Number One Overall: In the Third Person

By Gregory Forney

This manuscript can best be described as fiction packed with reality based on a true story. The main character comes from humble beginnings and spirit-filled, God-fearing parents. Early in life, life was full of joy and the goodness of helping others. Adolescence yields the "tree of knowledge" and casts a shadow over his life. His sheltered life, which shielded him from his troubles as a teenager, delivers him into harm's way repeatedly as an adult. When wrecked dreams become patchwork visions, his life takes on an identity of its own that leads to a one-track mission. It's oblivious to reality. Along the way, in attempts not to harm the lives of people he knows are becoming attached, he begins to temporarily paralyze theirs. He dives in and out of drugs, sex, alcohol, racism, and manhood before actually speaking on these issues to anyone. Everything becomes trial by error and just hoping to land on top. Internal questions burn deep as the struggle continues. A young witness to a homosexual act, he is unable to ask why out of fear of scorn. After using the model of his parents' relationship subconsciously, he watches the world around him as he knows it grind down. This riveting piece uses hard-cutting reality to slash into one's inner soul and wrestle with one's sheer existence along the path of life as seen from someone IN THE THIRD PERSON. Jesus (Yeshua). Spiritual Growth. Inspirational. Sports History. Reality. Click here to connect on Facebook!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781640283336

Book preview

301454-ebook.jpg

Number One Overall

In the Third Person

Gregory Forney

ISBN 978-1-64028-332-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64028-372-5 (Hard Cover)

ISBN 978-1-64028-333-6 (Digital)

Copyright © 2017 by Gregory Forney

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

296 Chestnut Street

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

All rights reserved. No part of this manuscript may be reproduced or copied in any form without written permission from copyright owner.

Printed in the United States of America

Preface

South Florida. Somewhere close to

South Beach. The night was hot, muggy and full of noise. The people buzzed around as though an episode of Mike Hammer was being filmed.

Longtime NBA veteran referee Jake O’Donnell has just recently announced his retirement.

The heat made the cab driver sweat more profusely near his arm pits.

There slouched a 6 foot 6 inch, 234 pound, ex–wannabe athlete, inside the cab, staring down anyone that peeked back into the cab. The vehicle was on a speedy stroll, interrupted by 15–second stops due bystanders walking in the streets, where Paul was motionless surrounded by motion.

Who was the greatest player ever ? said the cab driver in broken English, as he adjusts the rear view mirror.

Paul snickered MJ through a mild, yet noticeable sigh.

O.K. you have Kareem, Wilt and MJ. Kareem and Wilt did it from the low post, MJ did it from the perimeter attacking the hole" said Paul.

Keep in mind the object of the game is to put the ball into the basket.

Paul continued Jordan at 6 ft 6 inches, dominated a truly Big Man’s game.

At 6 ft 9 or taller, you have Russell, Magic, Bird, Parish, The Big E Elvin Hayes, Olajuwon, Thurmond, Ewing, George Mikan and Shaquille O’Neal.

If Chuck was 6 ft 9, and not 6 ft 5, he would of re wrote all the record books. Paul quipped.

However to the cab driver, he saw underneath the words, glimpsing into Paul’s heart.

In a world where any sign of a heart can get you crushed, the cab driver welcomed the refreshing change.

Paul kept talking after the 1998 NBA playoffs MJ will have more career playoff points than anyone ever to wear a NBA uniform.

He will surpass Abdul Jabbar

Paul began to go on a tirade listen my man, the Bulls were bad compared to the Lakers and Celtics. Magic’s first few years he had Kareem, Jamaal Wilkes, Worthy, Norm Nixon, Cooper and Scott."

Meanwhile Bird’s relatively early career included the likes of Parish, Cornbread Maxwell, McHale and D.J.

Out of nowhere the cab driver interjected with I know he didn’t enter the league with NBA Greatest Players already on the roster.

