IN FRONT OF SPRINGFIELD HIGH SCHOOL, a mass of spectators unloaded from various buses. Since both teams were from Gallatin, the buses had arrived almost at the same time, setting up a swarm of people converging on the ticket booths. The throng of people—comprised of both blacks and whites—standing in lines and all hyped over the game, set up stressful and dangerous pregame confrontations. People pushed and shoved, trying to get into the gym, vying for a good seat. Several faculty and administrators from both schools stood outside the doors, attempting in vain to calm the crowd. Police officers stood by, watching for any trouble and urging people to stay in lines. Despite the best efforts to maintain order, the crowd surged ahead.
“Hold on, there! Stop your pushing,” the doorman shouted. “Back off, or we will close the doors and nobody will get in!”
Al and Jesse were already set up inside the gym doing their pregame show from the scorekeeper’s desk behind the center-court railing. “There is an overflow crowd here in the Springfield gym tonight,” Al said, “to see who goes home with the championship trophy.”
“It’s unbelievable,” Jesse agreed. “The people just keep pouring in! If you’re thinking about coming to the game, let me give you some advice: stay home. There is no more room in the inn. Pull up a chair and listen to all the action right here on Gallatin’s WHIN radio.”
The radio guys were right. The gym was packed. But unlike last week’s semifinal contests, tonight’s crowd was divided, black people on one side of the gym and whites on the other. The pre-championship game was a girls’ basketball game, so more white women than usual comprised the crowd. Sitting on the girls’ bench was Patricia Head, a young woman who would soon make basketball history herself. Trish, as she was known in high school, excelled as a player. Then later, after she married and became the head coach of the Tennessee Lady Volunteers, the world would know her as Pat Summitt, the coach who won eight national championships and had more NCAA basketball victories than any other coach—male or female—in history.
The cheerleaders from Union and Gallatin were busy practicing their routines before tip-off. Teachers, parents, and spectators filled the stands to capacity. Anna Ligon sat with Tyree on one of the lower bleacher seats. Roy Jackson’s grandfather and Mr. Bonner slid into their seats on the Union side, just a row up from Charlene and Martha, the two girls who had been wooing Bill’s affections. With neither of them able to capture his heart, the two girls became friends and were now cheering for Bill and his teammates right alongside each other. The old men from the barbershop sat together in the center section of the bleachers. Along the top rows in the middle on the Union side sat the group of Vietnam veterans, who stared menacingly across the court at the predominantly white crowd supporting the Green Wave.
Even Bishop Lula Mae Swanson and several elders from the Original Church of God were there. Bishop Swanson sat demurely, impeccably dressed as always in a blue business suit, on the corner seat closest to the exit.
On the Gallatin High side of the court, the Green Wave cheerleaders greeted various people in the crowd. The Sherlin family sat in their usual spot, on the end of the front row, so Bo could position his wheelchair nearby. Buddy Bruce found a seat three rows up the bleachers with several of the football players. He always sat close so he could get to the court in a hurry if a problem came up.
Charles Hamilton Sr. and his wife sat in the heart of the Gallatin crowd, waving at Missy every time she looked in their direction. It was almost as if the Hamiltons were oblivious to the basketball game. They acted as though the entire evening centered around their daughter.
Eddie’s neighbors were there, as was Dan Savage, the pawn shop owner; Mr. White, the barber; Mr. Long, the sports equipment store owner; and many of the Sherlins’ friends from First Assembly of God church. Even some of the bruised Springfield boys who fought with Buddy and Eddie and their Gallatin friends were sitting in the back rows on the bleachers. Nobody wanted to miss this game.
Principal Herron, in collaboration with Principal Malone on the Union side, stood on the Gallatin sidelines, scanning the crowd for possible problems. As the principal observed the Gallatin supporters, a familiar face caught his attention. Sure enough, it was his daughter, Peggy Sue, sitting with her girlfriends. They were already cheering and laughing and encouraging the team, even though the Green Wave players were still in the locker room. Just then, Peggy Sue turned her head in her father’s direction. Her smile disappeared, and she leaned back as far into the crowd as possible to avoid her father’s glowering gaze.
Principal Herron felt a mix of emotions wash over him. He was relieved that Peggy Sue was okay, but he was furious that she had disobeyed. He made a mental note to deal with Peggy Sue later.
More than a dozen armed police officers, some in uniform and some in street clothes, stood around the perimeter of the gymnasium, purposely making themselves obvious to all spectators. The message displayed by the strong police presence was clear: don’t start anything.
