Johnny Hunter
Page 16
“Then you agree I should quit?”
Gray Man rubbed his chin for a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”
Johnny shook his head. “But, Gray Man…”
“Wait, Hunter, let me speak first. I am oldest in this council. When I say you should be a Cheyenne first, I mean that. However, you cannot deny that the white man exists. He is everywhere, like the grass on the prairie or the sand on the desert far away. We are but a few grains of sand in a sea of whites. You must stay Cheyenne, but you must use the white man’s ways when they are better.”
“What are you saying?” Johnny asked. They were walking slowly now, circling back toward the school.
“I’m saying that we will need teachers and lawyers to aid our people and to inspire our young ones. If it takes basketball to get your education, then you should play basketball.”
“But what about my father?”
“The problem with your father was that he wanted to forget that he was an Indian. I think you can succeed in the white world but only if you’re true to yourself and your people. A Cheyenne must always be a Cheyenne first.”
Johnny felt the lump in his stomach start to dissolve. He could feel a heavy load being lifted from his shoulders.
“Oh, Grandfather, your words sound like the cry of a hawk to me. I love basketball and even school, and now I can do both and still learn from you.” He hugged the old man, a wide smile on his face.
“You will not quit, then?” Gray Man asked, patting him on his back.
“No, I’ll never quit!” Johnny shouted. He spread his arms. “I’ll never quit!”
“Hurry,” Gray Man said. “Run to the school and get dressed. You must show the Crow how to play today.”
Johnny hugged Gray Man once more and ran down the hill as fast as he could. He entered the school and raced into the locker room.
Goodheart tossed him his uniform as he tore off his shirt. “Hurry up, superstar. It’s almost game time.”
Johnny’s heart pounded excitedly as he slipped the blue and gold jersey over his head. “It feels great, Coach, like old times.”
“See you up there.” The coach limped through the door and up the stairs. Johnny heard the crowd noises when the door opened. His heart pounded faster.
He finished putting on the uniform and ran up the stairs and into the gym. Tom-toms pounded from both ends of the court. At one end the red and gold Warriors from the Crow Indian School gathered in a circle around their coach. The Crow cheerleaders were screaming and the drums pounded, filling the gym to the rafters with noise. Sara Pretty Feather gave him a smile that warmed his heart.
Johnny ran into the blue and gold Chiefs circle. Behind the bench sat Father McGlothlin and Johnny’s mother, clapping their hands for him. His mother was smiling and crying at the same time. Richard Amos sat next to her, looking sadly at the basketball players. On the bench behind them, James and Mary Pretty Feather sat next to Mike Willow, cheering and shouting for their team.
“Okay, boys,” the coach said. “Let’s play together and we’ll be all right. This is the big one for us, so give it your best shot. How about a quick prayer?” He put his hand in the middle of the circle and the Chiefs clapped theirs on the top of his. “Hail Mary, pray for us,” he prayed.
The referee blew the whistle three times to hurry them up. “Play hard on defense and we’ll be okay!” Goodheart shouted. “Johnny, you’re starting at guard. Go get ’em.”
His mind still dazed, Johnny shook hands with the Warrior players and lined up for the center jump. Because he had missed so much practice, he had not expected to start the game. For some reason, he looked at the gym door as it opened. Gray Man, his face still painted, slipped inside and stood next to the bleachers. The old man had never been to a game before.
The ball went high for the center court jump and the Chiefs’ center flipped it to Johnny. He grabbed it on the run and dribbled toward the basket, just ahead of a Warrior defender. He slowed, faked to one side, and banked the ball off the backboard. It rolled around the rim and fell through the net.
Johnny looked at his grandfather as he ran back up the court.
The old man jumped in the air, clapping his ancient hands in joy!
THE END
Richard has a life-long interest in Native Americans and their culture. As a boy, he always played the Indian in cowboys and Indians. He has been writing since high school, producing short stories, poems and novels. He is a graduate of Xavier University and took creative writing courses at the University of Cincinnati.
A Vietnam veteran, he resides in Cincinnati. He is currently working on his next novel.