“In the Felt Forum, no lie?” Paul asked.

“That’s right.”

“Who’s Mr. Jones?” I asked.

“This cat.” Ox points out the wino.

“You got to be kidding, man,” I said. “This cat’s a wino. I ain’t playing no ball for no wino coach.”

“We got to have a coach, and he’s the only guy that Nesbitt said was okay,” Jo-Jo said. “He said we can’t have nobody young for the coach.”

“Well, all we need is his name,” I said. “Give him some wine and let him find himself a park bench.”

“He got to show for the games, too,” Ox said.

“Man, we need a coach and he’s it,” Paul said.

“Hey, look, I done peeped the cat stoned on the ground in the damn playground, man,” I said. “What do you say, Ox?”

“I got to consult my bird.”

Ox, big as he is, has got this mangy-looking parrot he carries around with him, and I swear he really loves that sucker.

“Hey, Lonnie, I just figured out something,” Breeze called out.

“Come on, Ox,” I said. “You and me are co-captains.”

“Why should you be co-captains?” Paul asked.

“ ’Cause we’re the best.” I said.

“That bird ain’t as dumb as I used to think,” Breeze went on. “That bird is actually a ventriloquist. Ox is the one who can’t talk.”

“Okay, then,” I said, “it’s settled. We ain’t playing for no wino. If Nesbitt don’t want us in this tournament, we’ll find another one.”

“Later for you, man!” Paul sounded off on me. Then he walked out of the gym. I ran after him and grabbed him near the door.

“What’s with you?” I asked. “I ought to punch you out!”

“Hey, that’s what you’re good at, ain’t you?” He stood against the wall. I still had him by the collar, and I let it go.

“What’s the matter with you, man?” I asked. “I saw the man laying on the ground with a bottle of wine so damned drunk he couldn’t hardly get up. This is who you want to play for?”

“No, I don’t want to play for him, Lonnie,” he said. “I want to play for me. Dig it? They got college scouts coming to watch these games. Maybe I can get a scholarship or something. Some guys I was talking to were saying that the white schools are always looking for ballplayers. You can get a scholarship to a small white school even if your game ain’t together. All you got to do is have some kind of a game and be cool. What else am I going to do? I can’t go to no college on my own.”

“What you mean is you want to follow your punk friends to some punk school.”

“If it gets me over, yeah.”

“Just what won’t you do to get over?”

“I’d hate to tell you.”

“What does that mean?” I said.

“Nothing. You going to give the guy a chance?”

I didn’t answer him. I just went back into the gym. The wino was sitting on the floor putting on a pair of sneakers. I took the ball from Ox and dribbled across the floor and made an easy lay-up.