More Than Rivals

by Ken Abraham

  “Well, we got a big man too. Ronald, come up here,” Anthony called over his shoulder.

  From out of the darkness behind the cars from Springfield stepped a mean-looking giant of a kid who appeared as though he could play starting tackle for the Green Bay Packers.

  “This here’s Ronald,” he said. “And Ronald doesn’t like it when someone from Gallatin goes pushin’ on one of our star players. Ronald thinks you ought to apologize. Ain’t that right, Ronald?”

  Ronald grunted.

  Buddy gave Ronald a once-over. No question about it. Ronald was huge. But that didn’t deter Buddy for a moment. “You know, you’re right. I really should apologize. I was wrong to push your man. I should have knocked his teeth out right there on center court.”

  Buddy shoved Anthony even harder than he had pushed the center. Anthony stumbled backward but didn’t fall. He stepped forward toward Buddy. “You just made a big mistake, boy.”

  “Boy?” Buddy said. “Do I look colored to you?” He clenched his fists and stepped closer as Ronald moved between them, squaring off with Buddy. They were about to throw punches when they heard a car roar into the lot, screeching to a halt.

  Eddie, Henry, and several other Gallatin players poured out of the car. Eddie immediately recognized what was about to happen, so he ran right into the middle of the group of kids. “Hold on, guys!” he yelled. “Cool it for a second.”

  “Get outta here, Sherlin,” one of the Springfield guys said. “This ain’t about you.”

  “Sure, it is,” Eddie said. “It’s my team too. Come on, guys. Calm down. Let’s talk this through. We had a good game. Somebody had to win, and somebody had to lose. That’s all there is to it. Buddy just lost his cool after the game. He was trying to protect his friend—me. He meant no harm. And he’s sorry now, aren’t ya, Buddy?” Eddie looked at Buddy. “Go ahead, Buddy. It’s okay. I wasn’t hurt. Tell them. It’s all just a big mistake and we’re sorry. Let’s get out of here and go back to the party.”

  Buddy raised his eyebrows and looked at Eddie like he was crazy. He wasn’t accustomed to backing down, especially to a bunch like the gang from Springfield. Buddy had no doubt he could take down Ronald the Giant. But he caught Eddie’s look. He breathed out a long gust of air and walked over to Ronald. Buddy extended his hand to shake. Ronald eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds and then took Buddy’s hand. The moment Buddy had Ronald in his grasp, Buddy kicked him between the legs as hard as he could.

  The giant buckled with a mighty wail and toppled to the ground in pain.

  “Buddy!” Eddie shouted. “Are you out of your mind? What are you doing?”

  Seeing their hero on the ground, the Springfield guys leaped onto Buddy, one tackling him low, another hitting him around the shoulders, and a third guy wrapping his arms around his head. The Gallatin guys sprang to the rescue, punching and dragging the Springfield boys off Buddy as fast as they could. Once Buddy’s arms were free, he went on the offensive, punching madly at anyone who dared get near him.

  At one point, Eddie tried to pull several Springfield guys off Buddy. The aggressors let go of Buddy and began clobbering Eddie. Buddy then grabbed one guy by the neck and the other by the waist, pulling them both off Eddie and throwing them down onto the hard ground.

  Fists flew in every direction as the Springfield and Gallatin boys fought viciously in the dark. The imbroglio continued until nearly every boy had been slugged several times, with Buddy and Ronald doing the most fighting. The battle finally subsided when one of the Springfield boys got knocked down, hit his head, and didn’t get back up. He eventually regained consciousness, but the blow was enough to scare the combatants into calling a truce. Nobody claimed victory, but neither side accepted defeat either.

  With the fight finally over, the boys piled back into their cars and slowly pulled away from the lakeshore, all except Ronald and Anthony and Eddie and Buddy. Eddie sat on the edge of the lake, nursing a cut above his eye. “Looks like the bleeding has stopped,” Buddy said. He took off his T-shirt, soaked it in the lake water, and handed it to Eddie to wipe the blood off his face. Buddy, now bare-chested, sat down on the ground next to Eddie.

  “Aren’t you freezing?” Eddie asked.

  “Nah, can’t feel a thing,” Buddy said with a laugh. “How are you doing? Your hands and arms okay? How ’bout your legs?”