The deafening commotion of the crowd in the gymnasium made normal conversation almost impossible. But down in the Gallatin locker room, only the echoes from the gym above could be heard. The tone was low-key, and the team was surprisingly calm. Coach Vradenburg moved among the players, quietly offering final words of encouragement, checking on injuries, and making sure everyone was ready. There was no need for a big speech. Everything the coach needed to say, he had been saying all week long. Coach Vradenburg took his place near the door, awaiting the signal to head up to the gym.
In the Union locker room, the same noise from upstairs filtered in, especially when someone opened the door, and for the most part, the team members were quiet. Each player sat on the bench, going through his pregame routine. Joe tied and untied his shoelaces half a dozen times, making sure the knots were hidden under the tongues of the shoes. Roy leaned back against a locker and yawned, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Coach Martin paced, occasionally pausing long enough to quietly voice a word of praise or advice about a point in their game plan.
Bill felt nervous, but he portrayed confidence to his coaches and teammates as he sat deep in thought on the bench nearest the door. He was ready to play.
With the girls’ basketball game concluded and the floor cleared and swept, two policemen received the signal from the referee. One officer went to the Union locker room, the other went to Gallatin’s. The officers opened the respective doors, and both men said the same thing: “It’s time.”
Eddie jumped to his feet.
In the Union locker room, Bill did the same.
The coaches led their teams out of the locker rooms into a poorly lit hallway that passed in front of the snack bar and up a short staircase to the basketball court. The police in the hallway cleared a path so the teams could pass by the customers at the snack bar without being badgered. Nobody bothered the players, but fans from each team called out words of encouragement to their favorites. As the teams filed out of the locker rooms, the Green Wave players, dressed in white uniforms decked out with green trim, and the Union Devils players, in dark red uniforms trimmed in black, caught their first glimpses of one another. Most of the boys tried to look straight ahead, all except Roy Jackson, who spotted Alton, the tall Gallatin center. Roy shot him a devious smile. Alton returned a quick, irritated look at Roy and then kept his eyes straight ahead.
Standing at the bottom of the staircase, awaiting their guys to file out, the two coaches suddenly realized they had a problem. “Which team goes out first?” asked Coach Martin.
Coach Vradenburg offered a wise suggestion. “We’d better have both teams go out at the same time.”
Coach Martin nodded. “Good idea.”
The coaches addressed their teams in the hallway. “Single file, boys. Devils over on this side.” He pointed to the left wall.
“Waves over here,” Coach Vradenburg called. “Stay to the right. Single file.”
The two teams formed parallel lines, with opposing players side by side as they moved up the staircase. Eddie stood next to Bill. He quickly glanced over at Bill, but he was looking straight ahead. Eddie returned his gaze forward. Bill sneaked a look at Eddie, who was now looking straight ahead.
Roy Jackson, who was standing behind Bill, kept staring and smiling at Alton. Sensing Roy’s gaze, Alton turned his head and asked Roy, “Do you see something funny?”
“I sure do,” Roy said and then looked straight ahead.
Alton turned away, his fists clenched, his lips pinched tightly shut, and his face contorted into an angry, disgusted expression.
“Okay, let’s go,” both coaches said.
With the team assistants holding the doors wide open, both teams jogged onto the gym floor, followed by their coaches. The pent-up energy and excitement in the gymnasium exploded in thunderous cheers as the fans jumped to their feet, screaming approval and applauding their teams. The cheerleaders leaped and twirled, waving their pom-poms as the teams peeled off toward opposite baskets and began their layup drills. The crowd continued its unabated yelling, causing a deafening roar.
On the sidelines, both principals’ stoic faces expressed concern. It was no longer conjecture—more than ever they realized how easily this crowd could become a riot. Principal Malone noted the police officers, who were already on their feet at various points around the gymnasium.
As the teams continued to warm up, Principal Herron’s eyes narrowed when he caught sight of Terry Poster and his cohorts strutting down the sideline. Herron eyed them all the way until they were right in front of him. “Do you boys have seats yet?” the principal demanded.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to find some,” Terry responded.
“You’ve already got them,” Principal Herron said, drawing the attention of a nearby police officer. “We’ve saved them just for you. Right here, next to me.” The principal patted the row he had saved. He smiled at Terry and his friends as the police officer nodded toward the seats. Terry glared at Principal Herron, but after a slight hesitation, he and his friends reluctantly sat down.
