by John Goode
He began to pace as he talked. “People are so quick to say what will keep you out of heaven, but they forget we have guidelines covering how to get in too. He left us a lesson plan, and all we have to do is follow it. Judge not, that you be not judged. Matthew 7:1. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind. And your neighbor as yourself. Luke 10:27. Love your neighbor as yourself. It is right there. Why can’t we see it? You want to say those people are a threat to the church, and I say it’s the people who forgot that last part. Love your neighbor as yourself. You want to talk about who isn’t getting into heaven? What about Romans 3:23? For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. All,” he repeated loudly. “Not just the ones in here, not the ones who are straight, but all. It isn’t our job to say who will and will not get into heaven. All we have to do is the very best we can and let the rest fall to our Father. And I swear to you, he will take points off for pointing fingers at others and telling everyone what they have done wrong.”
The crowd was coming back around now, and I could see they were agreeing with him, myself included.
“So let me start over,” he said, smiling at us as he got behind the podium again. “What is the greatest challenge to the church today?”
I spoke up before I even knew what I was doing. “Love.”
He looked over at me and winked. “See? This young man has it.”
I felt my face grow red as I looked over at Nate, who was looking at me with a huge smile.
“Now let us pray,” he said as we all put our heads down and closed our eyes.
It was the first time I understood what people got out of going to church.
After the service, people were walking around talking to people. I asked Nate if I could go to Father Mulligan and say something. We walked over and waited as he talked to an elderly couple who seemed taken with his sermon. When they were done, he turned to us and looked at me with wide eyes. “Well now, I didn’t know God still made them this big anymore.”
I looked down in embarrassment as Nate said, “Father, this is Danny. This was his first time at a mass.”
“Was it?” he said, sounding pleased. “And what did you think?”
Looking up at him, I felt a million warring emotions in my heart. “I loved it, I really did.”
That seemed to make him even happier, and he clapped my shoulder. “That is humbling to hear, Danny. Nowadays getting to kids your age is the hardest part. If God had a Twitter account, it might be easier.”
I chuckled at the joke. “So how do I do it?” He looked confused. “I mean, what do I do to go to a church? I mean, is there an application or something?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s a lot like buying a good suit. You need to shop around until you find one that will keep you warm, that is comfortable, and most of all doesn’t feel like it’s suffocating you. Every church is different, even though we all have the same boss. He’s pretty lax with the franchise.”
I laughed again. Were all priests this funny? “So I just show up and, what? Ask questions?”
“I bet you there are hundreds of people out there who would love to answer any question you have about God and his plan for you, Danny. All you have to do is ask.”
“I will,” I said quickly.
His face got serious. “I’m not going to lie to you, Danny, it isn’t easy all the time. God asks a lot of us, and all we can do is endure. Some people think church is just a social thing to see friends and to feel better about themselves, but if you’re serious, if you want to really do it, it will take some work.”
“I’m not afraid of work, sir,” I said, thinking of how hard I worked to be good at basketball.
“Neither is he,” he said, pointing up. “What you give, he will repay a thousand times over.”
Nothing in my life had felt this right before, and I was almost giddy with emotion. Overcome, I reached over and hugged him. “Thank you so much for talking today.”
I felt him hug me back and say, “No, Danny, thank you for listening today.”
And that was when I became religious.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
B.E.E.F. (BALANCE, EYES, ELBOW, FOLLOW-THROUGH)
THE COACH yelled to me on the sidelines, “Monroe, are you even listening?”
Indeed I was not even listening. I was too busy looking across the court at the end of my world and wondering how I got there. No, scratch that, I knew exactly how I got there. I was actually wondering how to get the hell out of there.
I had been trying to will my heart to stop beating for most of the game so far, but no dice.
Nodding at the coach, I tried to force myself to pay attention to the game. After all, this was the playoffs for State. I was a senior and about to graduate, and all I could think about was how badly I’d screwed everything up. That and how hot he looked.
It had started out such a good season too.
Since I was a senior, no one even blinked when I was named team captain; in fact, it was expected. I had a dozen guys looking at me asking how they were going to win State this year. Fortunately I had an answer for them. BEEF.
No, not like meat, B.E.E.F.
It stands for Balance, Eyes, Elbow, and Follow-through. It was the technique they taught me in Germany when I was first learning to play, and I realized we all needed a refresher in the basics. That summer break we all headed up to Austin. The coach had booked us a week of basketball camp, where we were all taught the game again from the ground up. Most of the guys needed it, because they had learned to play the game on the court. They hadn’t gone to any school or had special lessons in it. It was a game you played with a ball and a hoop, and that was it. The tactics behind the game were a mystery to them, and they needed to solve it. I needed it because I was badly out of shape. Not in regards to my body—I had gone back to working out like I used to—but my skills on the court needed some help. I hadn’t played with a real team in almost a year, and from the way I was tripping all over the court, it showed.
That and the fact that my hip would not let it go.
