Midnight Basketball

"Get back on the horse. That's my advice. So what if you fell off? It happens all the time."

"I didn't fall off, Kelli, I got bucked off and stomped on!"

"Okay, so you got thrown. I'm not saying I know what it would be like to come home and find my husband in bed with my sister, but I can imagine it and the pain that goes with it. But you can't just give up. You're not a quitter, Janna. I know you better than that."

Unlike Kelli, Janna Reese wasn't married, but she had come home unexpectedly one day to find her boyfriend in bed with Blake Allen, her former best friend. The sense of betrayal was overwhelming and the hurt beyond description. She'd been so sure he loved her, and she knew she loved him. Then again, she thought Blake was the one person on earth she could trust with absolute certainty in any situation. Even now, just the thought of what she'd seen nearly a year ago still made her sick to her stomach.

At 25, Janna was the youngest woman ever elected to the city council in Seattle, Washington. In spite of her electoral victory, she'd never felt more alone and it wasn't just because of the loss of her former boyfriend and her best friend. Unlike the rest of the city council members who were all liberal Democrats, Janna was more of a Libertarian who'd run as a moderate Republican and gotten elected last Fall. Her positions on issues created unending conflict with the rest of the council leaving her feeling isolated and alone.

She was passionate in her point of view and held steadfastly to her principles because to her, honor and integrity were everything. In the world of politics, she'd seen very little of either virtue, and that had served as a large part of the reason she'd run for office in the first place. Since arriving, she'd seen neither honor nor integrity.

Four of the other council members were women and none of them could be called attractive. Matronly or distinguished might possibly apply, but that would be the kindest thing anyone might say about them. In stark contrast, Janna was an incredibly attractive young woman and being so photogenic hadn't hurt her in the election last November. She was 5' 7" tall and weighed somewhere around 115 pounds. She had dark, shoulder-length hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that could both charm and disarm nearly any man and not a few women.

She was pleasant, positive, and hopelessly optimistic about the future—except when it came to her own. She knew these feelings were temporary and that she would indeed eventually get back on the proverbial horse and ride again, but for now her outlook was anything but positive. She'd never gone this long without someone in her life and while she could continue to provide for her own um...satisfaction...that simply wasn't much of a substitute for the real thing.

She vowed that this time she'd find the qualities of honor and integrity in a man before agreeing to a first date let alone getting involved. As each week passed without the real thing, that promise became more challenging, but then all she had to do was envision what she'd seen in her bedroom and her resolve—and patience—were fully back in place.

"I have a job to do, Kelli. For now that's more than enough. We have so many problems in this city I feel like I don't even know where to start most days." Her words were true as there were a ton of issues to deal with. While they were true, they left out what Paul Harvey used to call 'the rest of the story.' She'd love to get back on the proverbial horse but she'd be damned if she'd do so with guy just because he was attractive or even nice. Not this time.

Her executive assistant, an older woman named Kelli Miller, had known Janna for years and knew she was right. The budget was in disarray and due for review, unfunded liabilities in the city's pension plans were threatening to bankrupt the city, they needed more police officers, but public transportation also need help, and the public school system was an outright disaster. There were also never-ending infrastructure projects and a 'go-zillion' other things requiring her attention.

Just once, she wished the solution to a problem—any problem—would just walk into her office. Janna laughed not because something like couldn't happen, but because she was a cold, hard realist who knew the odds against it were astronomically high.

Kelli decided to give it a rest—at least for now—and told Janna, "Don't forget you have the public forum meeting at one o'clock. There's an interesting topic on the agenda called 'The Midnight Basketball Project' that looks interesting. It says it requires no funding. That should make you happy." Kelli smiled knowing how Janna felt about citizens pitching some 'great idea' to the council then letting them know how much money they'd need to implement said great idea.