The gymnasium’s scoreboard buzzer sounded and the teams bounded to the sidelines. Several players applied rosin to their hands to counteract perspiration. The coaches raised their hands, calling the players to huddle. While the court was clear, the Gallatin cheerleaders ran out and did a cute cheer, followed by the Union cheerleaders, who performed a similar cheer.
Meanwhile, a final group of stragglers found space to sit on the floor all around the court off the sidelines and even under both baskets. Interestingly, even this group of procrastinators quickly separated along racial lines—with one group sitting on one side and the other on the opposite side.
The buzzer sounded, and the referees waved the teams to center court for the opening jump ball. With Bill jumping for Union and Alton representing Gallatin, the referee stepped briskly in between the two centers and tossed the ball into the air above them. Alton had a couple of inches of height on Bill, and despite Bill’s outstanding ability to jump, Alton got the opening tip, tapping the ball to Gallatin’s guard, who drove hard up court to the cheers of the Gallatin crowd.
Union started off playing man-to-man defense, so the Gallatin forwards set a double screen on Eddie’s man. Union’s Joe Malone tried to squeeze by the screen formed by the two Gallatin players but caught an elbow and stumbled into the stragglers under the bucket, leaving Eddie all alone in the corner. A number of Union spectators cried, “Foul!” but the refs didn’t see it that way, and Eddie dumped in a wide-open fifteen-foot jump shot. The Gallatin spectators rose to their feet as one, screaming and cheering in delight.
“Come on, Ref,” Joe complained as he passed by the referee, with the Gallatin defender in front of him. “Watch the elbows, or it’s going to be a bloody night.”
“Stop your whinin’, ya big baby,” Alton said as Joe brought the ball back up court.
Joe didn’t appreciate Alton’s condescending tone, so with a burst of speed, he dribbled right past him. The Gallatin forward saw what happened and moved to pick up Joe, leaving Bill free under the basket. In a fancy, Harlem Globetrotters–style move, Joe wrapped the ball around his back, whipping it to Bill, who laid it in for an easy two points. The Union supporters roared in approval.
The teams seemed evenly matched, and when the audience could lay aside the tension surrounding the skin colors of the boys on the court, they were seeing some incredible high school basketball on display. Gallatin’s offense worked off Alton, the big center, with the smaller guards feeding Alton the ball high up around his shoulders. Then when the defense collapsed on Alton, the big man passed the ball back out to his teammates who had open jump shots. Union’s three big guns worked well together down low, controlling most rebounds off the boards.
The game intensified quickly. The spectators on both sides were supercharged and reacted to every play. The cheerleaders from both schools worked constantly, rallying the fans at every score.
The play got rough early on. Joe Malone dribbled shoulder-first right into Henry Hutchins, Gallatin’s first substitute. Henry went flying, and the Gallatin fans leaped angrily to their feet, protesting Joe’s charge. The referee called Joe for charging, but the Gallatin crowd was calling for blood. The Union fans returned fire, protesting the ref’s call, which was actually a good one. A matter of minutes into the game, people on both sides, black and white, were hurling insults, taunting and aiming their fury at one another. Principals Malone and Herron nervously watched the crowd in the stands more than they watched the ball game. They had expected emotions to be frazzled, but their anxiety levels became more heightened when tensions began fraying so early in the game.
Things got worse when Roy Jackson drove the lane and Eddie stood his ground in front of him, taking the brunt of Roy’s body blow, which sent Eddie sprawling on the hardwood. The referee blew his whistle and pointed at Roy, calling an offensive foul on Roy for charging.
As soon as he saw Roy ram Eddie, Buddy was on his feet, ready to take out Roy, but several of Buddy’s friends held him back. When Eddie bounced up onto his feet, unscathed, Buddy calmed down—for a while.
The next few minutes contained a barrage of missed shots by both teams, with a violent tangle of players under the baskets fighting for rebounds. Alton’s height gave him a distinct advantage over Bill and Roy, and it was clear that Roy was growing increasingly frustrated at Alton’s ability to snatch the ball out of his hands.
At the first time-out, the teams streamed off the court to wild applause. Missy and the rest of the Gallatin cheerleaders raced out to center court to lead a cheer. Not to be outdone, the Union cheerleaders responded in kind. Students and fans from both schools tried to out-cheer the other school by yelling louder and louder.
Coach Martin pulled his players in tight but still had to yell to be heard above the noise. “If they double team you like that, you gotta switch off. They’re getting too many good looks at the basket. And Roy, that center is getting inside on us. You can’t let him do that. We can’t let them have that second shot, a second chance to score. Keep him off the boards.”