  “Yeah, I’m all right,” Eddie said.

  Anthony helped Ronald to their car and then looked back at Eddie. “Hey, Sherlin.”

  “Yeah?” Eddie turned to see who was calling his name.

  Anthony waved to him and yelled, “Good luck on Saturday night. As much as we hate you guys, we hate them more. We’ll be rootin’ for you.”

  Eddie didn’t answer, but Buddy waved. “So long, boys,” he called, as though he and the Springfield boys were now best friends.

  Ronald and Anthony pulled away, and it was just Eddie and Buddy sitting on the edge of the lake, staring out over the water, the stars shining brightly in the cold evening sky. “Buddy,” Eddie said quietly.

  “Yeah, star?”

  “Buddy, I really appreciate you stickin’ up for me—”

  “Hey, no problem. That’s what friends do, right?”

  Eddie nodded. “But if you ever do something like that again, I’m gonna have to beat your butt myself.”

  “Ha!” Buddy laughed out loud, nudging Eddie so hard in the shoulder he nearly knocked him off balance. “I’m really scared now. But seriously, Eddie, if one of those colored Union Devils lays a hand on you, I ain’t gonna wait till after the game to pay my respects.”

  “Buddy!” Eddie couldn’t contain his exasperation.

  “Eddie, somebody’s gotta watch your back on Saturday night. This ain’t no ordinary game.”

  “It’s just a basketball game, Buddy. Just another ordinary basketball game.”

  “Just another game? Are you outta your mind? Don’t be kiddin’ yourself, Eddie. It’s Union and Gallatin. There’s a reason why we’ve never played them. This town likes to pretend we got no racial problems, that all the trouble is down the way of Memphis or in Birmingham. But you know there were lynchings right out here by the lake not too many years ago.”

  “Lynchings?”

  “Yep. The KKK strung up a couple of those darkies just for the fun of it.” Buddy rubbed his forehead. “Eddie, that stuff is downright evil.”

  “So what’s that got to do with our basketball game?”

  “Don’t you see, Eddie? Everyone wants to pretend we all get along fine. That the darkies stay in their place and the whites don’t mind and everything is okay. But below the surface, it is like a volcano ready to erupt. Fact is that people are scared. They’re scared our whole town is gonna burn down like the tobacco barn did a while back. Do you remember how we were all scared to go out of the house a couple years ago when that King guy got shot? How the darkies were riotin’ and burnin’ whatever they could? And now, the black school is playin’ the white school . . . for the very first time . . . for the title. There’s bound to be a riot if you guys win, and people might die if you guys lose.”

  Eddie rubbed his sore chin and let out a low whistle. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. To me, it’s just basketball. The sport is the common denominator that brings us all together. Colored or white, it doesn’t matter. It’s just a game.”

  “It’s not just a game, Eddie. Keep that in mind.”

  Eddie started to answer, but the flashing red and blue lights of a police car pulling in behind them interrupted him. The beam of a flashlight hit Eddie in the eyes. “Hey, guys,” a voice called out from the car. “Time to get home.”

  “Get that light out of our eyes, and we’ll get going,” Buddy yelled at the cop.

  The policeman got out of the patrol car and walked down to where Eddie and Buddy were sitting. He had a gun in the holster on his right thigh and a billy club hanging from a clip on his left thigh. He was clearly concerned about trouble, but it didn’t da
wn on Eddie that it might have anything to do with the basketball championship.

  “I should have known it was you, Buddy,” the police officer said. The officer, Brad Connelly, was only a few years older than Buddy, and it was obvious that they shared some history together. He pointed to the cut above Eddie’s eye. “Eddie, someone giving you trouble? Buddy slug you? Some of those darkies hanging around the lake?”

  “No, no, I’m fine,” Eddie said. “We just had a little encounter with a few guys from Springfield.”

  “You should have called me,” Officer Connelly said.

  “What for? We handled it just fine,” Buddy said.

  “Because it’s my job, Buddy.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Buddy said. “Take your squad car and go arrest someone, Brad.”

  “Watch it, Buddy, or I’ll be arresting you next.”

  “Get out of here, Brad. I beat you up when I was ten and you were fifteen, and I can still beat you, even though you’re now the big lawman in town.”

