He's Love

#3

15 June 2003

It is everything George imagined it to be. There are a lot of people roaming around the SBC Center taking pictures of themselves in their jerseys with their idols' standees beside. She can't help but grip her father's hand tighter, as the sight of the newly built arena, the lights, and even the posters of the players sends her in awe. It's late, probably past six in the evening, and she's fighting her desire to let go of her father's hand and be lost in the crowd.

She wants to explore the whole arena. She wants to see the booths one by one; starting from the souvenir shirts, the team's flag and even the rumored Tim Duncan signed hotdogs.

Her father introduced her to basketball when she was three. It started when she sat on their couch one Sunday morning and her father's watching a replay game. She asked questions, a lot of them. That's when she knew her admiration to the sport ignited within her.

She looks at the arena again as they continue to walk inside. Her father hands their tickets to the man in the entrance and he lets them in. She squeals as soon as her sneakers entered the arena. She really isn't dreaming.

"Gian," she calls her brother resting on her mother's shoulder. He looks at her indifferently. She continues, "You'll be a basketball player someday, I'll make sure of it!"

He yawns, "I will, duh."

Instead of pouting, she squeals again. If her brother becomes an NBA player in the future, she'll be in an arena like this again. Oh god, she can live in this arena all her life and not feel any regrets.

"Come on, hon, climb on." Her father commands and she slips her hands on her father's neck to hold him tight. He carries her and holds her mother's hand as they walk to their seats. The way to the bleachers is narrow and crowded. A lot of people wearing gray jerseys are shouting, talking and some are even arguing about how the game will end. She can see them handing each other money and jotting down something on a small notebook.

Her father squeezes into their seats and sighs in utter relief as he takes a sit next to her. She's on her father's left side, Gian and her mother on his right. She looks at the bald man she's sitting beside her and as soon as she has caught a sight of the food on his hand, her jaw drops.

He's eating an enormous Hungarian hotdog.

"Uh," she whispers to the man and continues to stare at his meal, "is that signed by Tim Duncan?"

The man frowns at her, "What?"

"The hotdog you're eating. Is it signed by the basketball player?"

Chuckling, the man examines the hotdog or what remains of it after his three huge bites. He looks at George and shakes his head no.

"It doesn't."

She claps her hand and grins, "Yes!"

"Why?"

She rolls her eyes and chuckles, "That means I can still have it. I've been staring at the hotdogs since I came here and none of it has the signed one. I'm pretty sure it is reserved for me."

The man takes another bite of his meal and another, until nothing is left of it. He grins at her, slightly teasing.

"Don't even hope for the signed one, little girl. It's just a marketing stunt."

She narrows her eyes at him, "You'll see. Later I'll have that hotdog and you'll be sorry you say that to me now."

The bald man laughs and scratches her bald head, "You're on."

She can hear her father whisper an apology to the man but she ignores it.

The court is wide and spacious, the stickers on the floor all shiny and new. Her eyes wander about the arena and see that it's getting more crowded as every second passes. She has asked her father how he managed to get them this luxurious front seat tickets but her father only tickles her in response, saying that he has a good connection with some good people.

She shrugs, of course, it's the NBA people.

"Daddy," she calls her father, "I have to go find the Tim Duncan hotdog."

Her father laughs, "Hon, you just can't sign a hotdog. We've discussed this before, right?"

She can't help but roll her eyes, "You can, daddy. Aren't you listening? They have this special tool to brand a hotdog. I've watched the Nat Geo people do that to people with a large rusty stinging hot iron bar ages ago."

Her father chuckles, "Hon, the game will start soon. And I can't let you wander around. There's too many people around."

"But, daddy, " she complains, "don't you trust me?"

"This isn't about trust, hon. You'll get lost in the crowd, I can't let that happen."

"Okay," she surrenders. "I'll be a good girl."

Her father kisses her forehead and looks back to her mother to play with Gian. Her brother, as expected, is being an amazing two year old crying and flapping. She inwardly smiles before she pokes the bald man beside her.

His eyebrow arches as he waits for her to speak. She whispers, "Where did you buy that Hungarian hotdog?"

The man explains to her where and how to get there. She just need to follow the red lights above the arena to exit and the players' face flag on the sides. The booth will be there, unmoved and crowded.

She thanks him and whispers again, "I'll be back soon. If my father asked for me, tell him you didn't notice me go, okay?"

The man shakes his head no, "I can't. It'll cause me trouble."

She nervously looks back to her father who's still trying to ease up Gian's mood. When she's sure he's too busy to notice her, she looks at the man again and begs, "I'll be gone no less than ten minutes, sir. Just be quiet, then."

The man sighs and let her slip her way out of the row. She has no trouble getting out since she's little. She check the money in the right pocket of her shorts before she jolts out of the arena.

The crowd is less than before because the game will start anytime soon. She runs faster as she follows the flag around the arena and tries to remember where she saw the booth earlier.

"There you are," she exclaims, not knowing it is not the only thing she'll be finding.