Byrds in Boots

            Sometimes professional basketball players make it look easy. Too easy. So easy that the unsuspecting fan might forget just how difficult it can be to shoot a ball through a hoop.

            I was watching a lot of basketball. Too much basketball. So much basketball that I somehow convinced myself that I too could play the game with as much finesse as the men I watched on television.

            I bought a ball. I laced up my tennis shoes. I convinced my friend Charlie to go to the park with me.

            We dribbled. We passed. We attempted layups and foul shots and three-pointers. Some of our shots even went in. We played HORSE. One game lasted almost an hour. By the end of it, we felt like pros.

            And then we were challenged. Two on two. Half court. Make it, take it. A game to twenty-one. Win by two.

Our opponents weren’t even old enough to drink. Teenagers. Short chubby teenage brothers. They looked like real-life versions of Chris Griffin from Family Guy, but shorter and fatter and whiter.

And they were wearing boots. Work boots. Steel toed. With no laces. And no socks. And they challenged me and Charlie to a game of pickup basketball.

We gladly accepted. We laughed at the idea.

The game started. They made a quick three-pointer. No big deal. Make it, take it.

Another three pointer. Six-zero. Beginner’s luck. And then another.

We began pressing. They began passing. Through their legs. Behind their backs. Over their shoulders. They shot on the fly. Jumpers. Fade-aways. Sky-hooks.

They looked like short obese versions of Eminem but played ball like Larry Byrd. One bucket after another. Charlie and I had no answers.

It was over fast. Twenty-one, nothing. Game over. Skunked. By two fat kids wearing work boots. Another game? Not today.

I still watch the sport on a regular basis. But I haven’t touched a basketball since.

Bottom of the Ninth (Fiction)

Bottom of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded, down by three, Jimmy’s up to bat. And here’s the pitch. And the swing. Strike one! Jimmy steps out of the batter’s box, wipes the sweat off his brow, and checks the signs from the third base coach. He nods his head and steps back in the box. And here’s the pitch. And the swing. Strike two! The Philadelphia Phillies are one strike away from winning the World Series. Jimmy steps back in the batter’s box. What’s this? He’s raising his arm. He’s pointing to center field. He’s calling his shot! I don’t believe it. And here’s the pitch. And the swing. And it looks like he got all of that one. It’s going, going, gone! A grand slam to center field! Jimmy has done the impossible. The crowd goes wild. The Cleveland Indians have won game seven of the World Series. Jimmy rounds the bases. He takes off his hat and waves it towards the fans. They have waited a long time for this. The fireworks start to explode. Boom! Bang! Pow! But wait. Those aren’t fireworks—they’re bombs! We’re under attack!

It’s the Russians. They have infiltrated the stadium. They’re parachuting in. They have guns—lots of guns. Quick, get me to the locker room. There it is, in my locker. I always keep my machine gun in my locker. Bang! Bang! Bang! Three shots, three dead Russians. Let’s go! There’s no time. We need to get out of the stadium. Oh my god! The streets are on fire. World War Three has broken out in the streets of Cleveland. Hand me a grenade. Boom! Another. Boom! Two tanks down. Kapow! I’ve been hit. Run for your life! No, leave me behind. I can fend for myself. Bang! Bang! Bang! Stay low, army crawl. Hurry, behind that car. I need another grenade. Boom! Watch out! From above. They’re attacking us from above. Wait, what is that? Those aren’t Russians. Those are aliens!

Screw you alien scum! Bang! Bang! Bang! We need more fire power. My machine gun bullets won’t penetrate their force field. I need an intergalactic bazooka. Thanks. Kabloowee! I’ve hit it. Oh no, it’s coming down right on top of us. Hurry. Run, jump, dive, summersault. Boom! Crash landing just missed us. But here come the aliens, dozens of them, small and green, with tentacles and claws. Bang! Got one. Bang! Got another. Green splatter everywhere. Don’t touch it, it’s poison. It will melt through anything it comes in contact with. We need to find the crystal. It’s the only way to destroy the mother ship. There it is. I see it—on top of that skyscraper. Let’s go. Watch out for the dinosaur. Run!!!!

“Jimmy!”

It’s a t-rex and it’s coming right for us!

“Jimmy!!”

Oh my god, it’s going to eat us. Run!

“Jimmy!!!”

“Yes, Mom?”

“It’s dinner time. Get inside and make sure you wash your hands.”

Stand by Me Too (A True Sequel)

            “You can’t just write a sequel to Stand by Me.”

            “It’s my blog. I can write whatever I want.”

            “But the original movie isn’t exactly open-ended,” Katelin argues. “What could your sequel possibly be about?”