Her morning flew by and she was lucky to get a few bites of turkey sandwich she'd packed and a cup of coffee before the council convened at 1pm. They heard two proposals in the first hour, both of which required money the city just didn't have. Even so, Janna felt certain the council would vote unanimously—less her dissenting vote—to fund them and worry about where the money would come from later. Except that they wouldn't worry at all. They'd just vote to spend the money and not give it a second thought.

Next up was someone named Nathan Walker. "Oh, right, the midnight basketball guy," she reminded herself. "Someone who's not asking for a handout. This should be interesting," she thought cynically as she watched him approach the microphone. "At least he won't be hard to look at," she also said silently to herself. He looked to be around 40, but he was still an exceptionally attractive man made even more so when smiled; something he did often during his short presentation.

"Thank you giving me a few minutes of your time," he began. He spent less than ten minutes outlining what he wanted to do and the only thing he was asking from the city was for some additional eyeballs from the police. "Just please ask the chief of police to have them to keep on eye on the four courts I'll be refurbishing. Until we can win the confidence of the people who live in these neighborhoods, they won't feel any sense of pride in the courts, and they could very easily be vandalized. So as they patrol the neighborhoods, it's important for them to take a careful look and make sure no one is doing anything to destroy this project before it can grow roots. If we can get this program up and running, I believe we can continue it indefinitely. As I said, I'm providing the initial funding and later on I still won't be asking the city for any financial support. I will however, be asking you to help out by assisting me in holding an occasional fundraiser and perhaps solicit donations." He paused then said, "Of course, only if you feel this is benefitting our community."

He closed by saying, "I haven't lived here for the last 22 years. I've been very fortunate in my life, and I want to give something back. If we can even keep a few kids out of gangs, off drugs, and on the straight and narrow it'll be well worth it. Sometimes they just need an alternative to the temptations that are out there. Basketball isn't the only answer and it certainly isn't the answer for everyone, but we have to start somewhere and we have to try. Like I said, if we can save even a few kids, it's time and money well spent."

There was a smattering of applause from the handful of people in the room who were either reporters, other people making presentations, or a very small number of interested citizens.

Nathan Walker was a 1994 graduate of Auburn High School who'd gone on to graduate from the University of Washington four years later. He then served as an F-18 pilot in the U.S. Marine Corps for nearly 17 years. Because of the glut of officers on active duty after the war in Iraq ended and Afghanistan largely wound down, majors and lieutenant colonels with 15-19 years service were offered early retirement.

Major Walker loved flying and the Marine Corps, but this opportunity for early retirement was too good to pass up. He had a very good friend he'd served with who flew for a civilian charter airline company and as soon as he learned Nathan was retiring, he set up an interview for him. He'd been hired immediately, trained on the Gulfstream jets he'd be flying, and had already logged over a hundred hours as a co-pilot all within a year of leaving active duty.

Walker had never been married, and until recently had no interest in settling down for two reasons. The first was the constant deployment schedule. After flight school he'd been deployed for seven of his almost seventeen years on active duty and for him at least, that was no way to raise a family. The second was that he was as good looking as they came and he saw no reason to limit his interaction with the fairer sex to just one woman. His only restrictions were: no married women, no enlisted women, and they had to be over 18 and living away from home. Even with those three 'no-nos' in place, he was rarely without female companionship for any length of time with the exception of those very long tours of duty in Muslim countries.

Even now, he'd already enjoyed the company of two cute, younger flight attendants, an attractive young female police officer who'd pulled him over for speeding in his black Corvette (she'd let him off with a warning thanks to his amazing smile and even thanked him for his service before writing her number on the back of the warning citation), and an elementary school teacher he'd run into one evening when he went out for dinner when he hadn't even been looking.

"Does the council have any questions for me?" he asked after closing his presentation.

"I do," he heard the youngest member of the group say.

He smiled at her and waited for her question.

"You say you won't be asking for funding and yet you plan on refurbishing four different basketball courts. Since this project is called 'midnight basketball' I'm assuming it will take place well...around midnight. I can't say for sure, but from what I know, most of the lights around those courts have been broken and may not even work. So while it's very generous of you to pay for the materials to resurface and repaint the courts, how do you propose to get the lights repaired and working? Surely you can't have that kind of spare change under the seat cushions wherever you live."