Roy nodded as he wiped the perspiration off his face. It was up to him to keep the tall Gallatin center from dominating the game. When the teams broke from the time-out, it was Gallatin’s ball. Eddie missed a tough shot, but Alton grabbed the rebound and put the ball back up and in. Bill glared at Roy for letting Alton get behind him again.
The teams traded baskets. Then Joe Malone raced for a loose ball, diving after it and tipping it back into play. It was an amazing effort on Joe’s part, but he landed in the midst of the Gallatin cheerleaders, his sweaty body rubbing on the legs of two of the girls who weren’t able to get out of the way. The girls were horrified that a Negro had touched them. Joe rolled over right on top of several of the cheerleaders’ pom-poms. The Union crowd and even a number of the Gallatin parents reacted with concern for Joe, but Missy and her friends were appalled that “colored sweat” had touched their pom-poms.
Down court, Alton pulled in another rebound and tossed it back to Eddie, who sank a quick jumper. Roy shot Alton a dirty look, but Alton was simply too tall for Roy to handle. In an attempt to take out his frustration, Roy got the ball down low and dribbled straight back into Alton, hoping that he would fall off him and give him an easy jump shot. But Roy was paying too much attention to Alton and not enough to his ball control. Eddie swept by on Roy’s side and stole the ball. Eddie fired the ball to Henry, who missed a jumper and the ball bounced high off the rim. Roy and Alton went up for the rebound at the same time. Roy grabbed the ball and furiously swung his elbow around his body, slamming it into Alton’s forehead. Alton tumbled to the floor in a heap as blood oozed out around the wound.
Coach Vradenburg and the Green Wave trainer rushed onto the court to attend to the groggy, bleeding player. The refs whistled the game to a halt. The gymnasium erupted in pandemonium! The angry Gallatin crowd leaped up, yelling and screaming, while the Union fans vociferously demonstrated their approval of the rough play.
Police stepped onto the court, facing the bleachers and the crowd. Principals Herron and Malone bounced to their feet. This was their worst nightmare, the scenario they had hoped would not happen.
Terry Poster and his racist cohorts also jumped up and screamed at Roy and the referees. “Get that monkey off the court,” Terry hollered.
Union fans heard Terry and yelled obscenities back at him. Principal Herron stepped in front of Terry and pressed his hand down on Terry’s shoulder. “Sit down,” the principal commanded while applying pressure and forcing the angry boy down to the bleachers. Principal Herron looked up into the stands and caught a glimpse of Reginald Poster, Terry’s dad, smirking as though he was pleased with Terry’s outburst. To the elder Poster, any bad blood was a plus for his cause.
The Green Wave trainers helped Alton to his feet, still applying pressure to stop the bleeding from the cut on his forehead. They propped him up, one on each side, as he staggered to the locker room. As Alton passed by, Eddie ran over and gave him a light pat on the back.
The referees charged Roy with a technical foul for unsportsmanlike conduct, causing the fans on both sides of the court to respond loudly.
“Throw him out of the game, Ref!” Green Wave fans clamored.
“A technical? For what? That was a good move. That boy just got in the way of a legal rebound,” Union supporters hollered.
The referee called both teams off the court while Eddie went to the foul line to shoot the technical. He took a deep breath and poured the ball through the net.
Eddie trotted back to the bench to join his teammates. As he did, a crushed cup landed on the court. Then another flew through the air. Someone also tossed a cardboard tray onto the floor. The crowd was out of control.
Principal Herron and several teachers tried to calm things down. The police once again stepped out onto the court, glaring into the stands and watching for those who were throwing the debris onto the playing area. The Negro Vietnam vets stood to their feet in anticipation of a more overt battle.
The following announcement blared over the public address system: “Ladies and gentlemen, please refrain from throwing things onto the court.” Several young boys brought out large janitorial brooms and swept up the garbage.
In the midst of the mayhem, Coach Martin called his players back to a huddle in front of the bench. He didn’t say anything directly, but he stared daggers at Roy.
“You said to keep him off the boards!” Roy offered.
Coach Martin ignored Roy’s comment. Roy glanced back to the Union stands and caught the eye of his grandfather, who also gave him an admonishing look. Roy ducked back into the huddle.
With time-out called on the floor, Principal Herron walked over to Principal Malone, and they discussed their feelings about the incident. As he talked, Principal Herron looked up toward the Gallatin bleachers. He nodded toward Terry Poster’s father, along with four of his tough-looking, middle-aged friends. “If those guys are not card-carrying members of the KKK, the Klan should sue them for back dues!” Principal Malone cracked just a hint of a smile.
