𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬: 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐊𝐇𝐈

14. | N E W Y O R K STATE O F M I N D

C H A P T E R | FOURTEEN
NEW YORK STATE OF MIND

𝙲 𝙰 𝚁 𝚃 𝙴 𝚁 𝙼 𝙴 𝙺 𝙷 𝙸

SURE, it was brick ass cold out, but none of that mattered. The basketball court near the Tilden projects was still popping and alive regardless of the cold weather. This place was so familiar to him-Brownsville, Brooklyn. It was Carter's birthplace, his stomping grounds since he was a kid, and subsequently the place that made him who he was when all was said and done. Brownsville was what made Carter a man; Knight was who cultivated the man that Brooklyn had bore from its unforgiving streets, crack invested blocks, and cold embrace.

Although Brownsville was no walk in the park on a sunny afternoon, it was home and whenever Carter went home, he felt undeniably good inside. It wasn't much that he could actually go back to the Tilden projects but when he could he did and when he did he felt like the gully Brooklyn kid that he remembered hugging blocks, spitting on the pavement, and whistling at all the shorties when one that caught his eye passed. Carter remembered all of that. He relished the opportunity to go back to what he knew was home and was always nostalgic about the past there in Brownsville; it was HIS past.

Everyone was bundled up and huddled in the bleachers set aside from the basketball court inside the run down park area right on the outskirts of the project gates. Carter remembered playing ball here in the various street-balling tournaments when he was growing up. He remembered one year when he and Judas got all the way to the championships with their team of five and won it-Carter bragged for a whole six months about their victory and even got into some street fights with a few hating ass niggas over it too.

Judas always told him not to keep running his mouth about how they beat those niggas from Bed-Sty by a landslide but Carter never listened. He didn't feel like he should have to keep his mouth shut about his victory and didn't intend to, but see, that was Carter back then. It was funny how little things like a community basketball game meant so much to him now that he couldn't attend them as often or hang around in the hood like he used to when he was just one of the niggas on the come-up.

However, Carter still liked to think of himself as one of the niggas even though he had made it out. It was like Knight always told him about never forgetting his past and where he came from even when he made it out and when he got on because it could all be snatched away from him.

Carter sat in the stands amongst some of his old comrades, people he didn't know, and of course, Judas. He heard about the game, Brooklyn's finest were supposed to be playing in some of the pick up tournaments tonight and Carter was eager to see what the younger cats had up their sleeves since he last played on the very same court.

The cold winter air of December crept up on them all as people blew into their hands, rubbed their cracked fingers together, and hugged themselves in their winter coats while watching the players on the court. They were warmed by their body heat and their movement as they played in one of the most important basketball games of their Brooklyn street balling career.

When Carter was growing up they called the winter tournaments Brooklyn Blitz but who knew what they referred to the games now a days. All Carter knew was that they still had it going on and that it still got live as it used to be back in the day. It kind of brought a smile to his face to see that the games still drew crowds and it still was a big deal - - at least some things were still the same, right?