More than 44
Phil Wohl
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2009 Phil Wohl
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One
It was the dog days of summer in New York City. Egg sandwiches with American cheese and bacon could have been cooked on the pavement of the concrete jungle, and tempers were boiling in the subway platform heat.
Dave Abrahams was waiting for the number two train to take him back uptown to his apartment on the Upper West Side, but took a minute to submerge back into his favorite high school basketball daydream.
There was five seconds left on the clock and his team was down by one point. The ball was handed to Mike Finnegan at half court and his teammates started running a play, like a key was inserted into a car’s ignition.
Coach Doherty had called for Tony Dorio and Tom O’Malley to set a pick on Dave’s man, but Central High’s Calvin Brown had slipped and fallen down. Dave looked behind himself as the referee’s count on Finnegan reached three. He instinctively came to the ball to relieve the pressure and Jacobs let the ball go.
Brown scrambled to get his feet and banked into Cameron Breslin as Dave drove to the basket. The defender got back to his feet long enough to tackle Dave before he could release the ball. The referee blew his whistle and then walked toward the scorer’s table, “Shooting foul on number 35, green. Number 44, white, shoots two.”
One second remained on the clock as Coach Doherty screamed at the referee for a flagrant foul.
“He wasn’t even going for the ball, Gene!”
The players set up on the foul line and Coach Simpson of Central High leaned over toward the other referee and calmly said, “Time out,” trying to make Dave think about the shots that he was about to take.
The only ice water in this steamy high school gymnasium could be found in Dave Abraham’s veins. He had taken so many foul shots in his driveway and countless gyms throughout Long Island that the process was as routine as brushing his teeth.
“There out of time outs!” Coach Doherty said to the group of five seated in front of him. “When Dave makes these shots we immediately pressure the ball. We’re one second away, gentlemen.” He stood up and looked around the huddle. “This is what we’ve been working for all year… all of our lives! Let’s go get it!”
The buzzer sounded to end the time out and the coach yelled, “Everyone in here!” All 12 players thrust a hand on the pile. One, two, three, HARD WORK!” the team collectively yelled in unison.
Dave started his long journey toward the foul line. It had been 25 years since the team had played for a boy’s basketball championship. The town of Bailey Woods was alive with hope as the referee handed the ball to Dave and said, “Two shots, gentlemen. Relax on the first.”
Dave held the ball in his left hand and rested it against his side. He looked toward the rim and took a deep, long breath. The crowd noise dissipated in his mind and his focus rested unwaveringly on the first shot. He dribbled the ball three times and then bent his knees and released the first shot.
“Swish,” the net sounded like the blast of a cannon, signaling the game was tied at 64. Dave then saw the second shot in his mind before even going into his pre-shot routine. The ball tickled the front rim, brushed against the backboard, and then dropped through the net. The home crowd erupted as Dave backpedaled toward the opposing rim. Central High attempted a last-second shot that fell short into Breslin's hands. The fans rushed onto the floor as the number two train came roaring into the station, bringing Dave back from his glorious past back into the oppressive heat of the present.
He was lucky to board one of the subway cars with air conditioning, although this good fortune was tempered by the overcrowded, sardine-like nature of the car. City living had its advantages, but commuting in the summer heat wasn’t one of them.
Life had gone very well for Dave after graduating high school. His heroics on the court catapulted him to a full athletic scholarship at a local college, where he earned a degree in business and scored over 1,000 points in his four-year career.
It had been six years since college, and ten years since he graced the halls of Bailey Woods High School. Working for a leading financial publisher and making a six-figure income was satisfying, but images of his exhilarating past often overshadowed many of the endless meetings and routine tasks.
He emerged from the 96th Street station and steadily walked through the layers of haze to Whole Foods Market. His fiancée, Haley, had called and left a message from him to pick up dinner. There would be no cooking in their small, one-bedroom apartment on that night.
Dave walked into apartment 21E with his leather briefcase strapped over his left shoulder and a large, brown paper bag cradled in his right arm.
“Hales?” Dave said as he put the bag down on the kitchen counter.
“I’m in here changing,” she said from the bedroom.
A few minutes later, she came out in a pink tank top and a pair of jean shorts. Dave ignored the heat and was instantly turned on by the sight of his barely-clothed fiancée. He quickly approached her, looking for some love and said, “Give me some of that.”
She sidestepped him and whined, “David, it’s too hot and I’m hungry.”
Dave shook his head in disbelief and kept walking toward the bedroom.
“Did you get the mail?” he asked as he struggled to get his moist t-shirt off.
“Yeah, it’s on the dresser,” she replied.
He leafed through a few bills until he came to a letter addressed to him from Bailey Woods High School. Dave tossed his shirt on the bed and quickly opened the letter.
Noise from the other room barely delayed his focus. “Did you get green beans?”
Dave didn’t answer. “David?”
He seemed bothered, “There in the bottom under the stuffed turkey.”
She rifled through the bag, “Got it!”
Dave opened the latter, which read:
Dear Dave,
We are proud to announce that you have been selected to be enshrined in the newly-created, Bailey Woods Hall of Fame.
The ceremony will take place on September 17th in the Dolphins gymnasium.
Please reply by…
“What do you think about a June wedding?” Haley asked as she popped a plate in the microwave.
Dave’s mind had placed him inside the Dolphins gymnasium, so he distractedly replied, “Yeah, it sounds great.”
“So, I should start planning the wedding?” Haley said with a half-smile on her face.
Dave came in with a pair of basketball shorts and without a shirt.
“I haven’t seen you wear those shorts in a while,” Haley stated.
Dave helped her carry the plates and glasses to their small, round table.
“Yeah, I just got this letter from high school,” Dave said as he tried to pass her the letter.
She rolled her eyes, “And?,” she said in a slightly irritated tone.