"Thank you for your question, councilwoman...." He couldn't quite make out her name because of the lighting.

"Reese," she said supplying the name.

"Yes, thank you, Ms. Reese. Through my current job, I was able to meet the chairman of the Seattle power co-op and he assured me that if I follow through and actually refurbish these courts, he'll fund the expense of getting the lighting back up and running on as many courts as we can refinish. The co-op will even install lights if we fix up a court that never had them."

There was murmuring and a few smiles among the other members of the council and even Ms. Reese smiled. "It appears you've done your homework, Mr. Walker. Please let us know if we can help in any way." She paused for effect then added, "That doesn't involve money."

She got a dirty look from the most liberal member of the council but Janna ignored her the way she did anytime she could, and being ignored annoyed the older African-American woman to no end. She was the senior member of the council and its chairperson and she didn't much care for this young upstart. The fact that she was gorgeous and at least nominally a Republican disgusted her and she made no effort to hide her feelings.

Before he left, he handed each of them a proposed schedule of work letting them know how he planned to proceed and what he intended to accomplish and by when, along with his contact information.

Walker had the next three days off work and planned to use all of them to get as much done as he possibly could. He got to the first court at 7am in a small truck he'd rented, and began by picking up trash. When the area was functionally clean, he used a gas-powered trimmer to cut any weeds or grass that had grown up around the court. Lastly, he used a leaf blower to get rid of the dust, dirt, and anything else on the court's surface.

He put those tools away then carried two five-gallon cans of MultiCover™ Acrylic Resurfacer out next to the court then went back to get a long-handled rubber squeegee stick he'd use to evenly spread the coating. Lastly came an old pair of rubber boots to keep from ruining the shoes he was wearing and he was ready to get to work.

Satisfied the surface was clean, he poured out enough of the acrylic resurfacing liquid to cover a small patch of the court then carefully smoothed it out. He did one small area after the other until the entire court was as smooth as glass. Okay, it was as smooth as black asphalt, but it looked incredible. He couldn't wait to see how it would look after painting it green then spray painting a white perimeter around it along with the half-court line, the two keys, and their free-throw lines.

After lunch, he finished a second court and did the same thing the following day. He was relieved to see the first two had at least made it through one night without being vandalized or damaged.

This second day, a couple of teenage boys came over and watched from afar. "You guys want to help out?" he asked.

"What are you doin'?" one of them asked.

He explained it to them then said, "I could use some help. I can't pay you but I'll buy you lunch at any fast food place you want if you do a good job."

"For reals?" the other kid said.

"Yep. For reals." Walker had some extra poles and rollers as well as boots hoping this very thing might happen. Getting kids to help meant they'd be invested in the project and investment tended to correlate with pride of ownership.

He showed them how to paint the surface by dipping the heavy-nap rollers into the paint tray then slowly and evenly applying it. "Just work systematically. One row at a time and overlap like this as you go." He showed them how to do that too, then handed them their equipment. "You guys can take that can of paint and start on the other end and we'll meet in the middle."

The entire court was painted in just over two hours but they had to wait for the paint to dry before they could proceed. "You guys can help me do another one while this one dries IF your mothers say it's okay. If you don't want to or can't, I'll be back in a couple more hours to make good on the lunch offer. If you stay here, do me a favor, okay? Don't let anyone else walk on the paint until it's dry."

The boys chose to stay, and Walker returned two hours later as promised knowing he still had half of that court left to paint by himself. There were now four other boys there along with the two he'd met. Walker introduced himself and told them it was time to take care of the out of bounds lines, etc. "Anyone know how to snap a chalk line?" he asked. No one nodded. "Okay, watch me."

As he showed them, he folded in some math as he explained parallel and perpendicular lines as well as perimeter vs area as they held his chalk lines and snapped down the string so the lines would be perfectly straight.

