“I knew a cat called Goat that had more moves than Ex-Lax. I knew another guy that used to come down to the park. We used to have those square metal backboards. He could jump up and put a quarter on the top of a backboard, then jump up and change the quarter for two dimes and a nickel. He could shoot, pass, and play defense. When they used to bring the white boys into Harlem to play in the Rucker Tournament, they wouldn’t even let these cats play.”

“If they were so good, how come they didn’t play in the NBA?” I asked.

“One cat couldn’t make it because he had a record; one cat was into dope; one couldn’t make it because someone said that he might have done something. They didn’t like the way one cat looked, he had about three teeth missing. Any old thing. They got a thousand cats like us that can play this game, Lonnie. A thousand guys that have a game and looking for something to do with it.”

We reached an apartment building on Manhattan Avenue, and Cal checked out his clothes in the mirror in the hallway. It was an old building, but it looked all right. Some of the tin was coming off the stairs and there were a few things written on the walls, but nothing too bad. I could tell that Cal was nervous.

“Hey, man.” I was behind him walking up the stairs. “She do know we’re coming, don’t she?”

“Yeah,” he said. “She knows I told her we’re coming. But once I told her I was coming by, and it was a pretty important time, and I didn’t show. So when I tell her now, she just takes it light, you know.”

We got to the top floor and went to one of the apartments and rang the bell. There wasn’t an answer, and Cal rang again. Still no answer. He knocked. Just when I figured there wasn’t going to be no answer, the door opened.

I’ve always figured that if you want to know a guy, you got to check him out with his woman. Some guys are okay until they get around their woman; then they start thinking they’re Superman or something. You can’t say this to them and you can’t say that to them because they think you’re chumping them off in front of their woman. The first time I met Cal was when he was laying in the playground, so I knew he wasn’t no bank teller or nothing like that. He had played ball and had paid some dues and stuff, too. So I figured I knew him. He was a pretty tough guy and wouldn’t take too much off nobody. Then I seen him with Aggie.

He had bought a bottle of wine, the kind you got to open with a corkscrew. Well, she gives him a little peck on the cheek and goes on fixing some supper and talking light talk, and he’s holding the bottle in his hand like he forgot it was even there.