Dave hesitated and looked at Haley, “Something wrong?”
“Did you hear what I said about the wedding?”
Dave looked confused, “Is someone getting married?”
Haley took a deep breath and replied, “I was talking about our wedding, David.”
The baking sun must have gotten to his head, “We’re getting married?”
The only thing worse than waving a red flag in front of a bull, is to mess with a bride-to-be’s wedding plans. The dinner was pretty quiet after that misstep, and Haley never asked Dave again about his high school letter until he mentioned it a week before the event.
“I’m going to Bailey Woods next weekend,” Dave said as they watched television.
She looked puzzled, “Weren’t we supposed to around the city and pick a place to get married?”
The only thing on Dave’s mind was immortality, not immanent mortality.
He pulled out the letter, which never was more than a few feet out of his sight, and handed it to Haley.
She read through the letter and said, “How come you didn’t tell me about this before?”
Dave thought carefully before he responded this time. “That was the night you first asked me about setting a date.”
She rolled back her mind, “And you said something stupid.”
There wasn’t much each person could say after that statement. A few minutes later, Haley proclaimed, “I’ll get my mom to go with me. She was bugging me to go, anyway.”
Dave nodded his head and realized that Haley wanted to go with her mom all along. She decided to skip an important day in the life of her fiancée in favor of a self-serving activity of her own. Dave also realized that Haley had absolutely nothing to do with his high school exploits, and the day would be better spent around the people that experienced it all, his parents, his friends, and his younger sister.
TWO
Dave looked at the Saturday afternoon ceremony as closure for a great part of his life. He had worked hard and the success that he and his teammates experienced would be something he would never forget.
He felt the adrenaline bouncing around his body the moment he stepped out of his parents Nissan Maxima. The guy in the big meetings talking in business jargon, was instantly replaced by the guy everyone called D.A. The crowd would chant “D.A.” during games and people would greet him in the hallways every day with his initials. The only people in Bailey Woods that didn’t call him D.A. were his parents. They still were stuck in reverse with his full name, David. His mother even went to David Isaac Abrahams, his full biblical-inspired name on occasion, when he upset her.
Dave, his sister Lori and his parents walked in the back door of the school and were immediately handed programs by two female students that had volunteered for the event. There were 100 people being enshrined in this inaugural event and their pictures lined the hallway leading up the gym, scattered with a few black-and-white photos of a few athletes.
In all, there were 25 football players, 25 lacrosse players, 15 baseball players, 10 wrestlers, five softball players, five volleyball players, four soccer players, three field hockey players, one bowler, and three female and four male basketball players over the 50-year history of the school.
Dave stopped at his picture across from the boy’s entrance of the gym. Although he had been seen that particular picture of himself at the foul line before, it held a completely new significance to him now that it was so prominently displayed.
Melanie Abraham pulled out two tissues and handed one to Dave’s sister. Dave looked at his dad, Walter, and smiled. Walter had struggled to fill the gaps once Dave’s college career had ended. He would still travel into the city when Dave played in a corporate basketball league a few years earlier.
It had been two years since Dave played, but visions of the game were still very active in his mind. These thoughts were even more prominent on this special day in the gym he owned for a few years.
The ceremony was simple, with names being called off and athletes, young and old, walking up to center court to receive their Hall of Fame plaques. Pete’s high school coach, William Doherty, was now the school’s principal. He had quickly moved up the chain from athletic director to vice principal and then principal a few months before the current school year began.
The success of Dave’s team had opened the door for Coach Doherty – a door that would otherwise have been bolted shut. The town and the superintendent believed in him, and there was never a shortage of reminiscing when they got together.
Handshakes were the order of the day until the name “Dave Abrahams” was announced by Principal Doherty. Dave rose from his seat and strolled up to the huge dolphin at center court. He hugged his coach, who whispered “You have to give me a few minutes after this is over.”
Dave nodded and turned to go back to his seat, but the familiar chant of “D.A.!” started to ring throughout the bleachers and stopped him in his tracks. He looked into the second row of the bleachers at a few of his teammates, who undoubtedly started the chant to bust his chops. Dave nodded and saluted his buddies before returning to his seat.
The ceremony was followed by a catered reception in the cafeteria, saving all of the honorees and their family from being served by old ladies in hair nets and plastic gloves. Dave was about to sit down with a full plate of food, but he saw his coach out of the corner of his eye gesturing to him in the hallway. He set the plate down and said, “I’ll be right back.”
The hallway outside the gym was always a hotbed of activity for Dave. He talked to many college coaches, broke up an all-out brawl during a game, and even experienced his first French kiss
against a row of lockers outside of the locker room.
Dave stepped into the hallway and shook his coach’s hand, “Thanks for putting this together.”
They started walked, “Well, I had you in mind when I started this process a few years ago. Let’s walk toward my office.”
The new principal continued, “I’m not sure if you have been following this, but we have had four basketball coaches in the past nine years. We also haven’t had a winning season since our team.”
Dave replied, “I knew about the record, but not about the coaching turnover.”
“I still don’t think the people in this town care much about basketball. I would step in, but my contract won’t allow for it,” Doherty explained.
They walked into the main office, located in the front of the school, and then Doherty stepped into his office and pulled a document off his desk.
“We’ve had a real budget battle this past year and this has impacted the district’s athletic department. The National Board of Interscholastic Athletics has sanctioned us to add an additional girl’s program and eliminate a boy’s program. We’ve had 20 or so meetings and the final recommendation hinges on the stability of our basketball program.
Dave was surprised, “They’re going to eliminate the basketball program? That’s not right! What can I do?”
The principal smiled, “I’m glad you feel that way…”
Dave left the principal’s office and took the long way around to the gym. He cruised through the halls until he came upon his locker, number 1032. The locker felt smooth and cool as he ran his fingers over the faded number plate. Across the hall from the locker was the room he first learned about how to successfully rob a house from Mr. Henderson, an aged Social Studies teacher going senile in the twilight of his career.
