Most People I Knew in Texas Had More Hair under Their Arms in Fifth Grade Than I Do Now

I used to play basketball with this guy who’d call everything ‘fucking gay’. I would score a point and he would say, ‘That was a fucking gay point.’ My friend never did well at school. One time I said, ‘How’d you go on the English test?’ and he shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Fucking gay.’

His dad was a basketball coach. Sometimes when I went over to their house, his dad would make us run drills. He had slicked-back hair, and his face was always red. He’d make us run suicides in the street while he drank ‘tinnies’ of something. After the run we would shoot free throws, and every time we missed he would shout ‘Again!’ and ‘Fuck!’ and ‘Gay!’ The family was obsessed with professional wrestling. After ‘training’, everyone sat around the television, eating chicken and yelling. His mum kept bringing me more chicken. I said, ‘It’s okay … I’m full,’ and his dad smirked and said, ‘Eat up, boy. How you gonna make it if you don’t bulk up?’ and I kept thinking: make what? as his dad began yelling, spilling beer over his t-shirt because ‘Goldberg’ had just ‘pile-drived’ someone through a table.