By now the cab driver knew that Paul knew more about the NBA than most of his fares. A mood of mutual respect came about inside the metal sweat box on wheels. The backseat window was smeared with the previous days messy fingerprints.

Pull over here snapped Paul.

The chicken tacos, with all the fixings’ doused in a hot pepper sauce, slid down his throat.

The long sips of ice cold ginger ale interrupted the smacking, belching and crunchy sounds of eating three hard shelled tacos, in about six minutes.

After spilling the hot pepper sauce on his silky red, black and silver color oversized shirt. Paul begins to realize this cab driver was put into my life at this particular time for a reason.

Paul, who feels he has already reached the zenith of his life reaches back in a narrative manner and begins to unravel a story by someone IN THE THIRD PERSON.

Chapter One

Now glory be to God who by his power at work within us is able to do far more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of–infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires or hopes.

(Ephesians Chapter 3, verse 20,

Good News Translation)

In the Third Person

I can remember as far

back as, I guess, when I was about five years old, which would have been 1967. The NBA only had 10 teams. Rick Barry led the league in scoring and Dave Bing won Rookie of the Year. I remember going to kindergarten. On Bodman Street, there was a two-story house with a basement, two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, dining room, and kitchen. My parents, Loby and Rosetta, lived there along with my older sister Theresa, my younger brother Jeff, and me. I had three other siblings who had moved out by then: Rosemary and Barbara, who were married, and my older brother, Sonny, who, I think, left home when I was three. On Bodman Street, there was a little white picket fence around the outside and a big tree on the left-hand corner with lots of ants. There were lots of kids in the neighborhood and lots of families to the left of us, to the right of us, and across the street. We all pretty much mingled and had a good time. And fortunately for us, we lived about three minutes from the school.

I remember walking to kindergarten with a big Green Bay Packers coat on. I had played in the playground so many times that I knew the way. Actually, you could look out our kitchen window and see the school over a hill. I walked to school with a little girl named Leah who lived next door to me. I went to kindergarten in the afternoon, so I could sleep in. I remember I loved kindergarten. I had a chance to be creative, to draw and paint, and that was so fine! All I wanted to do back then was to make people happy, do the right thing, and help everybody. I loved the world. You know, the age of innocence—when you’re five, you’ve lost some teeth, and you’d do anything for your parents. It was just great.

When I was growing up, my dad worked two jobs. He left at five thirty in the morning and came home at about four. Then he had to be at the other job by five thirty and got back at midnight. So I pretty much never saw him. He worked four days a week on his second job. The first job, five days a week. We saw him on weekends and Tuesdays. He was a good worker, a good provider, but you know, you miss your pops when he’s not there. You miss someone to play catch with and someone to toss the football around. He just wasn’t there because he had to work two jobs. My parents were good servants of the Lord. They followed Christ with all their hearts. Growing up, and to this day, I never heard them curse. I never heard them swear. I never saw them drink any alcohol, light a cigarette, go to any clubs, stay out all night, dance, get into a heated argument—none of that. And you know, I thought that was strange, growing up.

Kindergarten was fine. There were lots of kids, but I was shy and scared. I had a big head, and my mother kept my haircut short. Back in the day, when the ‘fro was coming out and everybody had natural hair with the Afro comb sticking out, for me, it was a close haircut and a part. I remember running down the street because we lived on a hill, and my mother would be sitting out waiting for me. I would always see her sitting on the window. She knew I knew how to find my way home. I would always bring her a coloring book with something I had colored. It was fine. I don’t remember too much else about that, but I do understand one thing. I had a teacher (I think her name was Mrs. Reath), and for some reason, I had a crush on her. She was a young white lady—I would say midtwenties to late twenties. Besides my mother, she was just the only one who would take time to make sure I was doing something okay. I remember open house. My mother always went to it when she could. My father couldn’t because he worked two jobs, but she was always there for us. I was just concerned with the schoolwork. She always read to us, which really helped me.