He passed by classroom after classroom as the memories kept flooding through. While first base was realized near the gym, second base was taken in the 300-wing – with Dave’s right hand against Cindy Brower’s left breast. He was quickly tagged out despite his best base running efforts, which were sloppy but expected for an inexperience tenth grader.
Dave continued to walk through the halls until he came upon the empty gym. The memory of the roar of the crowd echoed in his ears and hugged him like a down blanket on a winter night. This was his home. These were his people. Walking away from a high-paying job in favor of chasing his legacy was a tough sell in the rational world.
Doherty told Dave he would accept his M.B.A. in lieu of a teaching degree, because he could teach business classes once Mrs. Walters retired mid-year. He was also offered the job with a starting salary of $50,000 plus $5,000 for coaching the team. This was roughly half of his current base salary.
School had just started but Principal Doherty needed a decision by the following Monday morning. He needed information so he could go to the board with a loaded gun or an empty chamber. Doherty also gave Dave with one last deal sweetener, which hit him at a level that no corporate expense account or company seats to sporting events could.
“If you do this, we’ve been talking about retiring your number 44.”
There had been only one number retired in school history - number 27 for Ryan Pelfry – who lost only one game as a starting pitcher on the baseball team and eventually went on to win a Cy Young Award while playing for the Toronto Blue Jays.
Dave walked back into the cafeteria, took a deep breath, and then walked toward the table where his family and friends were seated. His high school buddy, Cameron Breslin, was finishing the last of the two plates beneath him.
“Good to see you haven’t lost your appetite, Cam,” Dave said.
“Hey bro, your food was getting cold so I took the liberty of finding a safe place for it,” Breslin replied.
“You might want to get that,” Dave said as he motioned toward the red sauce on Cameron’s right cheek.
“Dude, you’re such a slob,” another teammate, Brian Finnegan stated.
“What’s up, Finns,” Dave said in a somewhat awkward tone of voice.
“Big day, big time. Glad you could come back and share this day with the little people.”
A third teammate stood up as Dave made a move at Finnegan.
“Not here, not now,” a calm Tony Dorio said. “I’ll let you kick his ass later if you want. Dave calmed down as he looked into Dorio’s eyes. “D.A., let’s go get some food.”
Dorio was a year older than Dave and obviously a year wiser. Tony D, as he was called, was always a larger-than-life figure for Dave growing up. The guy was 6’4” when he was 13 years old, but never grew another inch. Although Dave was now two inches taller than Tony, the elder statesman was still the tower of strength and voice of reason.
Dave and Tony walked through the buffet line.
“The ziti is pretty good,” Tony stated. “Not like mom’s but it’s passable.”
“So, how is Mrs. D doing?”
Tony smiled, “She still cooks me meals and does my laundry when I come over. I don’t think she’s caught on, but I usually bring the same stuff over for her to clean.”
Dave put his hand on Tony’s shoulder, “I heard about your dad. Is he doing better?”
“It was a mild heart attack, but he still yells at me to take out the garbage even though I don’t live there anymore,” Tony answered.
“Tony elbowed Dave, “What’s up with you, D?”
Dave sighed as he scooped up some ziti on his paper plate. He looked at Tony, who had a smirk on his face.
“You guys know?” Dave asked in a surprised tone.
Tony nodded, “Everybody knows. They want you back, D.”
“This shit is just wrong,” Dave stated. “We got to talk this thing out.”
“Already have four stools saved for us at O’Malley’s.”
Dave asked, “Tom works at his dad’s bar now?”
“He owns the bar. His dad died last year.”
“Fuck! Mr. O! What the hell is going on around here? Next you’re gonna’ tell me that Kelly Zabriski is a lesbian,” Dave joked.
Tony’s eyes widened as he shook his head.
Dave’s Jaw dropped, “That chick banged half of the football team!
The guys picked up some plastic silverware and headed back to the table.
“Well, now she’s on another team,” Tony said.
THREE
“Why didn’t you guys tell me about what I was coming back to?” Save asked his family as they got into the car.
“Coach Doherty wanted to talk to you first,” his mom said in a voice intended to calm him down. It was the same voice she used after Dave gave up a winning single to lose the Minor League championship when he was nine. Back then, she turned to her son in the back seat after he threw his glove.
“Be gracious in both victory and defeat. You’ll get another chance to show what you’re made of.”
Dave’s father was not as forgiving. He knew that words would only go so far, so he had his son out on the field the next day, fielding ground balls and batting against him. Dad’s advice was more pointed, “They only way to get redemption is to work, not sulk. Sulkers never win, they just complain about things not going their way.”
Back to the present; the 15-minute car-ride home was fairly uneventful until Walter stopped at a red light. Lori and Dave’s mom were chatting back and forth about some of the people they had seen and Walter turned his head to the passenger side where his son was sitting. He gave him an “It’s time to get back to work” glance and Dave nodded in agreement. The two men had refined a language all of their own over the years, and words never seemed to hold the weight of their deep connection.
Dave had given up his passionate pursuits in favor of a more material life, where making money and talking in nauseating catch phrases like “bring to the table” and “let’s put that to bed” were standard issue. The Starbucks generation had replaced his more comfortable world in Bailey Woods, where everyone knew all of his strengths and flaws and still loved him for it. The city had about as much warmth, aside from glorious Central Park, as an extremely large ice cube.
Making decisions was always a quick process for Dave. He always went by his initial gut reaction, and supported his decision with necessary research. The supporting data on this long day would be uncovered at O’Malley’s Pub. Dave was in the front seat and his three teammates crammed into the back seat. Walter Abraham was driving and sternly said as he pulled up the pub, “If I see one egg on this car, or one roll of toilet paper on a tree of my house, I’m coming after you Finnegan.”
