Chapter 69: Sounds Good to Me

Going into downtown San Antonio for evening dinner was rare for the Murphy family. Of course, they went out to dinner occasionally but not very far from their neighborhood. Raymond had ordered the women in his life to a day of indulgence at their favorite beauty spa to get pampered and eventually have their makeup done. While the womenfolk were enjoying their day of pampering, the men folk went to fill a glaring hole in the younger Murphy man’s life: the lack of a nice suit.

Tim had never needed or wanted a good suit before. Because of his normal and terrible self-doubt, exacerbated by hearing his coach’s perfect description of his body (a pear with toothpick legs), he wasn’t interested in nice or fashionable clothing. It also said something about the special events attended by the Murphy family that Tim had not needed anything like that, since there were no weddings or funerals before.

Now, however, Tim was becoming proud of his new body and beginning to open up to people who approached him. That took a while to understand and overcome. He was a Ted Talk-level expert on blending in with your surroundings in middle school. No one noticed him. He did nothing to be seen, so no one paid attention to him. Nowadays, everyone notices him. He thought he did nothing to stand out, but still, he was thrust into the spotlight constantly. It was a strange transition for him to make.

Thank goodness for his friend Johnnie Boynes. Even if they rarely said more than two words to each other outside of class, Johnnie was Tim’s best friend during middle school. Back then, the focus of the people was on Johnnie and not the shy, tubby kid who seemed to disappear whenever someone visited with Johnnie. Johnnie was rare: a brain and a jock. He was a star of all the teams in middle school and also belonged to several advanced placement classes throughout middle school.

That was where Tim and Johnnie had met: in the honors advanced placement history classes all through sixth, seventh and eighth grades. Sixth grade was Texas History,. The class featured a prerequisite two-month-long deep uperficial study of the Battle of the Alamo was well covered in this honors class. In seventh grade, students took an in-depth look into how the Texas government operates. Finally, in eighth grade, they’d both had regular American history (except it was the honors variant), which had them focus on how Texas influenced the rest of the country and the world. They paid particular attention to the time before Texas joined the USA – when it operated as a standalone country after throwing off the manacles of oppressive Mexican power. “Texasizing” the history taught to the gifted Texas children was very popular.

“All right, here we are,” Raymond exclaimed as he parked the car in front of a short row of businesses along a busy street. Several other vehicles were parked in front and alongside a small tailor shop.

Tim was shaken awake after getting lost in his head, reminiscing about how his life had changed from middle school. “What is ‘here,’ Dad?” Tim asked as he shook off the seat belt. His dad grabbed him before he reached to open the door to get out.

“This is Brubakers. It is a very well-established tailor shop, and it is where we will buy you a new suit,” he explained. Then he looked down like he was ashamed of something before continuing. “Your other present won’t be ready until some time this week, so sorry about that,” he continued but quickly returned with a smile, “Come on, then! We must get you looking good tonight. We can’t be upstaged by your mother and sister, now, can we?”

“I guess not, but I wouldn’t mind if they overshadowed me,” Tim said dryly. Tim’s dad quickly went around the front of the SUV and stood before his son, looking up a couple of inches to his eyes.

“You know what ... neither would I,” Raymond responded. Then he lightly punched his son in the arm. “Come on, let’s get you a suit!”

Tim smiled as his father skipped every other step to climb them faster. He followed in his father’s footsteps effortlessly. Raymond opened the front door to the small shop and walked up to the counter with Tim following close behind.

“Good morning, sirs! Welcome to Brubakers. How may I assist you?”

The older man was rail thin and impeccably dressed. Of course, Tim didn’t know what style of suit this tailor was wearing, but it looked like it must have taken a long time to get dressed for work every morning.

“Well, good sir, I am here today to help my son purchase his first suit. It does not need to fit perfectly for tonight, just fit very well for his birthday dinner with his family this evening,” Raymond disclosed and presented Tim to the man behind the counter like Vanna White unveiling the selected letters.

The older man stood straighter, studying Tim through the eyeglasses suspended over the top ridge of his nose. They looked ready to fall off his face. “Oh, my! He is a big one, isn’t he?”

“I hope you have something in double extra large,” Raymond joked.

“Well, I think we have a few things that could fit, and with a few simple adjustments, we can make them seem tailor-made. Luckily, your son is wide on top and not so much in the middle,” the man chuckled at his own joke. Tim and his father also politely grinned.