Then the first grade came along. I was able to go to school the whole day. Boy, that was a big experience, waking up early in the morning! I remember waking up with my older sister Theresa. She was in the sixth grade. I would get up when she did because she had to catch the bus. Just waking up early for the first time in my life—it’s a shock when you’re six and you have to wake up in the morning! It’s funny though. I got up just as early before, but this time, there was an alarm clock, a shake in the back, pants on, and I’m out the door. We walked to school, Leah and I, to the first grade. My brother still hadn’t gone to kindergarten yet. Back then, I just wanted to help people and do the best thing.

I remember the summers. It was just fun with the kids playing baseball in the street. First base was a fire hydrant, second base was a sewer, third base was a telephone pole, and home plate was just a rock. It was a no outlet street, and that was our baseball field. I’ll never forget this. I hit a ball, and you know, when you’re in the first grade and playing with people in the fifth or sixth grade, you very seldom get a chance to get on. So I hit one back to the pitcher, and somehow, he bobbled it and I beat the throw. I overran first base, but they called me out. For some reason, from watching baseball with my dad, I knew you could overrun first base. But they didn’t get it, and I was out. So much for that.

I remember chasing down the ice cream man. This guy down the street had grapes, and we would climb the fence and eat his grapes in his backyard. His grandmother would remember us. Sometimes she got so mad because we would just trample their yard. I don’t think she minded the grapes as much as the fact that we would trample the yard. She would throw hot water out the window. Some of the kids in the neighborhood were so hungry that they just took the hot water without losing their positions. They knew by the time she reloaded, they could get some more grapes off the vine.

When I was in first grade, it was 1968, the year Earl the Pearl Monroe won Rookie of the Year. The league also expanded by adding franchises in Seattle and San Diego. I remember my dad coming home after voting for Nixon. Now he’s a staunch Democrat, but he claims it had something to do with defense contracts. He was working for General Electric, where he eventually retired. In fact, Nixon had assigned some big defense contract to help GE, which was Dad’s rationale for voting for him.

I remember my first grade teacher in ‘68, Mrs. Hubbard. Wilt won MVP and Oscar led the league in scoring with just over 29 points per game. It was a very cold winter for us. My brother and I, we played around. Christmas was always fun, but back then, for some reason, I was afraid to ride a bike. I just didn’t want to ride a bike. I think my brother actually learned before I did. Then I learned on his bike, and I wanted one so bad.

When the second grade rolled around, my brother started going to kindergarten. I really love my brother even though later in life, I did some things to him as a bully. It was revealed later in life that I was really a coward. I knew deep down I was bigger than he was, and I had more physical strength. You know, I regret that because I think even now, to this day, he holds that against me. This went on for years, not just while I was in second grade. For some reason, I just couldn’t stop bullying him. I tried to. I don’t know. Maybe it was because I had no positive role model in my life. I mean, my dad was there to watch games with me, but there was nobody to talk to me, show me things, and so forth.

From the second to the fifth grade, we stayed on Bodman Street. I went to school and progressed pretty well. I got basically As and Bs. My parents always wanted us to do well, but they didn’t push us in any particular direction. However, because of my parents’ strict religious ways, we couldn’t go to dances, listen to music, and go to movies and we had to be in by a certain time. I remember my sister would wait until my mother had left on Saturday just to watch Soul Train. Back in the days of Don Cornelius, funky bellbottoms, platform shoes, and the big fro, we had our hair short. By then, we were addicted to sports. Whenever a sports highlight show came on a Saturday, showing highlights of the previous Sunday’s games, we were glued to the television set. My sister would switch the channels because she wanted to watch Soul Train, and because she was bigger, she got her way. I remember my mother giving her money, but she wouldn’t give money to my younger brother or me. Later in life, my mother said she didn’t want her not to have money, and I realized that was true. I would rather she have money instead of me because she was nice.