Finns gave Mr. Abraham a look like, “You got me all wrong, Mr. A.”
“I also don’t want you guys calling me at three in the morning,” Mr. Abraham added.
“Yeah, O’Malley has a shuttle bus for drunks like us,” Breslin said.
Dave got out of the car first and said, “Thanks, dad.”
Mr. A turned to the other three mooks and said, “You guys better not fuck this up.”
They replied in unison, “Yes, Mr. A” and then got out of the car.
Tony turned to Dave, “Your dad can be a very scary mother fucker.”
“Tell me about it,” Dave concurred.
It was 7:00 p.m. and the bar was sparsely crowded with regulars and families out for dinner on a Saturday night. As advertised, there were four stools available at the large, semi-circle bar, so the guys stepped up and sat down.
Finnegan saw O’Malley coming out of the corner of his eye and said out loud, “I hear the burgers are pretty good but the fries are soggy.”
Red-headed, Thomas O’Malley, Jr. walked behind the bar with a small towel over his shoulder, looking like a choir boy.
The street thug emerged, “I thought I told you to stay the fuck out of here, Finnegan. Your tab is as long as you think your dick is.”
O’Malley then turned to Dave, “Davie Abie. What’s up you city-slicking, Jew bastard.”
They slapped hands and O’Malley continued, “How about four cheeseburger platters and a couple of pitchers?” He then looked at Dave, “Or would you prefer a New York Strip and a bottle of wine?”
Before Dave could respond, his boys had his back.
“Our boy just got some big fame, you ignorant Mick bastard,” Finnegan said.
“We also brought him here to liquor him up and get him to take over the team,” Breslin added.
“What? The girl’s bowling team?” O’Malley questioned.
Tony D repositioned his chair signaling to O’Malley that he either back off or get the beating of his life.
O’Malley’s mood changed as he said, “I’ll be right back with your food.”
A girl then came out and poured a few pitchers for the guys and set out four beer glasses on top of Budweiser coasters.
Dave said, “I love it that Tony can still scare the shit out of people without even talking.
The glasses were full when Dave said, “Here’s to the Bailey Woods Dolphins.”
“Dolphins for life,” Finnegan said.
“Take it to the grave,” Tony added.
O’Malley came out with a few appetizers and then picked up a glass and toasted with the guys, “Salud.”
The boys said in unison, “Salud.”
The night started as a get reacquainted session, but they moved into more of a free-flowing, game-plan mentality.
“What are you pulling down, hot shot?” Breslin asked Dave as he threw a chicken finger down his throat like a pelican swallowing a fish.
“About a buck and-a-quarter,” Dave replied.
Finnegan nearly choked on another fried offering, “Fuck! And you’re gonna’ leave all that for this shitty job?”
Smacks on the back of the head from Tony D and Brian brought Cameron back to his senses.
“Thanks, Cam. But the money part is the least of my problems,” Dave replied.
He took a huge swig of beer to wash down the slop and the wiped his mouth with a paper napkin.
“Didn’t my parents tell you guys that I was engaged?”
Finnegan was the small point guard and floor general, so he called the play, “I divorced my wife because she didn’t like sports.”
Cameron couldn’t resist, “You divorced that whore because she worked at Hooters and was sleeping with half of the customers.”
Brian thought about fighting, but he was about three bars shy of raising his fists. He looked real serious and then smiled, “But she made real good tips.”
The guys cracked up and then Dave asked, “Any of you guys married?”
Breslin stared at a girl behind the bar, “I’m gonna’ marry that girl, but she doesn’t know it yet.”
“You dumb kraut. That girl’s gonna’ marry a brother with a shamrock like me,” Finnegan exclaimed.
The girl behind the bar walked over and started to refill the pitchers. She looked at the guys and said, “I’m standing right over there,” pointing to the corner of the bar. “People in the parking lot can hear you guys talking out your asses. And you!” she said looking at Breslin, “You come in here every week and give me those sad, puppy eyes, but you just sit there and watch TV. What’s it gonna’ be Cameron?”
The six foot two-inch Breslin straightened up in his chair and pushed the diminutive Finnegan to the floor before he could make a wise remark.
“Kathleen McNulty, will you do me the honor of going out with me tomorrow night?”
She smiled and replied, “Cameron Breslin. I would be honored, but make it tomorrow afternoon because I work at night.”
Finnegan got up from the floor but Breslin knocked him down again for good measure. The guys were yakking it up until their shooting guard, six foot Tom O’Malley, reached under the bar and pulled out a weathered Louisville Slugger baseball bat. He held the bat in his right and slapped it on his left palm.
“She’s my cousin, Cam. Fuck with her and I’ll rearrange that pretty face of yours.”
Cam nodded and then the guys returned to their eating.
Finnegan staggered back to his seat and asked O’Malley, “Hey, brother. Do you have any other cousins?”
Tom smiled and replied, “Do you mean cousins that work in an office and don’t wear little orange shorts and white tank tops?”
There was no room at the bar for taking yourself seriously. In fact, the only thing there was room for was imagination and hope, two things that had been sorely missing Bailey Woods since the boys graduated high school. Together, they were a seamless machine that operated with incredible efficiency. But apart, they had struggled to regain any level of satisfaction they had previously attained.
Near the end of the night, Tony was prophetic when he asked, “Have we left our best years behind us?”
Dave took another swig of beer and offered his two cents, “If we did it once, there’s no reason that we couldn’t do it again.”
“Are you in?” Breslin asked.
Dave looked at the other four guys, “Only if you guys are in with me.”
Finnegan was wasted, but he excitedly interjected, “I’m in!” and then Cameron knocked him down again.