It’s not like it always hurt or anything, but it did not seem to share my love for basketball. I knew this because after any game, it screamed at me for at least an hour, no matter how long I iced or applied heat to it. I began downing Advil like it was candy, telling myself to just man through because there was no time to worry about a little bit of pain.
I so wished it was just a little bit of pain.
After the camp we began to really gel as a team, and it was an epic thing to watch. What had started out as just another group of high school guys was slowly becoming a unit. We all became obsessed with getting better, and for a couple of perfect weeks, we weren’t just a basketball team but a band of brothers. We ate, talked, and slept basketball. It was the center of our universe as the summer shambled slowly toward fall. But for the first time in forever, I wasn’t hesitant about the coming school year. I was eager for it.
I was ready for this season.
The first few games, we blew past the other team so badly that they might as well have been junior high kids. By the third game, there were college recruiters in the stands, and they were all watching us. I had never been so proud of the team. They didn’t get cocky, they didn’t get overconfident, they didn’t let the wins go to their head. We had one goal collectively and that was winning State this year. Nothing else mattered. We ran as a team in the morning, our breath fogging with the early chill as we lapped the football field again and again. No one talked, no one complained. We all ran in unison, knowing in our mind’s eye we could see the same finish line.
The only other thing I did during this time was go to church.
Nate had been right about faith: it was everything. I read the Bible, which was okay, but honestly contradicted itself more than it made sense. I listened to the youth pastors who spoke to us every weekend, and one cold Sunday morning in the middle of August, I was
baptized as the sun broke over the dark sky. I had never felt so at peace in my entire life. I worked out, I went to school, and each night I prayed for God to allow me the strength to win this year.
By the middle of the season, I had come to realize someone up there was listening to me.
We had lost one game, and the crowds were getting larger and larger. It made us popular, but I have to admit, I didn’t pay attention to it. I was too busy with homework, running, and reading scripture to worry about something as silly as popularity. My dad noticed the difference and brought it up during dinner one night.
“So what’s up with you?” he asked as I gnawed at a chicken leg while skimming over my trig worksheet. I gave him a questioning look, and he gestured to the books on the table. “With you, all you do is work. I haven’t seen you go out once since you went to Dallas.”
A shadow crossed my mind when I remembered meeting Sam and all that nonsense.
“I’ve been busy,” I said, dismissing the ghost of Sam’s smile. “I want to win this year.”
“Well, yeah,” he said, trying to get my attention back. “But, Danny, all work and no play makes one a dull boy.”
I glanced up at him. “Whoever works his land will have plenty of bread, but he who follows worthless pursuits lacks sense.”
He gave me a look. “Did you just try to Bible me?” I looked down. “You did, you seriously tried to Bible me with verse and crap.” He got up and tossed his napkin on the table. “Okay, you’re done,” he snapped, closing my book.
“But I have to finish…,” I began to protest.
“I’m sure it’s due later this week, which means you have time now,” he said, making it obvious he had no patience for me trying to convince him. “Get up, get changed, and we’re going out to do something.”
“Like what?” I asked, wondering if other kids had this problem.
“Anything but schoolwork or reading the Bible,” he replied, grabbing our plates. “Go,” he said, seeing me still standing there. “I’m not kidding, we’re going out now.”
I grumbled as I stomped off to my room and changed.
When I got out, he had put on a windbreaker and was checking his phone. “You have a choice between minigolf, bowling, or a movie, but I warn you, there’s nothing good playing.”
“Dad, I’m fine,” I said, sitting down to pull my shoes on. “Seriously, I don’t need—”
“Minigolf. Bowling. Movie,” he repeated firmly.
“Bowling,” I said, choosing the least of the three evils.
We ended up at a local bowling alley, renting shoes and finding a lane. My dad’s shoes fit perfectly, and he was ready to go in minutes. I, on the other hand, was not so lucky. I had just turned eighteen, and I was now six seven in bare feet, bare feet that were a size sixteen. The guy behind the counter thought I was joking when I told him my size, but when he leaned over the counter to look at them, he realized I wasn’t. He gave me the biggest pair they had and wished me good luck getting them on.
I wasn’t going to need luck. I was going to need some kind of shrinking potion.
“Dad,” I said, with my heel still out of the shoe. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
He looked down and hid the smile on his face with a hand. “That’s what you get for having clown feet.”
I gave him a dirty look just as I heard a female voice behind me say, “You can bowl in your socks.” I turned around and saw a girl who looked familiar. “My friend is weirded out by wearing other people’s shoes, so she always just bowls in socks.”
“I know you,” I said, not realizing how stupid that sounded.
“I’ve seen you on base at the chapel,” she replied. “We’re in the same youth group.”
Now I didn’t just feel stupid but stuck-up, since I hadn’t noticed her at all. But truth be told, I wouldn’t have been able to ID anyone from that group. I had been so focused on school and the season that I hadn’t even tried making friends.
“I’m Danny,” I said, holding my hand out.
She kind of laughed. “I know, I’m Emma.” Her hand looked so tiny in mine that I felt like I was going to crush it. “Is that your brother?” she asked, looking at my dad.