With the blood cleaned up and the debris disposed of, the referee blew the whistle indicating that play should resume.
Less than five minutes had run off the clock since the opening jump ball.
The crowd was stunned when the player Coach Vradenburg put in to replace Alton was none other than James “Stud” Johnson. Standing six feet four inches tall and two hundred pounds, Johnson was one of the few black people who attended Gallatin High School. But rather than having a calming effect, his presence on the court seemed to stoke the fires. The game resumed with a heightened sense of anger and resentment. By quarter’s end, Gallatin held a two-point lead: 15–13.
“After one quarter, we’ve got ourselves some kind of game,” Al told his WHIN radio listeners.
“That’s right, Al,” Jesse jumped in. “The fans have not stopped screaming since the opening buzzer. I’ve never seen anything like it!”
The Gallatin cheerleaders took the court and performed one of their perfectly executed cheers, which ended in a pyramid with Missy perched on top of the other girls. It was all very nice but rather bland and predictable.
Olivia said, “Come on, girls. Let’s shake it out there this time.” The Union girls kicked things up a notch by performing a sultry routine, with plenty of wiggle and jiggle. Although the Union fans loved it, Mr. Malone was not amused. The Gallatin cheerleaders stared at their Union counterparts. With their hands on their hips, Missy and her troupe acted absolutely appalled.
The second quarter opened with Eddie attempting to be more aggressive. With Gallatin’s tallest player out of the game, Union had easy pickings when it came to rebounds. Besides that, the Gallatin offense, trying to work through the center, James Johnson, a second-stringer, gave Bill the opportunity to block more shots. He took full advantage, swatting away several potential two-pointers. The Union crowd crowed loudly.
Union took more chances when they had the ball. Joe and Roy were able to get off more shots from underneath, and Bill sank a long hook shot from the foul line.
Eddie dribbled into a trap while cutting through the key and got sandwiched between Union’s two big guys. He lost his balance and was tipping over as he came close to falling out of bounds. But just as he toppled, he drilled the ball backward off Roy’s leg. Roy winced and the ball bounced out of bounds.
Eddie’s quick thinking worked. The referee blew the whistle and indicated that the ball remained in Gallatin’s possession.
Roy glared at Eddie as he trotted back onto the court and then purposely bumped him chest to chest. Roy was bigger and stronger, but Eddie didn’t back down. He pushed him away, and Roy came back for more. The referees separated the boys from a potential fight, but since they didn’t see how it started, they didn’t charge either one with a foul.
The crowd yelled ugly comments at the officials. Buddy Bruce was on his feet, ready to leap over the railing. Eddie cast a warning look at Buddy.
The teams exchanged the lead several times during the second quarter. With only ten seconds left, Union was on top, 29–27. Henry brought the ball in to Eddie, who dribbled rapidly and deliberately up court, looking for an opening. Two Union players tried to trap him in the backcourt, but Eddie maneuvered his way through them. Escaping the double team, however, had taken too long; the clock had nearly run out.
With none of his teammates open, from just over the half-court line, Eddie took a chance. He let fly a desperate long shot, the ball soaring so high in the air that it looked as though it might smack against the large steel ceiling beams. But just as the buzzer sounded, Swish! Eddie’s amazing shot went through the net, tying the score at the half.
The Green Wave fans went crazy.
Eddie trotted off court toward the locker room, acting as though sinking a shot from midcourt happened every day. His teammates joined him, slapping him on the back as the gymnasium fell into bedlam, with Gallatin fans roaring and applauding and Union fans yelling in disappointment.
The police quickly resumed their positions along the sidelines as the teams went through the doors to the downstairs locker rooms for a fifteen-minute half-time break.
With the last of the players off the court, an awkward tension filled the gymnasium as the spectators stopped cheering and settled into their seats or spilled out of the bleachers, heading for the restrooms or snack bars. Others seemed eager to get outside the school to light up their cigarettes. Each encounter between Negro fans and white fans held explosive potential, so except for those people looking to start some trouble, most everyone moved with a sense of caution.
Jesse and Al, who looked as though they had been in a street brawl, were at their microphones recapping the opening two quarters. With their ties askew, their hair mussed, and their faces slick with perspiration, they were emotionally wrung out. “It’s halftime here in Springfield,” Jesse told the listening audience, “with the game tied at twenty-nine all. And what a first half it has been! We’ll be back with all the highlights after this commercial message.”