asked me something that nobody had asked me since October 15.
“Bill, are you okay? How’s everything at home?”
I stared at him, unable to speak. Suddenly, tears welled up in my eyes. I just exploded . . . the words, making their way out of my heart . . .
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Coach. I’m sorry.
“There’s nobody home.
“I am so lonely.
“I don’t know what I’m doing from one second to the next.
“I’m failing every subject.
“I just don’t know anymore.
“There’s nobody home. You know what I do after school every day, Coach? I run home and I cook. I make dinner for my mother because she’s out looking for work. She’s out trying to get a job, and I want to have food on the table when she comes home, so she won’t have to do it herself.
“And she looks so sad and so tired. And I try to make her laugh, but that’s not working either.
“And I’m trying to keep up. I’m really trying to keep up with my studies but I can’t. I go into my room in the back, and every time I open a book, I can hear her in the next room.
“I can hear her moaning and sobbing herself to sleep every night because the walls are too fucking thin.”
The tears ran down my face like they were escaping from prison, the wetness of them oddly reassuring. I wasn’t embarrassed. Coach Farry, only twenty-four at the time, smiled at me, and said, “Take all the time you need, I’ll be out here.”
He put me on the team. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.
We have our first game. It’s an away game at a school on the Island called East Rockaway High School, and I’m sitting in the bleachers watching the JV game, which preceded the varsity game. I’m sitting there all alone, except for my boulder, looking but not seeing, hearing but not listening. Two friends are behind me, Harvey and Joe.
Now our fans are arriving at the away game. And as they drift into the gymnasium to watch the game, Harvey innocently says to Joe, “Hey, your father’s here.”
And I stood up and said, “Where?” I thought they were talking to me.
I couldn’t believe it happened, but it did. I didn’t know what to do. It was just . . . out there. What could I do? I mean, I couldn’t turn around. What was I going to say? “Sorry guys, I thought my dead father just walked into the gym to watch me play”? So I just sat down as if nothing had happened, just staring straight ahead but not seeing, listening but not hearing. I couldn’t imagine what was going on behind me . . .
I didn’t talk to Harvey again for the rest of high school. If I saw him coming down the hallway, I went the other way.
The next week was November 22, 1963. Another Jack died.
Now the whole country had the otherness, except I had a double dip. And this misery continued for all of us for years and years, with a president from Texas who we really didn’t like and a war that we really couldn’t win . . .
And then one Sunday night in February of 1964, Mom and I were watching the Ed Sullivan show. Because that’s how I spent every Sunday night now, just she and I watching Ed Sullivan. And something great happened for the country, something that made everybody forget what a hellhole the world was becoming. The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan. And for the first time in months, I smiled. And for the first time in my life, I liked another kind of music. And all through this magical broadcast, I heard this ticking noise. No. It wasn’t
60 Minutes
. It was Mom, making that disapproving sound. I was seeing the Beatles. She was seeing the death of jazz.
Oh, I wanted to be like one of the Beatles. If I could be like one of the Beatles, maybe I could get The Girl.
Once a month I got my hair cut from this wonderful barber in Long Beach. Remember barbers? His name was Cosmo. He cut everybody’s hair. There was always a wait for Cosmo. I would sit in the chair. He’d put the smock around me. And I’d say to him, “Cosmo, leave it long in the back,
“Bill, are you okay? How’s everything at home?”
I stared at him, unable to speak. Suddenly, tears welled up in my eyes. I just exploded . . . the words, making their way out of my heart . . .
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Coach. I’m sorry.
“There’s nobody home.
“I am so lonely.
“I don’t know what I’m doing from one second to the next.
“I’m failing every subject.
“I just don’t know anymore.
“There’s nobody home. You know what I do after school every day, Coach? I run home and I cook. I make dinner for my mother because she’s out looking for work. She’s out trying to get a job, and I want to have food on the table when she comes home, so she won’t have to do it herself.
“And she looks so sad and so tired. And I try to make her laugh, but that’s not working either.
“And I’m trying to keep up. I’m really trying to keep up with my studies but I can’t. I go into my room in the back, and every time I open a book, I can hear her in the next room.
“I can hear her moaning and sobbing herself to sleep every night because the walls are too fucking thin.”
The tears ran down my face like they were escaping from prison, the wetness of them oddly reassuring. I wasn’t embarrassed. Coach Farry, only twenty-four at the time, smiled at me, and said, “Take all the time you need, I’ll be out here.”
He put me on the team. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.
We have our first game. It’s an away game at a school on the Island called East Rockaway High School, and I’m sitting in the bleachers watching the JV game, which preceded the varsity game. I’m sitting there all alone, except for my boulder, looking but not seeing, hearing but not listening. Two friends are behind me, Harvey and Joe.
Now our fans are arriving at the away game. And as they drift into the gymnasium to watch the game, Harvey innocently says to Joe, “Hey, your father’s here.”
And I stood up and said, “Where?” I thought they were talking to me.
I couldn’t believe it happened, but it did. I didn’t know what to do. It was just . . . out there. What could I do? I mean, I couldn’t turn around. What was I going to say? “Sorry guys, I thought my dead father just walked into the gym to watch me play”? So I just sat down as if nothing had happened, just staring straight ahead but not seeing, listening but not hearing. I couldn’t imagine what was going on behind me . . .
I didn’t talk to Harvey again for the rest of high school. If I saw him coming down the hallway, I went the other way.
The next week was November 22, 1963. Another Jack died.
Now the whole country had the otherness, except I had a double dip. And this misery continued for all of us for years and years, with a president from Texas who we really didn’t like and a war that we really couldn’t win . . .
And then one Sunday night in February of 1964, Mom and I were watching the Ed Sullivan show. Because that’s how I spent every Sunday night now, just she and I watching Ed Sullivan. And something great happened for the country, something that made everybody forget what a hellhole the world was becoming. The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan. And for the first time in months, I smiled. And for the first time in my life, I liked another kind of music. And all through this magical broadcast, I heard this ticking noise. No. It wasn’t
60 Minutes
. It was Mom, making that disapproving sound. I was seeing the Beatles. She was seeing the death of jazz.
Oh, I wanted to be like one of the Beatles. If I could be like one of the Beatles, maybe I could get The Girl.
Once a month I got my hair cut from this wonderful barber in Long Beach. Remember barbers? His name was Cosmo. He cut everybody’s hair. There was always a wait for Cosmo. I would sit in the chair. He’d put the smock around me. And I’d say to him, “Cosmo, leave it long in the back,
Similar Books