From that point on, my two older sisters who were married would come by from time to time. They had kids. My older brother was Sonny, but I didn’t see him that much. Even to this day, I’ve only seen him five or six times—five or six different occasions in my life, strange as it may seem. He just kind of shies away.

On Bodman Street, we had this girl next door named Leah, and she was a bully. She used to pick on me. I was afraid of her. She used to beat me up. I was scared of her. I was bigger and stronger, but because she was aggressive, she always took the initiative. I was always told never to hit girls. One time, I remember being chased home by twin girls. They cornered me in the doorway before I could open the door, and I took a barrage of blows before I busted loose just to get away from the contact. But back to Leah. She was my age. For some reason, a boy who was two or three years older liked her. At the time, I didn’t know why. She would go off with him, and she would come back. Who knows what they did. I remember one time, we were six or seven, and my older sister and Leah’s older brother pushed us into a garage and made us kiss. In a garage that had two cats—one in heat—and smelled like cat urine. The garage kept an old car that didn’t work. They watched us. It was just incredibly devastating, but I got over it.

One time, I stood up to Leah. I hit her in the face and ran. From that point on, she never bothered me. Unfortunately, it was the day before we took our school pictures, and she had a bruise. It really hurt me because I would go in her house, see her picture over the mantelpiece, and see the bruise under her eye. I know when you’re that young you’re not supposed to feel hurt and pain, but I did, every single time I saw that picture, from the third grade all the way to the sixth grade.

Then there was Tim Carver whom everyone called Baby Tim because there were two Tims who lived in the neighborhood. Tim was a little bit younger, but he was strong for his age. It was because he was so young that no one expected him to do anything. When we played baseball and he got a hit, everyone went ooh and aah because of that. That was cool. I liked it.

I was a very competitive kid. I always wanted to do well. I was relatively fast and strong. We used to play football in the dirt and tackle with no equipment right in front of the school. There were rocks where the grass wouldn’t grow, so as you got to the goal line, it was just rocks and dirt. To the left was a cement wall. Twice I remember slamming my head into it. To this day, I have a swollen forehead that shows up every now and then. I think it’s finally gone down, but I remember getting a big knot and coming home crying.

Bodman Street, in the neighborhood of Mt. Auburn, had some good memories. I remember, I think it was in the third grade, when I bit from the tree of knowledge. Until then, all I wanted to do were good things. This was before the Leah incident. Just do good things, do what’s right, and help people. I remember I had a door key because I used to come home from school and fix my brother’s lunch. I would open the door for him, make the sandwiches, cut his for him, open a bag of chips, and put the soup on. One time, I noticed there were some clothes on the line out back, and rain was in the forecast. Something just told me to take the clothes off. They were still damp. I took them down and put them in the basket. My mother came racing home, and by the time she got there, it was raining. She was definitely sure the clothes would get wet. When she realized I had brought them down, she was so proud of me. My Aunt Lily called, and she was happy too and proud of me for taking that initiative. That was the kind of kid I was. I always thought a little bit ahead. I had a lot of responsibility, but I didn’t mind it. I didn’t mind doing things for people and doing an extra amount because I knew no better. I thought that’s what we were supposed to do.

One time, a light just went on. I realized I could be bad only because I could, so I went on and did some bad things. Maybe it was because I didn’t get enough attention. As the baby, my younger brother got some attention. Above me was my sister, who was the youngest daughter, so she got attention. I was kind of stuck in the middle, and maybe it was because I didn’t have an older male to hang around with and lean on. Most of the males in that neighborhood weren’t bad, but they were either not close to my age or I just didn’t think of them as positive role models before I even knew what a positive role model was.

You know, I loved sports. I remember my father, brother, and I would lie in bed and name football teams, baseball teams, and outfielders. We thought sports were the whole world. We just couldn’t do anything else. We couldn’t afford instruments to play music. Since we didn’t go to movies or dances, we couldn’t listen to any kind of music that made you want to dance. I felt alienated from almost everybody. Even though we went outside to play, we had to come in at a certain hour. It kept us