  “All right, you guys,” Eddie said. “Thanks, Officer Connelly. Buddy’s had a rough night.” He smiled and nodded toward the bruises on Buddy’s face. “We were just leaving.” Eddie started toward Buddy’s car. “Can you give me a ride home, Buddy?”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  “Oh, man!” Eddie said.

  “What’s the matter?” Buddy asked.

  “Something wrong?” Officer Connelly echoed.

  “No. I just forgot about my car. Can you drop me off at Missy’s house? I know it’s late, and I don’t want to wake them up, but my car is still parked there.”

  “Better you than me,” Officer Connelly said, nodding toward Buddy. “If I pull into the Hamiltons’ in a patrol car, they’ll be calling out the National Guard.”

  “No problem,” Buddy said. “Let’s go. Thanks for protecting us, Brad.”

  “Buddy, there may come a time when you’re glad I’m around,” he replied. “Especially with all this trouble brewing with the darkies all over the country. Gallatin isn’t immune, ya know. This basketball game may be the spark that lights everything on fire. Keep your heads up and your eyes open.”

  Buddy and Eddie drove in relative silence most of the way to Missy’s house. They were both mulling over the events of the evening as well as their conversations. Buddy slowly drove up the long red-gravel lane leading to the house, trying not to alert the family dogs by making too much noise. Eddie’s car was the lone vehicle parked outside the house, under a light post.

  A pang of regret hit Eddie as he remembered how pretty Missy had looked earlier in the evening. “Thanks for the lift, Buddy,” he said. “Catch ya tomorrow sometime.”

  “You betcha, Eddie. Get some rest. It’s going to be a big week.”

  Eddie got out of Buddy’s car and walked over to his own. He looked up toward Missy’s bedroom window before getting behind the wheel. Her bedroom was dark, as was the rest of the house.

  When Eddie opened the car door, the inside dome light came on, and he spied something shining on the ground. Eddie knelt down to look more closely, and when he saw the source of the reflection of light, he nearly burst into tears.

  On the ground lay his class ring and the new gold chain he had given to Missy earlier that evening. It looked as though it had been stomped into the mud. Eddie lifted the ring and chain out of the mud, wiped it off on his shirt, and dropped it into his pocket. I guess I’ve blown it, he thought. Sometimes doing the right thing doesn’t feel so right.

  24

  PRINCIPAL HERRON STIRRED IN HIS SLEEP, awakening as he turned over on the bed. He blinked open his eyes and noticed that his wife, Susan, was moving around uncomfortably as well. “Susan?”

  “Hmmm?” Susan turned over on her side, her hand searching for her husband.

  Principal Herron gazed at his wife in the semidarkness. A classic Southern belle, Susan looked beautiful in her peach-colored, high-necked silk nightgown. “Susan?” he whispered. “Are you awake?”

  “Nuh-huhh,” she mumbled.

  “Did you hear something outside?”

  “Outside? Hear something?” she asked. “No, Dan, I didn’t.”

  “I’m going to look around.” Principal Herron crept out of bed and threw on a robe over his pajamas and slipped his feet into the brown leather slippers he kept by the bed.

  “Oh, no, Dan. Come back to bed.” Susan patted the still warm mattress where her husband had been lying.

  “I’ll just be a minute.”

  She rolled over and closed her eyes. “Okay. Try not to wake me when you come back upstairs, please.”

  “I won’t,” he said. “And I’ll ask the intruder to be quiet as well.” Principal Herron stepped gingerly out of the bedroom and down the hallway toward the room of their daughter, Peggy Sue. He slowly opened the door and peeked inside. Peggy Sue was asleep, looking as innocent and peaceful as ever, lying in her white nightie, one arm draped around a teddy bear. Peggy Sue, an enthusiastic, almost starry-eyed Eddie Sherlin fan, had taped on the wall above her bed a picture of Eddie that she had cut from the sports page of the newspaper. Principal Herron smiled when he saw the clipping, but he scratched his head when he noticed her holding a bright green Sprite bottle close to her lips as she slept. The strict, former infantry colonel would not have been pleased had he known Peggy Sue had bought the bottle from one of Eddie’s sisters.