"This shit is dope!" one of the kids said as a thin, purple line appeared on the green paint when the line was snapped the first time. Walker didn't correct him for using profanity. He wasn't their father and this wasn't a school. But if he could win their trust, then he might just be able to exercise some positive influence over them and offer them a better alternative.

Before they finished painting the bright white lines, a half dozen other kids had wandered over to see what was going on. When it was done, there was a lot of excited chatter about playing round-ball or who was gonna be the next Lebron James.

Walker called everyone over behind one of the old, beat-up backboards and said, "I'm fixing up three other courts. If you live here, this one is yours, okay? But it's not done yet. Tomorrow, I'm putting up new backboards, rims, and nets. Oh, and I'll be supplying brand new basketballs. Sorry, you can't keep 'em, but I'll be bringing them when I come out here."

"Da-yum!" he heard one kid say. Another called out, "That's tight!"

"That's not all. After that, we're turning on these lights again and you can come here and play ball instead of hangin' out with the guys your mothers stay up late worrying about."

There was some nervous laughter as it was obvious these kids knew who he had in mind. "Life is about choices, right? I'm trying to give you an option here. But if you let other kids—anyone—come in here and ruin what we're building—that's on you. I don't live here. You do. This court is yours and even if you didn't help out, you can still take pride in it."

He looked around and said, "Now this important, okay? If you see someone stealing a net or getting ready to tag the court (he didn't need to explain that 'tagging' meant graffiti), don't go drawin' on the them." He also knew he didn't have to explain that meant pulling out a weapon. "And you don't beat their...butts." More laughter. "You just let them know this is your court here in your house. Look, if you guys don't take care of it, who will, right? Oh, one more thing. I'm not gonna try and make you like or even trust the cops, but they're keeping an eye on your court, too. So even if you don't like them or trust them, cut them some slack, okay? Or at least try to. Believe it or not, they're on your side. I'm not preaching to you now. I'm not wearing a collar. I'm not your father or your big brother. I'm just a guy trying to give you a choice. What you do with it is up to you."

One of the larger kids said, "You need any more help?"

"Yeah, I do," Walker said. "I'll be back her tomorrow with the backboards. I could use a couple of strong backs. Can you be here early?"

"Oh...how early we talkin' 'bout?" the kid said. Everyone laughed.

"Eight o'clock," Walker said.

"In the mornin'?" he asked.

"Um...yeah. That's 8am or zero eight hundred as we say in the Marine Corps."

"You was a Marine?" several kids asked.

"Uh-huh," Walker told them.

"How many people you kill?" was the question everyone wanted an answer to.

He'd dropped tons of live ordnance in Iraq and Afghanistan, but that was something he never talked about. All he said was, "Only the ones who tried to kill my fellow Marines.'

He got everyone's attention then said, "Okay, this paint needs to dry so don't let anyone on the court until it does. After that, have it and I'll see you here bright and early tomorrow morning."

Walker turned to walk away and one of the boys said, "Yo? What's your name?"

He looked back over his shoulder and said, "Walker." He grabbed the two boys he'd promised lunch to then loaded them and his gear into the rent-a-truck and headed off to a nearby Wendy's. He spent an hour with the kids talking about his life in the Marine Corps and getting to know them then dropped them off back at the court. From there, he drove back to the court he'd gotten half done where he found another group of kids milling around out of idle curiosity. He gave them the same speech, finished the court, then headed home.

He had a flight at 5pm so he needed to wrap things up by 1pm to give him time to get home, shower, change, and get to the airport.

To his surprise, the big kid was there along with a half dozen other kids. "Wuz up, Mr. Walker?" the big kid said.

"You! You're up," he told him. "What's your name?"

"Jamal." Walker did a fist bump with him and asked if he was ready to go to work.

The metal posts were still in good shape and in less than two hours both new white, metal backboards were up with new orange rims in place. "Okay, I need a volunteer to put up the new nets," he said when it was time.