There was no way I was going to fall for some jive about no pro coming to a rinky dink gym to watch us practice. I figured that the wino was stringing us along with his bull, and I was just waiting to catch the sucker. I knew he was a phony, but I hadn’t peeped his bag yet. He could have been a freak or into some antipoverty scam. Whatever it was, he was being cool with it, but there was no way I was going to trust the dude, no way. Still, I wanted to find out just what he was up to, so I went to the practice. Only I’m not about to put on no sneakers and run around for this dude.

I’m checking him out. He’s telling guys how to set picks and how to switch and stuff like that. And he acts like he knows what he’s talking about, but that’s no big deal because you can pick that up from reading a book. Meanwhile, there ain’t no pro showing up. Everybody’s running around, listening to this cat Cal like he’s their daddy or something and keeping one eye on the door as if God Himself is going to come in any minute, which I figured was about as likely as having any pro come in.

“You going to sit there, or don’t you think you’re good enough to play this man’s game?”

The sucker was on my back again. This dude just kept on pushing and pushing. Sparrow, Ox’s parakeet, made a sound, and I asked Cal if he was talking to him. He didn’t say anything; he just turned away and kept on with the practice.

He worked out a play, too. I checked the play out and memorized it.

“Okay, now, everybody gather around,” Call called out.

They all gathered around.

“I want everybody to come up with fourteen dollars for uniforms,” he said. “We’re going to get red and green uniforms. I want you to put your money in an envelope. On the outside of the envelope you put your name, your size, and the number you want. Make sure you all have different numbers, too.”

“Hey, man, ain’t that the Sweet Man?” Ox pointed across the gym, and I turned to see where he was pointing. It was Sweet Man Johnson himself coming towards us. My mouth just dropped open. Except for the bag he had over his shoulder, he looked just like he did on television.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late for the practice,” he said, “but I had to drop Webster’s woman off at a bookstore. Sorry.”

Cal introduced everybody to the Sweet Man, and then he said he wanted to see one of the plays again.

Everybody got excited and ran themselves ragged practicing that play. I felt pretty stupid because I didn’t have my sneakers. They ran through it about three times before Cal called it a day. Couple of the guys came over and shook hands with the Sweet Man.