Tony said, “Get up you little bastard and get your hand in here.”
Right hands were placed on top of each other from all angles.
“On three,” Tony said. And then the boys yelled, “One, two, three, HARD WORK!
FOUR
It was hard work getting up the next morning and making the long trek back into the city. Instead of taking him to the train, Walter Abraham suggested that he drive his son back into the city. Dave needed to have a man-to-man talk with his dad, anyway.
“Three fifteen?” dad asked son.
“It would have been closer to four if they didn’t drop me off first,” Dave replied.
“Everything go Ok?”
“Did we have a good time? Yeah, we always have a good time when we’re together.”
Walter was never one to skip around an issue. “So, have you made a decision?”
Dave wanted to tell his dad but leaned toward the conservative approach. “I have to talk to Haley first.”
Dad looked over at son with a no bullshit grin, “So, you’re taking the job?”
Dave smiled and replied, “Yeah, I’m gonna’ take the job."
“You know. Coaching is a lot different than playing,” dad counseled.
Dave asked, “What do you mean?”
“Do you think it was always easy coaching you and your friends over the years?”
Walter would coach the guys during the summer in leagues and was never shy about giving his input to Coach Doherty, who had no choice but to appease his star’s father. The elder Abrahams was also was a wealth of basketball knowledge, so having an extra pair of educated eyes benefited the team, but sometimes put a strain on the relationship.
Dave’s dad really wasn’t interested in discussing how Dave would approach his fiancée with such a potential life change. Haley had a plan in mind: marriage, move to Westchester, kids, play groups, spending uncontrollably, comfortable retirement in Arizona. Dave’s plan was much simpler and more direct: WIN!
It was about 4:30 in the afternoon by the time Walter pulled up in front of Dave’s apartment building.
“Call us when you get a chance,” Walter said as he showed some emotion in his face for a change.
Dave had never seen his father cry, or show much weakness at all except for spontaneous anger. The prospect of his son returning to their glory days gave Walt moist eyes like the end of the movie “Field of Dreams.”
Walt got out of the car and hugged and kissed his son.
“Thanks for driving me back, dad. I’ll see you in a few days.”
Dave slung his bag over his left shoulder and started walking to his building. When he left Friday night, the first thing he did was turn off his cell phone. That damn thing never seemed to give him a moment’s peace.
He walked through the front door, which was held by Michael the doorman, and instantly saw Haley getting out of the elevator.
She spotted him and said, “David! There you are!”
Directly behind Haley was her meddling, annoying, divorced mother, Constance, or Connie as she was called. Dave had another “c” word that he called her in his private thoughts.
They approached Dave and he gave Connie the same air kiss that she supplied.
“My mom and I were going out to get a bite to eat. I left you like 10 messages. Did you forget to bring your phone?”
Dave lifted his phone out of his pocket and replied, “I had it all weekend, but I forgot to turn it on.”
The women gasped.
“How was your school thing?” Haley said as she was putting the finishing touches on her coffin.
“My school thing was just fine. Why don’t you go ahead to the early bird special without me. I’m gonna’ go up and take a shower and relax.”
“Do you want me to bring you back anything?” Haley asked.
“Nah, I was kind of in the mood for Ray’s. I’ll take a walk down the block later.”
“Ray’s?” Connie said in her most effected phony accent. “Is that the new soul Asian fusion restaurant?”
“No. I was talking about Ray’s Pizza on the corner.”
The women gasped again.
Haley gave Dave a peck on the cheek and said, “Toodles. I’ll fill you in on the place we found later.”
“Those chocolate ganache pancakes were to die for,” Connie said as they started walking away.
“Yeah, I especially liked the one…” Haley said as their voices faded into the distance.
Once they were gone, Dave turned to Michael and asked, “Does she ever say thank you?”
Michael was hesitant to slip out of character.
“C’mon Mike. I’ll be gone in the morning,” Dave implored the doorman to speak frankly.
Miguel, a proud thirty-something Puerto Rican man in a white man’s world broke down and said in his best Hispanic accent, “To tell you the truth, jefe, that bitch is cold. Hace frio, my brother.”
The guys exchanged a brotherly handshake and a chest bump, and Dave was off to gather his things. Three hours, two slices of pizza, one meatball hero, and three beers later, Haley stepped back into the apartment and was instantly confused.
“David! What is all your stuff doing in the living room? I don’t believe we scheduled a fall cleaning.”
Dave came out of the bathroom, fresh off a major deposit, spraying profusely with awful potpourri-scented air freshener.
Haley waved her hand in front of her nose and said, “Can you spray a little bit more?” She then looked over to the pizza box and commented, “Do you know how many calories are in that stuff?”
He came out of the bathroom with a look on his face that she had never seen before. It was the sort of defiance that men had to leave at the door if they were to be with a Ziegler woman – or at least that’s what Haley’s mom said – but that was probably before her father left her mother for another, more accepting woman.
“What happened to you this weekend?” she said in a disgusted tone.
“I saw my future.” Dave replied.
“What does that mean? Did you meet another woman?”
He muttered, “That would be a real stretch.”
“Well, did you sleep with one of those loose Long Island girls?” Haley said in a preachy, scolding manner.
He was enraged, “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
She stepped toward him and wagged her right index finger, “Don’t you take that tone with me, mister!
The beer was definitely talking when he said, “Haley, there is somebody I’d like you to meet.” He pulled down his shorts and let them drop to the floor, “Haley, this is my penis. Penis, this is Haley.”
She switched from anger to desperation when the thought of no wedding crashed into her like a wayward bike messenger. The fake, caring Haley emerged, “I found a great place for us to get married inside of Chelsea Pier.”
Dave pulled up his shorts and quickly put at end to such matrimonial talk, “I’m quitting my job first thing in the morning so I can go back to Bailey Woods and take over the team.”
