The boys played fierce in the scrimmage and began to trash talk each other after blocked shots and made baskets. Denham and Nigel were covering each other. In one series, Nigel pulled up for a jumpshot and drained it over top of Denham’s outstretched hand.
“Eat that!” Nigel said, jogging backward to his end of the court.
Not to be outdone, Denham came down the court. He drove directly at Nigel, then stopped suddenly, leaving Nigel stumbling. Denham crossed the ball between his legs to the left, then crossed it behind his back to his right and drove to the net. Nigel recovered, but not quickly enough. He fouled Denham across his arm as he laid the ball in. As Coach Shabaka had warned, he let the foul go and didn’t blow the whistle.
“And one!” Denham yelled. Then, as he jogged by Nigel, he murmured, “You know you can’t guard me, tubby baby. You never could. Not yesterday, not today, not ever.”
Nigel started to bubble with anger. He became reckless with the ball and tried to go straight back at Denham. He forgot his teammates as if he and Denham were playing one-on-one. Nigel tried his own crossover dribble, but Denham poked the ball away. Nigel got the ball back and tried again. This time he tried to crossover and do a spin move toward the basket, but Denham wasn’t fooled by the move. He waited for Nigel to rise, then slapped Nigel’s shot out of the air and out of bounds. Denham wagged his index finger in Nigel’s direction saying, “No, no, no.” He laughed as Nigel went to recover the ball.
Nigel’s anger continued to grow. He clenched his fists before he picked up the ball to pass it inbounds.
“Hold on there, boys,” Coach Shabaka said, removing his phone from his pocket. “I’ve got a call. I’m going to take this in the hallway. Kiya, you keep the game going. I’ll be right back.”
“Sure thing, Dad,” Kiya said, and blew the whistle to restart the game.
Nigel stood out of bounds, looking for an open player to throw the inbound pass to. Denham stood face to face with Nigel, hands out, trying to block Nigel’s vision.
“You might as well just give me the ball now,” said Denham with a smirk. “Because the next time you touch it it’ll be a turnover. I’m going to take it from you like taking candy from a big fat baby.” He patted Nigel on his belly.
Nigel’s anger was near maximum level now. He wanted to throw the ball at Denham. He wanted to smoosh his face with it and laugh at Denham rolling on the floor in pain.
Kiya said, “Come on, Nigel, five-second count. You got to toss the ball in.”
Nigel held the ball behind his head as if he was about to do a soccer throw-in. Then he faked a pass right into Denham’s face.
“No, Nigel. Don’t!” Kiya screamed.
Denham flinched as the ball grazed his cheekbone.
“What’s that for!” Denham yelled, knocking the basketball out of Nigel’s hands. “It’s just a game. You trying to throw hands over this? What’s your problem, yo?”
“You’re my problem.”
“So what you going to do about it? You really acting like a big pudgy baby now. Let’s just finish the game.”
“I ain’t playing no more. I don’t want you on this team. No one does.”
“Nigel, stop,” yelled Kiya. She tried to get in between the boys.
The other players crowded around them as Nigel continued. “No one here likes you. They’re all pretending. Kash don’t like you. He’s pretending. Omari hates you. Asim, Amritpal and Tony, they pretending too. They don’t like you. Even Kiya is pretending. She never liked you and she never will.”
Denham looked around at the other Power players. They all dropped their heads and wouldn’t look him in the eye. He looked at Kiya. She was shaking her head. Her eyes were pleading with Nigel to stop.
“Notice in the beginning no one was passing the ball to you,” Nigel drove on. “Thought it was strange, didn’t you! Wasn’t no accident. That was cuz of me. I told everyone not to pass to you. But then Coach got in the way of that. We never wanted you on this team. Not even your parents like you. Your father never wants to come for you. I bet he doesn’t want you either, and your moms has no time for you. She don’t even want to watch you play. You’re just a stupid reject. I saw when they were arguing outside the other day. None of them wanted to take you. They getting divorced and neither of them wants to keep you. They going to turn you over to the homeless kids’ shelter. No one wants you.”
Denham lunged at Nigel and grabbed him by his neck. The two boys scuffled on the ground, rolling around as the other players jumped in, trying to separate them. Coach Shabaka ran back into the gym, drawn by the commotion. “What’s going on here?!” he yelled. He wrestled the boys apart. “That’s enough! You two, to the bench now! Cool off. The rest of you. Play four on four. Kiya get them started.”
Kiya nodded nervously as she watched Nigel and Denham stomp to the bench. They sat on opposite sides while Coach Shabaka spoke to them.
“I don’t want to know what happened or who started it. None of that,” said Coach Shabaka, shaking his head. “I’m going to tell you guys one thing. You are teammates. This team is a family. You don’t have to like your family, but you do have to work together. I’m not going to force you to apologize. We’re just going to pound it out. So come closer, raise your fists, give each other a pound, look each other in the eye and say, ‘Family.’ Done.”
The boys did it reluctantly. Coach Shabaka left them on the bench with a warning that if they started fighting again, they would be banned from playing the playoff game on Saturday. Nigel and Denham went back to sitting on opposite sides of the bench and didn’t say another word.