  But while Principal Herron was trying to figure out the significance of the Sprite bottle, a flickering light outside Peggy Sue’s bedroom window snagged his attention. He heard the sound of male voices and feet running across the lawn and driveway. He closed Peggy Sue’s door and continued down the hall and on downstairs. Without thinking of his own safety, he hurried to the front door, threw it open, and stepped out onto the front porch.

  Even with all his experience in the racially charged community, the sight that met his eyes stunned him. Standing in the center of the Herrons’ front lawn was a large flaming cross.

  Dan quickly assessed the situation, determining that the flames from the cross were not a threat to the porch or to the trees or shrubbery in his front yard. As his eyes adjusted to the flickering light from the fire, he spotted several figures in white hoods and white sheet-like outfits running toward a parked car in the distance.

  One of the figures turned and looked at Dan on the front porch. “This better be a lesson to you!” the figure bellowed.

  “We’re comin’ for you next,” another sheet-covered person yelled.

  One of the figures took off his hood and dove into the driver’s seat. Principal Herron couldn’t make out the person’s face, but he looked a lot like Terry Poster. The engine roared, and the car sped away into the night.

  By then Susan had roused and run downstairs. When she saw the burning cross in their front yard, she nearly fainted. “Oh, God, help us! Who did this, Dan?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m going to call the police right now. Or the fire department. Or both!”

  “No, Susan,” Dan said firmly. “Calm down. We’re okay.”

  By now a large group of neighbors—many of them dressed in only pajamas and slippers, others in robes, and some in overalls and T-shirts—had gathered out in front of the Herrons’ home. Not wanting to get too close, most huddled at a distance—out near the street. “What’s going on?” a neighbor asked aloud to anybody listening, even though he probably knew the answer to his question.

  Some of the onlookers bore scared expressions. Others scowled in obvious outrage. Most displayed a mixture of both emotions. “My Lord!” a deeply troubled older gentleman declared. “What is happening to our town?”

  Others were more fearful. “I can’t believe this!”

  “A man can’t even fall asleep in his own bed anymore without this whites and coloreds stuff spillin’ into his dreams.”

  Many of the women whispered among themselves, “Who did this?”

  Then a man dressed in only pajama bottoms expressed the fear that
was probably in most of the neighbors’ minds. “If they will burn a cross on the Herrons’ front yard, what’s next? Who’s next?” A hushed murmur of agreement swept through the group.

  “But I thought those Ku Klux Klan people were good, godly Christians,” a naive woman said to the man in pajama bottoms.

  “What does it look like to you?” he responded. “Does this look like somethin’ Jesus would do?”

  The woman shook her head and put her hands to her cheeks, acknowledging the truth.

  The neighbor turned away from her and called out to Dan Herron, who was still standing on the front porch. “Hey, Dan! It’s Pete from next door. Y’all okay in there?”

  Principal Herron, his eyes still fixed on the burning cross, had hardly noticed the gathering crowd of neighbors. Hearing his name and the question, he peered into the darkness and saw the group at the end of his yard.

  “Yes, we’re fine,” he called back. “Just a little surprised, being awakened in the middle of the night and all. Yes, thank you. We’re okay. This thing will burn down in a while.”

  “Anything we can do?” the man asked.

  “No, thanks. It’s okay. Go on home. We appreciate your concern.”

  Peggy Sue heard the commotion on the porch and came running downstairs. “Daddy, are you okay?” She ran to her father and wrapped herself around her father. “Mama, what’s going on? Who did this? What does this mean?”

  “It means we have some bigoted, racist cowards in our town, honey,” he said. “That’s all.”

  “I’m going to call the fire department,” Susan said.

  “No, let it go,” Principal Herron told her.

  “Call the sheriff, Mama!” Peggy Sue urged. “And the fire department. We have to put that thing out before it catches the house on fire!”

  “No. No, let it go,” he said. “There’s no danger of that. Don’t worry. Peggy Sue, you and your mama go back inside. I’ll stay out here and keep an eye on things.” He stared intently at the burning cross. “Don’t worry. It will burn itself out.”

  But deep inside the principal knew that what the burning cross represented in Gallatin would not burn out on its own, that the wretched evil it represented would continue to smolder and reek long after the smell of the burning wood had subsided.