She was frantic, “Quitting your job? What team? I feel faint.”
He said, “You don’t love me anyway.”
She regained her composure while seated in the tub chair, “What’s love got to do with it?”
Dave nodded his head, “Exactly, Tina Turner. It’s everything.”
The discussion went on for the next half-hour until Haley finally gave up. Dave put his left hand out and demanded, “The ring, please.”
The warmth of the day had swelled her left finger a bit, but Haley begrudgingly forced he ring off her finger. She started crying as she handed him the ring, but his heart had already grown cold.
“Everything happens for a reason,” he said as he slipped the ring into his pocket.
Dave went into work the next day expecting to give his notice that he was quitting. There was a buzz in the air as he reached his office at 8:00 a.m. One of Dave’s office friends, Jim Morton, walked in and said, “So, what are you going to do?”
Dave was in the dark, so he replied, “About what?”
“About the merger.”
Dave was still searching for the switch to turn on the light, “What merger?”
“Where were you all weekend? I called you 20 times?”
Dave finally turned his phone on – the readout informed him that he had 45 messages. He then turned the phone off.
“Oh yeah, Haley told me you had that high school thing,” Jim explained.
Dave did a double take, “What were you doing talking to Haley?”
“I couldn’t get in touch with you, so I called her number.”
“How did you get her number?” Dave asked.
Jim scrambled, “You must have given it to me.”
The light finally went on in Dave’s head, “You’re sleeping with Haley?”
“C’mon, Dave! Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Who do I talk to so I can get the fuck out of here? Get the hell out of my office and send that person in here, now, before I lose my mind!”
A few seconds later, a Human Resources specialist named Tammy walked in:
“What can I help you with, Mr. Abrahams?”
Dave cut to the chase, “We’re getting bought out?”
She replied, “Yes.”
“Are they offering packages to leave?”
She smiled, “Yes, I hear they will.”
“Send a check to this address,” he said as he scribbled down an address and then handed her a piece of paper.
“It might take a few months,” she added.
Dave smiled and replied, “No problem. Thank you.”
FIVE
Haley was one of the farthest things from Dave’s mind as he left work and visited his cousin, Ari, on the 47th Street Diamond District. Ari had made the ring and he would surely give him fair value for it in return.
Ari opened the negotiations, “What did I charge you for this?”
Dave replied, “I think it was about 15.”
Ari inspected the ring and said, “It’s in perfect condition. Almost looks like she didn’t wear it. What happened?”
“The glass slipper didn’t fit after all. I’m going home to coach the team.”
Ari looked up and smiled, “Ah! Mazel Tov! Finally something happens in New York that makes sense!” he paused for a minute and then continued. “You know I can’t give you back what you paid for it. How does nine sound?”
“How about 10?”
“Ninety-five hundred,” Ari countered.
“Done,” Dave stated.
Dave knew that his cousin had given him an insider’s price initially, and would probably resell the ring for $20,000. A few minutes later, Ari emerged from the back with a thick envelope filled with 95 crisp one-hundred dollar bills.
“You might want to run this over to the bank. You’re a big guy, but stranger things have happened,” Ari explained.
The two guys hugged and Dave was off to move some money around. His first stop was Citibank, where he withdrew half of the $20,000 in the joint account with Haley and removed his name from the record, as they had decided. He then walked down the block and opened a new account at Chase.
Dave’s city experience ended with his renting a small U-Haul truck and toting his possessions back to Bailey Woods. Although his dad had volunteered to pick him up, Dave knew he would have to go solo on this life-changing experience.
The 35-inch flat screen TV and the accompanying surround sound system was his; Dave brought up his old 27-inch TV from storage and put in the apartment in its place. He moved all of his stuff into the truck and then took a quick shower before leaving the apartment. Dave then dropped his key off at the front desk and then went over to Ray’s to get a few slices of pizza before hitting the road.
Dave picked up his phone and dialed.
“Good afternoon. Bailey Woods High School, how may I direct your call?”
Dave smiled, “Principal Doherty, please.”
“Who may I say is calling?” the receptionist asked.
“This is Dave Abrahams,” he proudly stated.
“Oh, Mr. Abrahams. He’s been expecting your call. Please hold,” she excitedly replied.
Dave folded a slice of pizza and took a huge bite.
A few seconds later, Principal Doherty picked up the phone, “Dave! What’s the good word?”
Dave drank some Sprite to wash down the pizza, “Hey, coach! The truck is backed up and I’m heading home!”
“That’s great news!” Doherty exclaimed.
“Yeah, I’m excited about the opportunity!”
“So, when can you start?” Doherty asked.
“Well, I wanted to find a place first. I love my parents but they turned my room into a workout room,” Dave explained.
“A friend of the program has a brand new town home you can rent,” Doherty said with a smirk on his face.
“A friend of the program? You really planned all of this stuff out. Impressive. I’ll be there with the moving truck in a few hours.”
“I’ll make sure he’s there with the key at five o’clock. Can I expect you at work tomorrow at seven a.m.?”
Dave smiled, “It’s Coach D’s famous full-court press. I’ll tell you what – I’ll stop at IKEA on the way home and pick up a bed, a couch, and some other furniture. Why don’t you have your friend meet me at six-thirty? Where is the town home?”
Doherty explained, “It’s just off Main Street, a few blocks from O’Malley’s. The address, believe it or not, is 44 Dolphin Drive.”
“That’s freaky. Thanks, coach. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The New York real estate market had cooled, but it was still hotter than most markets on their best day. Steven Brady, the twelfth man on Dave’s team, had become a small-time real estate developer in Bailey Woods.
Steve began his career as a realtor and worked his way up the real estate chain right after college. His first investments were in houses he bought, fixed up, and then flipped for a sizeable profit. In recent years, he had turned to real estate development. When Coach Doherty called to fill him in on the details, Brades felt that he could finally make a real impact on the team. He loved Dave and his teammates and would do anything he could for his coach and his team.
