You Had Me At -- ON HOLD --

Chapter 5

Sherry was the only person I knew in Charlotte besides my neighbor. She reluctantly accepted the offer but claimed she didn't care much for basketball. I didn't know much either.

We were at Matrix Centre just before seven. I had no idea how to get there, and Sherry was the type of person who could go from her home to work, the shopping mall and maybe a grocery store. Everything else left her lost. I was annoyed at arriving late just as the national anthem began. We couldn't find our seats, and I had to ask an attendant for directions.

"Well dear," she said in her southern drawl, "you're courtside."

Holy shit. I knew enough about basketball to know those were good seats!

Not only were we late, but we were courtside. We had to negotiate through hordes of people to take our seats in the second row. We were so close to the action that I was afraid of being toppled over. Both Sherry and I took our seats and sat back as far as possible as the giants took to the court. I suddenly had a greater respect for Jonathon Swift's Gulliver. I was afraid one of these giants would sweep me up and put me in his pocket.

"I'm scared," I said to Sherry.

We both laughed.

"Where did you get these tickets from?" she asked.

"A neighbor."

"Some neighbor."

I looked across court where I saw the player's benches one on each side of the court. Quinn was sitting on the bench and chatting up a storm with one of his teammates. He wasn't playing and I was annoyed. I didn't like basketball, if he wasn't even playing why did I need to drag an unwilling Sherry to the game?

"Do you know the rules of this game?" Sherry asked.

"No, nothing at all."

The game began and we braced ourselves as the players came close and then were quickly gone. A gentleman sitting next to me took us under his wing and versed us on the game and rules. He was a season ticket holder and had never missed a Matrix game. Every time there was a whistle he would explain the call. I was thankful for his knowledge.

At the end of the first quarter, Quinn came into the game. He immediately became consumed by the action. He was a decent player, a point guard, Andy explained. He was the man sitting next to me. "You see, Q-ball is a good player, a little small, though," he said. "He really has to fight to get the ball, but he's like the team's quarterback."

"Q-ball?"

"His nickname. In a few years this guy will be a superstar."

"Does he play a lot?"

"They never take him off."

"But he's hardly played."

"Coach Biggins is letting the bench play tonight."

There was so much about this game to learn. Did I even want to?

"Andy, is this team any good?" I asked.

"The team is rebuilding right now. Not too much is expected of them. But mark my words, in a few years they will be champions."

In other words, they stunk.

***

Monday morning we passed each other in the hall. I was going to work and he was coming from a morning run. He waved to me in the hall and I waved back. We had finally reached that friendly stage, and it was nice to have a new friend. Or acquaintance. Whatever he was.

"Quinn, what are you doing tonight?" I asked.

"Not much. Why do you ask?"

"I thought I'd make you dinner."