As our team endured a very competitive and grueling season, we continued to be successful. From time to time, I would think about the sacrifices that we all made in all the off seasons to get into shape and condition our bodies for the long haul. I was also reminded of the summers we spent playing pick-up basketball in order to improve our skills.
One particular memory involved Guillermo and me. During the summer months, Coach Goodwin and Coach Henry would open our high school most evenings so that we could play pick-up games. Formal summer drills and practices were a violation of high school basketball rules.
Most of our team would show up as well as other high school players from the nearby high schools. It was a highly competitive and mostly low-key endeavor; however, it was clear that we were all there to hone our craft as well as to display our skills to our competitors looking forward to the coming season.
Each game, we would play to 21 points and the winning team would stay on the court until they lost. It was quite a feat if a team stayed on for 3 or more games. It was a badge of honor, skill and courage to achieve any sort of winning streak. At our high school gym there was only one court. Since most evenings attracted many players, we would divide the full court and have two half-court games going on at one time. We would play 4 on 4, rather than the traditional 5 on 5 games to keep the half court from being too crowded and give players some room to maneuver. The games were run with “make it, take it rules,” in that if your team scored, you kept the ball for another opportunity to score. This rule made defense all the more important. To win consistently, your team really needed to work hard defensively.
That final summer of our high school careers, Guillermo and I developed a routine that involved playing basketball in the evening and then going to Guillermo’s house to have a late dinner. The dinner usually involved making a huge sandwich of white bread, mayonnaise, and a large slab of sliced avocados (heavy on salt and pepper, with an occasional fried egg added to the mix).
We devoured those sandwiches almost daily unaware of the tremendous number of calories we were consuming. Though we burned off many calories while playing, we had no idea how many calories we were replacing in our bodies. For much of the summer, we were mystified that we were both gaining weight. Previous summers we found ourselves trying to keep our weight up during the summer.
This summer it was difficult to understand what was happening. Fortunately, one evening I went to visit Lucinda at the diner after our avocado sandwich feast.
Lucinda asked me how my day went and what I had for dinner. I mentioned the ingredients to her.
Lucinda said, “Oh my God! How often do you eat those sandwiches?”
I replied, “Almost every night.”
She said, “You’ve got to be shitting me? Both you and Guillermo eat those most every night?”
I said, “Yup, why?”
Lucinda said, “Wait here.”
When she came back, she returned with a cook from the back, Oscar. She asked Oscar to repeat what he said to her.
He said, “I am amazed you don’t weigh a thousand pounds. Do you realize how many calories are in sandwich of white bread, mayonnaise and avocados?”
I said, “No, I don’t know how many calories are in anything.”
The cook said, “Jesu Christo!” and walked away.
Lucinda said, “You guys are fat idiots.” I left quickly, unwilling to hear anymore.
Later I called Guillermo and told him about my conversation with Lucinda at the diner and he was as stunned as I was.
When we got back to the gym the very next night, we asked Coach Goodwin to weigh us on the scale in the towel room. It appeared that I had gained about 10 pounds since the end of last season and Guillermo had gained almost 12 pounds. None of it seemed to be good weight. It had gathered around our midsection as well.
As usual, Coach Goodwin didn’t have to say another word, he just gave us his usual silent look of disgust and disappointment when he disapproved of our conduct. Appropriately embarrassed, Guillermo and I did not make another avocado sandwich the rest of the school year.
By the time the season began we had worked very hard to lose the weight and get in the proper physical condition which we need to seriously compete in our final season.
Despite our poor culinary habits that summer, we continued through a very long winning streak that continued into our District games to determine who would play for the Bi-District (City) championship. That eventual titleholder would continue onto the regional tournament in Abilene and then, if victorious, the state championship tournament in Austin.
With our success and all the time, intensity and focus it took to continue our quest, there was little time to think about what had happened to my family and make sense of its secret. I found myself very troubled but had no time to process it. I was a little resentful that this secret was discovered in the middle of a very important time in my life. But I felt strongly that I couldn’t let academics or basketball take a back seat to the family drama at hand.
Most of the time, I was in disbelief and denial that it even happened or that Silvia was correct that she saw my half-brother. With those unknowns I could pretend it was all a dream. Some of my friends and teammates did not believe any of it and had said all along that I was imagining the whole thing, as they had never actually seen me even talk to the stranger. Sometimes, I even wondered if I had imagined him and his advice as a way to get me though everything.
Though we were winning, I felt quite unfocused and not at my best. Our team was really good, but I felt that I wasn’t pulling my weight or contributing as much as I could. Sometimes I even thought that our team-first approach was ruining the chances of anyone on our team getting good offers to play college basketball. We rarely heard of any college coaches, scouts or alumni coming around showing interest.
Though we had climbed into a top five ranking in the State of Texas high school polls, we weren’t really being taken seriously even in our own District.
It was during one of our toughest games yet, against our rivals from across town, that everything came to a head. The score was tied with just seconds left on the clock, and the pressure was palpable. I could feel the weight of my family secret pressing down on me, distracting me from the game at hand.
As we huddled up for the final play, I tried to focus on Coach Goodwin's words of encouragement, but my mind kept drifting back to Silvia's revelation and the mysterious stranger who may or may not be my half-brother. Was it possible that he was at the game, watching me play without my knowledge?
The buzzer sounded, signaling the start of the play. Guillermo passed me the ball, and I made a quick move to shake off my defender. With a clear shot at the basket, I hesitated for a split second, unsure if I should take it or pass to a teammate with a better angle.
But then, in that moment of uncertainty, a voice echoed in my mind, sounding familiar yet distant. It was the same voice that had guided me through tough decisions before, the one that had whispered words of wisdom when I needed them most.
"Just believe in yourself," the voice said, and suddenly everything became clear. With newfound confidence surging through me, I released the ball with a flick of my wrist, watching as it sailed through the air towards the hoop.
Time seemed to stand still as the ball made its descent, each heartbeat echoing loudly in my ears. And then, with a satisfying swish, the ball went through the net just as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game.
Cheers erupted from our side of the court as my teammates rushed to congratulate me on the game-winning shot. But amidst the chaos and celebration, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me from afar, someone who knew more about my family than I did.
As we made our way back to the locker room, I had an uneasiness that lingered. The victory should have filled me with joy and satisfaction, but instead, it only fueled my growing curiosity about the stranger who might be my half-brother.
I decided to confide in Guillermo about my doubts and fears as we changed out of our sweaty uniforms. He listened intently, his usually jovial expression turning serious as he processed everything I told him.
"You know," Guillermo began slowly, "I've noticed that guy from the park hanging around our games lately. He never sits with the other spectators, always off to the side, watching quietly."
My heart raced at Guillermo's words. Could this mysterious figure be the one I had seen with Silvia that day in the park? Could it be that he didn’t disappear as I had thought? Was he really keeping an eye on me?
Before I could voice my thoughts, the door to the locker room creaked open, and Coach Goodwin stepped inside. His eyes scanned the room, stopping momentarily on me before moving on to Guillermo. There was a look in his eyes that I couldn't quite decipher, a mixture of concern and something else that I couldn't place.
"All of you boys played a hell of a game out there," Coach Goodwin said, his voice gruff but tinged with pride. "That shot at the end? Pure magic. But it took an entire team effort the whole game to get that win. I’m really proud of everyone!"
I nodded in appreciation of Coach Goodwin’s words, but the unease still gnawed at me. It had nothing to do with basketball, it had to do with my family.