gallatin who could dunk a volleyball. By the time Eddie completed junior high, although he grew a mere two inches, he was able to dunk a full-sized basketball.

  When the varsity basketball coach, Jerry Vradenburg, saw Eddie dunk the ball, he was amazed. “Tell you what, Eddie. Why don’t you do some layups before the varsity game tonight and warm up the crowd by showing them how you can dunk the ball.”

  “Really, Coach?” Eddie said. “You’d let me do that?”

  “Sure thing. Even though slam-dunking is not permitted during regulation play, I think the home fans will love it.” He smiled. “And I’ll keep the referees busy down in the locker room while you entertain the crowd.”

  “Okay, Coach. I’ll be glad to do it. It should be fun,” Eddie said.

  Tonight would be Eddie’s first official experience as part of the famed Gallatin Green Wave. The unusual school nickname was initially applied to Gallatin athletes by William Bright Hunter, a popular Gallatin teacher and coach in the early 1930s. Coach Hunter was an avid fan of Tulane University in New Orleans—known as the original Green Wave. Absent any other label, Coach Hunter co-opted the tag and it stuck.

  As the Gallatin Green Wave prepared to play the Springfield Yellow Jackets that evening, Eddie dressed in his junior high uniform and jogged onto the court. He stopped near the foul line. One of the team managers tossed Eddie a basketball. Eddie took several dr
ibbles and then leaped toward the rim, soaring through the air, his feet nearly twenty-four inches off the floor, while balancing the basketball in his hands. He allowed his left hand to drop off the ball as his right hand dunked it through the net.

  The crowd of Gallatin fans roared their approval. They had rarely seen tall players able to dunk the ball, much less a player Eddie’s size. “Do it again!” someone called.

  Eddie smiled toward the bleachers in the direction from which the voice had come. The manager bounced another ball to Eddie as he jogged around to the top of the key and continued on a hard-driving layup. Eddie, leaping into the air and grasping the ball with both hands, slam-dunked the ball through the net.

  The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Downstairs in the locker room, Coach Vradenburg smiled as he wrapped up his pregame pep talk. “Okay, boys, let’s go get ’em!” The varsity Green Wave players bounded out of the locker room, up the stairs, and onto the basketball court to the enthusiastic cheers of the home-team spectators.

  Meanwhile, the Springfield team and fans, already demoralized by Eddie’s performance, sat in a subdued hush. If Gallatin had an eighth grader who could dunk the ball, they didn’t stand a chance.

  Across town, over at Union High School, Bill Ligon had experienced a growth spurt. The brightest influence in Bill’s life, other than his mom, was George Randolf Offitt, the Union High School bandleader. Unusually pale for a Negro, Mr. Offitt could pass for a white person outside of Gallatin but was committed to helping black children learn music, so he taught all his life at Union. Mr. Offitt followed in the footsteps of his father, a former band director at Union, and poured his effort into developing talented young musicians throughout the Union ranks. Since the elementary school was right down the street from the high school, Mr. Offitt went out of his way to start giving the students instrument lessons when they were young. He often allowed the sixth graders and other “more mature” elementary school students to perform with the high school band, keeping the students interested as they transitioned from elementary to junior high and into their final years in the Union school system.