Ty & Cinda, A Tale of Forbidden Love - S01 E33

2 weeks ago

Ty & Cinda, A Tale of Forbidden Love - S01 E33

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 33

Orientation Week was here before we realized. We skipped some of the activities like the campus tour, but did take placement exams in English, math, and Spanish. I wasn't surprised to learn that both of us were exempted from Freshman English. I qualified for advanced math and would start Spanish at level four. Cinda had to take basic math, but would start Spanish at level three. Overall, we were quite satisfied. Then we went to the Freshman Mixer. It was Cinda's idea.

To say the arena was crowded would have been an understatement. I escorted both Cinda and Juanita although I could barely understand why we were there. "We should try to meet our classmates, Ty." That's what Cinda had told me, but all we met were a bunch of horny guys who were less than pleased to learn that Cinda was married and Juanita going steady with a star on the football team. Truthfully, all the guys took the rejection well except one black kid who wouldn't leave Cinda alone. I finally stopped his advances by suggesting that we go home. Cinda agreed. I couldn't believe that the guy followed us all the way to my truck. I was just about to challenge him, but Cinda stopped me. In retrospect a good beating and a few broken bones might have been best. I still remembered many of my karate moves even though I hadn't taken any lessons in more than two years.

Classes went well; we studied for hours every day just as we had done in high school, and we went to every home football game, sitting at the forty yard line about twenty rows up rather than at the goal line with the other students. I had bought four season tickets so Juanita and Momma could join us. We cheered as Monroe had one outstanding game after another. We usually took them out to dinner after before retiring to our home with Monroe and Juanita enjoying each other in our second bedroom.

Basketball practice began in mid-October with a midnight practice which was mostly a show for the fans. We finished in less than an hour having done only the most basic drills. I showed up the following afternoon and was almost dressed when a big guy, at least six foot eight and 230 pounds walked over. I thought he was going to introduce himself, but instead he ran his mouth in an attempt to embarrass me. "You're okay at making layups, white boy, but today you're going to get your ass kicked. You up against the big boys now. You might as well go home before you get hurt." He began to laugh as i walked off to the trainer to have my ankles taped.

I saw Coach Beamon with a bemused smile a few aisles away

then Everett, the guard I'd played against last year, approached the then Everett, the guard I'd played against last year, approached the big guy. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea who that is?"

"Yeah some skinny white kid who's gonna get his head handed to himself." I closed the door and hopped onto the table. was all set and on the court ten minutes later. Remembering my father's advice I planned on letting my actions speak for me.

We ran some offensive plays and some defensive drills. I worked mostly with the second unit until Coach Beamon blew his whistle and called us to one end of the court. "I want to see some one-on- one-offense and defense. Harden. Feldner come on out. I want to see five consecutive tries at both 'O' and D." I found myself facing off against the same player who had threatened to run me off the court. We shot foul shots to see who would go on offense first. I could tell that Harden's shot was mediocre at best. I deliberately missed preferring to begin on defense.

Starting at the top of the key, Harden had barely begun his first dribble when I made my move. The ball had just bounced when I flicked it away, stealing it cleanly while he stood there still expecting the ball to bounce back up into his hand. I gave it back to him and went back to defense. Twice more I stole the ball before he completed even a single dribble. Some of our teammates were beginning to laugh.

He turned his back for next try, dribbling first to his right before pivoting back to his left thinking he'd be able to drive all the way to the basket. Unfortunately, I saw what he was about and stepped Into his path just as he began the drive. He stumbled into me and fell onto my body. "That's a foul," he exclaimed.

"Yeah, it was, but it was on you, Glenn. That was a charge." He jumped up irate and stomped back to his starting position at the top of the key. This time he turned, faced me, and went up for a long jumper, the ball clanging off the front rim. I had the rebound before he had the time to react and follow the shot. Now it was my turn.

I held the ball in my right hand before dribbling quickly right, reversing quickly with a behind-the-back dribble. I changed direction again going between my legs and when he crossed his legs to keep up with me I knew I had him. He fell to the floor when I changed direction again and dribbled by him for an uncontested layup. My next try was simpler-just a quick dribble right and a Jumper I drilled cleanly through the net. Twice more I used simple quick dribble and shoot moves, shooting with both hands, and twice more I scored on him.

He bodied up against me on my final try, thinking to out muscle me, but I'd dealt with that tactic before. I dribbled away from the basket and he let me go. I turned once was about twenty-eight feet from the basket, jumped up and fired off a long jumper. It was a move and shot I'd practiced over and over during the summer. My form was perfect as I squared up to the basket and released the ball exactly at the apex of my leap. It was a beautiful shot. We broke up into twos and threes for foul shots once it passed through the hoop.

I was in the shower when Harden approached. "You embarrassed me!"

"Yeah, I did, but I hope you realize you were set up."

He stood there his muscular black body slowly relaxing as he began to think. "What do you mean?"

"How often do you plan offensive moves twenty feet from the basket? Not often I'd guess, while I live there. I'm a guard; you're what...a power forward or a center? I'll bet you usually work less than ten feet from the basket." I extended my hand. "I'm Ty...Ty Feldner."

"Oh, fuck I just realized who you are the guy on that banner." He laughed and I joined him until he extended his hand to meet mine. "Glenn." We shook and washed up. Fifteen minutes later I was on my way back to Cinda, dinner, and a long evening of study followed by my favorite activity of the day-making love to my beautiful wife.