Cover

Also by Jacqueline Woodson

After Tupac and D Foster

Behind You

Beneath a Meth Moon

Between Madison and Palmetto

Brown Girl Dreaming

The Dear One

Feathers

From the Notebooks of Melanin Sun

Harbor Me

The House You Pass on the Way

Hush

If You Come Softly

I Hadn’t Meant to Tell You This

Last Summer with Maizon

Lena

Locomotion

Maizon at Blue Hill

Miracle’s Boys

Peace, Locomotion

Dedication

for Toshi Reagon and everyone else
who ever once loved
the game

Part 1

1999

Memory like a Movie

The memory goes like this:

Ollie’s got the ball and he’s running across my yard when

Dad comes out of nowhere,

soft tackles him to the ground.

Then everyone is cheering and laughing because

we didn’t even know my dad was home.

I thought you had a game, I say, grabbing him.

It’s a half hug, half tackle, but

the other guys—Darry and Daniel—hop on too

and Ollie’s escaped, so he jumps

on top of all of us jumping on my dad.

Yeah, Mr. J., Darry says. I thought we’d be watching you on TV tonight.

Coach giving me a break, my daddy says. He climbs out from under,

shaking us off like we’re feathers, not boys.

Ah man! Darry says.

Yeah, we all say. Ah man!

Sometimes a player needs to rest, Daddy says.

He looks at each of us for a long time.

A strange look. Like he’s just now seeing us.

Then he tosses the ball so far, we can’t even see it anymore.

And my boys say Ah man, you threw it too far!

while I go back behind the garage where

we have a whole bunch of footballs

waiting and ready

for when my daddy sends one into the abyss.

Everybody’s Looking for a Hero

Once, when I was a little kid,

this newscaster guy asked me if

my dad was my biggest hero.

No, I said. My dad’s just my dad.

There was a crowd of newscasters circling around me,

all of them with their microphones aimed

at my face. Maybe I was nervous, I don’t remember now.

Maybe it was after his first Super Bowl win, his ring

new and shining on his finger. Me just a little kid,

so the ring was this whole glittering world,

gold and black and diamonds against

my daddy’s brown hand.

I remember hearing the reporter say

Listen to those fans! Looks like everybody’s

found their next great hero.

And now I’m thinking back to those times

when the cold wind whipped around me and Mom

as we sat wrapped in blankets, yelling Dad’s name,

so close to the game, we could see the angry spit

spraying from the other team’s coach’s lips.

So close, we could see the sweat on my daddy’s neck.

And all the people around us cheering,