My dad was looking for a ball so he hadn’t heard, and I laughed. “That’s my dad, but please don’t tell him he looks young enough to be my brother. He’d never let me live it down.”
“I’m here with some friends,” she said, gesturing a couple of lanes down. “If you guys want to bowl with us, it’s cool.”
“I’ll ask my dad,” I said hesitantly. “I’m not sure if this is like a bonding thing or we’re here to actually have fun.”
She laughed again, confused. “Okay, well, if you decide to join us, that’s cool.”
“Who was that?” my dad asked, watching her walk away.
“She’s in my church group,” I said, confused by the way I was so confused.
“Pretty girl,” he said, putting his ball down. I looked over at him, and he shrugged. “What? She’s attractive for a girl her age, just a fact.”
I gave up on the bowling shoes and went over to find a ball. When I came back, my dad kept glancing over at Emma and her friends. “You know, if you want to go hang with them, it’s okay,” he said, smiling.
“You wanted to come bowling. I can’t just ditch you.”
“No, I wanted to get you out of the house before you went nuts. You interacting with kids your own age in a recreational activity is, like, the whole point of tonight.”
I looked over at them, and Emma smiled and waved. My hand waved back before I could stop it.
“Go on,” he insisted. “When a pretty girl waves at you like that, it means she wants you to come over and talk to her. Trust me.”
I looked at her and then back at him. “You sure?”
“Oh, just go!” he said, shaking his head. “Before I push you over there.”
Taking my ball, I walked—well, more slid—the of couple lanes over to where Emma was sitting. “Room for one more?”
Her face lit up, and she nodded. “Guys, this is Danny. He goes to my church.”
I waved and smiled, trying not to feel like I was invading their night.
That was how I ended up realizing I wasn’t completely unattractive to girls. Emma admitted after a few times of going out with friends that she thought I was cute but never had the nerve to talk to me at church. At first I was shocked because cute was not the word that popped into my mind when I thought of myself, but that was followed by the fact that I didn’t instantly reject the idea of liking her back. I mean, it wasn’t fireworks or the same animal urge I’d had when I saw Sam, but she was a nice girl, and I liked hanging out with her.
And at the time, it was exactly what I needed.
Emma’s dad was in the Navy and stationed on base as well, so we had a lot in common when it came to always being the new kid in town. She went to a different school in town, which made sense, since my dad had chosen my school because it was the high school that took basketball the most seriously, not because it was nearby or the newest. Emma had picked a different school. I liked having a girlfriend. It was comfortable to be able to put my arm around someone and have them tell me they thought I was attractive. She had been raised religious and was reserved when it came to sex, so she was thrilled to find I wasn’t in a hurry to get into her jeans.
The only person who didn’t seem happy about Emma was Nate.
“A girl?” he asked me over Skype. “Did I miss something?”
“No,” I said, trying to laugh the question off. “Maybe I’m bi and not gay. You ever think of that?”
He just stared at me through the computer screen for a few seconds. “I never thought about it at all, dude, because you like guys.” He saw the look on my face and sighed. “Look, Danny, if you’re really into this girl, that’s cool, and I’m all behind you, but if you’re doing this to cover something up, then you’re an asshole. That girl really likes you, and you�
��”
“I do like her,” I said quickly.
Too quickly.
“Okay, cool, man,” he said, a little dismissive. “If you like her, that’s awesome. I’m happy for you.”
“You don’t sound like it,” I shot back.
His eyes locked with mine through the screen. “That’s because I’ve seen what it looks like when you really like someone.”
My mouth went dry, and I started to feel queasy.
“Okay, I need to finish this homework,” I said, looking away from my laptop.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Talk to you later.”
“Sure.” And he logged off.
I ignored him and began dating Emma.
The season only got better and better. There’s something about having someone in the stands cheering for you who isn’t your dad that makes you want to do better. Emma and her friends started coming to games and cheering for us, and I found myself playing better for them. It was about this time that recruiters started approaching me about college. The first was from Oklahoma, and they offered me a trip up to their campus to look around and see if I liked it. I was blown away, but my dad said to try to calm down and wait. They wouldn’t be the only ones.
He was right.
As the season progressed, different college recruiters came knocking on my door, so to speak, each one trying his best to convince me their school was the best fit for me. The amount of effort these guys put into trying to convince me just to go to their school to look was staggering, and I was overwhelmed.
My dad, on the other hand, was completely whelmed by the attention and fielded the offers as they came in. It was like a dream come true as brochures started to litter our kitchen table. One night he just stood there and stared at them all, a huge smile on his face, as I felt a warm glow in my chest that I had done it. I had finally done something that made him proud of me.
The fact that all these colleges were watching made me play even harder.
As each game passed, we got closer and closer to State, the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. I trained harder, prayed more, and just hoped I had enough to get what I wanted. Emma was supportive as hell. She was stoked to be dating “a real live basketball star,” as she put it. I didn’t want to get a swelled head from all the attention, but it was getting hard not to. Every week there was an assembly in the gym, and the entire school cheered us on. There were signs with my name on them. For the first time in my life I was someone, and it felt great.