            “Well, the first movie is about four boys on a quest to see a dead body,” I say. “My sequel is about the two of us on a quest to see the town in which the original movie was filmed. It’s meta.”

            “Do you even know what that means?”

            “Oooh, a playground!”

            I run over to the childless jungle gym and start climbing up a web of ropes. We are in the Brownsville Town Park, in Brownsville, Oregon—the town where much of Stand by Me was filmed. After watching the Rob Reiner-directed film earlier this week, we decided to take the ninety minute drive from Portland to see the small town in person. We are far from the first people to visit Brownsville solely because of the 1986 film. The town openly welcomes fans, taking pride in being the setting for the classic coming of age story. The historical museum offers two different brochures that map out the filming locations, one in English, and one in Japanese. It turns out that the film has a huge cult following in Japan and tourists from the far away country visit Brownsville on a regular enough basis to warrant a map in their home language. I grab a copy of both versions, though Katelin and I use the English edition as we explore the town.

            First, we checked out the iconic steel bridge that the four main characters walked across as they left their hometown on their adventure. Our second stop is here, at the park, where the classic pie eating scene was filmed. After about twenty minutes, I wear out all my options on the playground, so we continue on our journey. We take some back roads, passing Gordie’s House on our way to the site of the tree house. The house is gone, but the tree remains. It stands tall on a vacant lot, which has a sign that reads “NO TRESSPASSING.” We think about ignoring the sign, just as the boys did as they jumped the fence at the junkyard, but a small makeshift shelter gives us concern. Constructed from long pine branches, it sits not far from the tree, and doesn’t seem to fit in among the new houses that have recently sprouted up on the adjacent lots.

“Do you think there’s somebody living in there?” Katelin asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “Corey Feldman.”

“You mean Teddy Duchamp?”

“No. I mean Corey Feldman!”

We continue through the heart of downtown Brownsville, which hasn’t changed much since Stand by Me was filmed here. In fact, if all the cars were removed, you’d be hard-pressed to know what decade it is. The main drag still has the look and feel of the 1950’s. Even the sign for the “Blue Point Diner” continues to hang from the side of a building which has since become the Brownsville Saloon.

On our way out of town we stop for lunch at Kirk’s Ferry Trading Post. “What brings you two to Brownsville?” The young waiter asks as he hands me my beer.

“We watched Stand by Me the other night and decided to take a road trip to see the town,” I say.

“Speaking of Stand by Me,” he says, “have you ever seen The Cable Guy?”

“With Jim Carrey?”

“Yeah, that one. My father played the Blue Knight in that movie. The one Jim Carrey battles against at the renaissance restaurant.” 

The waiter goes on to tell us more about jousting and how he grew up performing at amusement parks. 

After an absolutely amazing cheeseburger, we hit the road and head for home. “This is the perfect ending for my sequel,” I say.

“What’s that?” Katelin asks.

“Well, in Stand by Me, the movie ends with the boys finding a dead body. The sequel ends with us finding the son of the man who played the Blue Knight in The Cable Guy!”

Katelin laughs and all I can think is: I never had any friends later on like the one I had when I was 32. Jesus, does anyone?

The Road to Buffalo (An excerpt from The Road and the River: An American Adventure)

My next designated stop is the town of Buffalo, Wyoming, solely for the reason that I grew up in Buffalo, NY, and have never before visited any other place named Buffalo. It’s only 65 miles to the rural town, but in between here and there are the Bighorn Mountains and the Powder River Pass that stands at an elevation of 9,666 feet. The grade is 6% and the road never seems to end. I power my bicycle five miles, all uphill, and then ten, and then fifteen. I spot a car parked off to the side of the road with a New York State license plate. Two guys, only a few years younger than me, are outside taking pictures. “New York,” I say, “that’s where I grew up.”

“Really, where abouts?” they ask.

“Buffalo.”

“Buffalo! No way. We’re from Buffalo. It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes.” I say. “Though today, coming over this mountain, it feels awfully big.”

They take a picture of me, on my bike, wearing my Buffalo Bills hat. I continue up the hill, thinking what the odds could possibly be, to not only run into somebody else from Buffalo, but to be on my way to another Buffalo when it happens. I hit the twenty-mile mark, and then twenty-five, and can’t recall ever riding up a hill quite this long. After about thirty miles I finally reach the top—over a mile higher than where I started this morning—and find myself in an absolute blizzard, snowflakes as large as half-dollar coins blowing in every direction. I think back to the town I grew up in and can’t help but laugh, because it seems no matter what, in order to get to Buffalo, you have to go through a snowstorm…