Meanwhile, Dave was flying around IKEA in Hicksville like Superman on an interior decorating spree. Couch, bed, dining table, small entertainment center, bathroom rug, towels, an anything else that wasn’t nailed down and could fit into the truck. He then raced across town and was motoring past O’Malley’s Pub when he saw a grounded sign that read, “WELCOME HOME, D.A.!” Bailey Woods was a large Long Island town with a small-town feel. News traveled fast as fast as e-mail, and it always felt like the gossip-mill present in high school was alive and kicking in the adult world.
Dave turned left on Dolphin Drive and drove all the way down the block until he located the last unit on the left, number 44. He peeled himself out of the U-Haul and walked up the concrete path toward the front of the door. Dave knocked on the door and it opened slightly – he stepped inside and yelled, “Hello?”
“Up here!” a muffled voice exclaimed from the bedroom floor.
Dave walked up the stairs and stopped short of the top stair, as he was greeted by a familiar face.
“Brades!” Dave said excitedly.
Steve stepped forward and shook Dave’s hand, “David, welcome home!”
Steve Brady was one of the few people that used the name “David,” being that the two guys had grown up a block from each other and went all through school together. Steve was always by Dave’s side and it was known that the two guys were a package deal – if Dave was picked for a team, then Steve would also be on that team.
The same held true for the Bailey Woods Varsity Basketball Team – wherever Dave went, his friend Steve would probably be a few steps behind.
“I saw you on CNBC a few weeks ago,” Steve said. “I thought there would be no way we could bring you back.”
“Is this your place?” Dave asked.
“Yeah, I won units 40 through 44.”
Dave walked around, “Stainless appliances, cherry cabinets, quality tile floors and carpets. You really did this place right.” He then pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Steve. “Here. This should cover rent for a while.” Dave kept walking and Steve looked inside the envelope, which housed $7,500.
“I was going to charge you $750 per month, with the first month on the house. Let’s just call this the first year’s rent and the security deposit, which will be applied as a down payment if you want to buy it.”
“Thanks, Brades. So, it’s a two bedroom with two bathrooms?”
“Yes., it also has an attached two-car garage,” Steve added. “You also get a complimentary membership to the clubhouse, which includes pool and workout room access.”
Dave came back into the living room area and looked his old friend in the eye, “We have to get to work tomorrow.”
“I know.”
Dave put on his game face, “Unstoppable.”
The diminutive, bespectacled Brady replied, “Hard work,” and the two old friends hugged.
Steve hadn’t seen much of Dave since the big guy was the best man at his wedding two years earlier. That was about the time that Dave met Haley, who had effectively cut him off from his friends.
“Did your girlfriend make the trip?” Steve asked.
“We were engaged. That envelope I gave you was most of her engagement ring.”
“Sorry to hear it,” Steve politely said.
“I’m not,” Dave stated.
Steve nervously smiled, “Yeah, me neither.” He then flipped Dave the keys and asked, “You need some help unloading your stuff?”
“I might just take the bed out, put it together and call it a night,” An exhausted Brad said.
Steve put two fingers from each hand in his mouth and whistled. The front door opened and ex-teammates and other townspeople carried Dave’s stuff in like a well organized pack of ants. Within ten minutes all of his stuff unloaded and a guy named Chris James walked in with another set of keys.
“Is the truck’s going back to the rental place on Harris Road?”
“Yeah,” a pleasantly surprised Dave answered.
James continued, “All right. I’ll take care of that and you can drive this until you come into James Ford and get another car.” He flipped Dave a set of keys and then said, “We’ll be sure to give you a good deal. Good luck,” he said and then shook Dave’s hand before leaving.
Dave read the plastic tag on the keychain that identified the car as a Ford Mustang GT Convertible. “Good choice.” He looked around the room, “Thank you, everyone! How can I repay you all?”
The room was quiet until Dave said, “Let’s go get a few rounds at O’Malley’s on me!” There was a widespread roar throughout the town house as Dave’s furniture and clothing quickly founds its place.
Dave was home again but this time, he felt the weight of the town was going to be shared by all. He had missed his friends… he had missed his town… he was home again.
SIX
A few drinks and a burger later, Dave walked back to his new home and passed out on the queen-sized bed at about 10:00 p.m. His internal tank was usually full after about six hours of sleep, but this night he slept a solid eight.
A shower and a shave, then a quick spin in the convertible had Dave pulling into a space in the teacher’s parking lot at 6:45 a.m. He walked through the back door of the school, and was struck by how peacefully quiet the school was. The gym lights were off but the east sun was starting to filter through the upper glass blocks and huge blue drapes.
Karl the janitor walked in and started cleaning the dirt off the floor with his large maroon broom.
“Karl, is that you?” Dave said across the gym.
Karl had recently turned 65 and his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be – but he still knew what he was looking at.
“David Abrahams, is that you?” Karl said as Dave walked over and shook his hand.
“Coach said you’d be back today. Just wanted to make everything right – it’s been a long time since anyone cared.”
“We’ll see what we can do about that,” Dave stated with all of the optimism of a grade-schooler.
“I’ll come back and finish up later. Good to have you back, coach.”
Dave walked onto then main court and under the basket closest to the hallway – he stretched his right arm toward the sky and grabbed the net with his right index finger. It felt good to be back doing what he loved for people he genuinely cared about.
He was trying to make a good impression on his first day, but wearing a business suit only made him stand out in the land of leisure suits and flammable fabrics. This setting was as far as possible from any boardroom, but he wanted to show the proper respect afforded any new job.
Dave walked into the main office at 6:55 a.m. to the delight of Martha, Principal Doherty’s secretary.
“Oh, there he is! We were just talking about our favorite son!”
“Good morning, Mrs. Graves,” a respectful Dave replied.
“You’re going to have to call me Martha,” the 54 year-old divorcee, and mother of one of his classmates, pronounced.
“That’s going to take some getting used to,” an awkward Dave replied.
Just then, Principal Doherty walked out of his office, “They made you dress like me, too?” the dapperly-dressed administrator quipped. “This is the only air-conditioned room in the building besides the teacher’s room. You better get used to dressing down a bit.”
Dave walked up to his coach and shook his hand, “It’s good to be back.”
They walked into the hallway as Martha said, “Good luck, David.”
“Thanks Mrs…. I mean, Martha,” Dave awkwardly replied.
“This is all going to come at you very fast, so I’m going to try to slow it down as much as possible,” Doherty explained.
The two men walked through the halls, which were starting to fill up with teachers and early-arriving students.
Doherty continued, “I’m going to pair you up with another new hire. This will give you both a chance to reacquaint yourselves with your surroundings. He turned into Room 215 and there was a tall, well-built woman writing on the blackboard. She turned her head and then did a double-take, before walking toward them.
“Dave Abrahams, this is Sarah Lindman,” the principal said.
The two met in a handshake before it clicked in Dave’s head, “Hey! You’re that girl that broke all of my records. How’s your brother Tim doing?”
She replied, “Yeah, but it took me three years to do what you did in two, and we only won half of our games.”
“A record is a record,” Dave stated.
“I was a sophomore when you were a senior,” she said. “My brother is doing great. His wife just had twin boys.”
Doherty chimed in, “Do you remember when I paired you up with her during your senior year? She was about four inches shorter back then.”
“Wow! That was you? You’re a lot taller and you’ve filled out nicely since then.”
She blushed, “Thanks.”
Principal Doherty looks at them, “Normally I would warn new employees of our sexual harassment policy, but I’ll let this one go.”
Dave looked at the blackboard and said, “Health?”
“That’s what they call it, but I want to call it Life Tools.”
“Yeah, we’ll talk some more about that,” Principal Doherty, the old Health teacher, stated.
“What class are you going to be teaching?” she asked.
“Business.”
“Oh right. I saw you on TV a few weeks ago. Didn’t understand a word you said, though.”
“Dave’s going to apprentice under Mrs. Walters until she retires in December,” Doherty explained.
“How many games did the girl’s basketball team win last year?” she asked.
Doherty replied, “I think they won a couple.” He turned to Dave, “She’s our new coach. And by the way, your team hasn’t won a game in three years.”
“Looks like you got your work cut out for you,” she ribbed.
“Don’t you know there’s no ‘u’ in team,” Dave replied smiling at his coach. “We’re going to have to go back to the beginning. There’s no sense dwelling on the past.”
“Why don’t you two take a seat,” Doherty said in his most nurturing voice.
He removed two thick booklets from the inner breast pocket of his jacket, and then handed each of them a book of rules. “I would read that county basketball rule book from cover to cover. You two know the game better than anyone else I ever met, but these books take it to another level. I’m going to give you a few days to look it over and then we’ll talk about the particulars. You can’t move ahead with your programs unless you know these rules cold.
Dave and Sarah nodded as Principal Doherty started walking out. From the doorway he said to Sarah, “You’ll walk Dave to Mrs. Walters’ homeroom.”
He then looked at Dave, “Dave, good luck son. We’re glad to have you back.”
Doherty disappeared into the hallway and Sarah turned to Dave and asked, “You wanna’ get together after school?”
“Three-thirty in the gym,” Dave countered.
“Did you bring a change of clothes, because I have some new moves,” she stated.
“Yeah, I have a bag in the car. But I have to warn you, it’s been a few years since I picked up a ball.”
“Well you can read and I’ll shoot.”
“Deal,” Dave replied.
“Let me take you back to meet Mrs. Walters.”
Dave asked, “What is she like?”
Sarah smirked, Remember that lady with the shopping cart that used to hang out at the park? What was her name?”
Dave thought for a moment, “Crazy Alice.”
“Yeah, Crazy Alice.”
“Are you saying that she reminds you of a bag lady?”
She smiled, “I think you just inferred that. Mrs. Walters doesn’t walk around with a cart.”
Dave laughed and then abruptly stopped, “Wow! It’s gonna’ be a long few months.”
The day went by as slowly as sitting through Mrs. Wallace’s geometry class. Dave used to look out the left bank of classroom windows and watch golfers approach the eleventh hole of the Kennedy Memorial Park golf course. Thankfully, Mrs. Walters’ classroom also faced the same hole, because listening to her endless views on textbook business were ringing in Dave’s ears like a continuous school bell.
Dave might have been a renowned expert on Wall Street, but he was quite a novice in the classroom. He usually spoke about advanced topics but wasn’t as well versed in describing basic concepts. That was where the 25 years of work experience for Walters would come in handy.
Later that day, Dave walked into the locker room to change his clothes. Bruce Watkins, the boy’s soccer coach walked through and stopped when he saw Dave.
“You must be Dave Abrahams. I’m Bruce Watkins, boy’s soccer and volleyball coach.”
They shook hands and Watkins continued, “I’m not sure if you know this but we have our own locker room downstairs.”
“When did they put that in?” Dave asked.
“A few years ago. They moved and updated the boiler room, so we took over the space.”
Dave thanked Watkins and then walked downstairs past the varsity locker room and down the half-lit hallway to a room marked “Coaches.” He opened the door, leaving the sparse setting of the typical public school basement. The room was complete with carpeting, comfortable chairs and couches, plus carpeting, dry erase boards, and state-of-the-art audio-visual equipment. On one side was the women’s locker room and the other was the men’s locker room. It was more like being in a deluxe health club than a school basement.
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