“Hey, Jacob,” a booming voice bellowed from one of the changing rooms in the back of the shop. “Did you mislabel the waist size on these pants? They don’t fit anymore,” a large, tall black man called out. He stuck his head out from behind a burgundy curtain separating the store from the dressing areas. “Oh, oops, sorry, I didn’t hear anyone else here. I can wait.”

“Well, of course, you can wait, David, but stay away from those pastries! Maybe they are the reason for the change in waist size and not some phantom alterations on my part.” the older man yelled to the back of the store. While coming out from behind the counter, the tailor continued yelling at the other patron in the store, “Better yet, why not put your jeans back on and come on out and meet a young man getting his first suit today.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll be right out.”

When Jacob circled the counter, it was easy to see that he had been standing on a riser. He picked up a paper pad and pulled a cloth tape measure (draped just like a stethoscope!) from around his neck. The man was barely over five feet tall.

“Welcome to Brubakers. I am Jacob Brubaker. I am the third generation of Brubaker men to run this store.” Looking at Tim, he said, “Now, we know this is your first visit here,” then, to Raymond, he continued, “but you, sir, look familiar to me. Oh, wait, six years ago ... single-breasted, classic-fit suit with a single-vented blazer and cuffed slacks. Am I correct?”

Raymond stood with his mouth open for a moment. “Um, yes, absolutely right! I can’t believe you remember that! After all, it was six years ago,” Raymond answered, “and I haven’t been back since. Absolutely amazing!”

“Of course, he can remember that. Since he doesn’t need to keep any societal pleasantries in his mind, Jacob has great retention of every suit he ever made for any client,” the tall, well-muscled black man explained as he took a seat near the counter. He appeared still in good shape, and the added inches around his waist did not seem to belong there.

“Raymond, do you still fit into the slacks, or have you grown your belly like Mr. Robinson here?” Jacob, the tailor, inquired. The earlier, well-traded banter between the two men amused the father and son, but now both father and son were frozen with open mouths.

Jacob and David Robinson looked at each other and then began laughing at the reaction.

The former San Antonio Spurs basketball star stood back up from the tall chair and approached to shake first Raymond’s and then Tim’s hand. “Whenever I’ve got some time, I like to come back here and either get something fixed or maybe get a new suit. Jacob and I have become good friends, so I tend to stay too long for a visit.”

“Well, today, old friend, it is a perfect day for a visit since I have only one client today,” Jacob said and turned back to Tim. “So, a birthday celebration? What are you ... eighteen or nineteen?”

“Fifteen, sir.”

“Yes, my son, here -- Tim -- just turned fifteen and needs a proper suit. Tonight, as a family, we are going to Bohanon’s downtown to celebrate his birthday, his sister’s much-improved and continued excellent grades, and his success on the football field.”

“Oh, wait a minute. My boy Corey was telling me about a local kid destroying everybody on the football field. He used to play football at San Antonio Christian, and apparently, he still follows the high school teams,” David Robinson exclaimed as he pointed to Tim’s general area. Then he rubbed a nonexistent beard. “Mayhem, right? Something like that.”

“Something exactly like that,” Raymond gloated as Tim once again shook David Robinson’s offered hand.”

“Shoot. He called me last night and told me to watch some highlights from your game. He was telling me how he thought you might be better now than any of the guys he played with at Notre Dame,” he effused.

Jacob pushed him out of the way so Tim could stand next to a small, tiered staircase off to the side of the store. “Come this way, Timothy.” Jacob paused and placed a hand on Tim’s arm. “Tim is short for Timothy, yes?” As Tim smiled and nodded, the two continued to the tiered stairs.

“I had this made when David began bringing me all these unbelievably tall men I needed to measure for suits. I could not reach the correct heights for measuring at first.” Jacob began, pointing to and explaining the tiered stairs.

“David, do you remember when we first began trying to measure you and your friends correctly?” Jacob continued with his story without waiting for an answer, “Anyway, I had to stand on small stepladders. Ugh, it was a mess. Finally, I came up with this idea. I had to move some inventory, but the new system works well. I can get up high enough on those seven-foot-tall basketball players and measure them correctly rather than guesstimating like I did for David’s first suit,” Jacob laughed.

“But the suit came out great,” David gushed once Jacob took a breath, and he could finally add to the conversation.

“Ah, thank you, David. Yes. It was a very nice suit – slim lines and very business-like,” Jacob commented while getting lost in his thoughts for a moment.

“Here. Stand here, please,” Jacob asked Tim as the tailor stepped onto the first steps of the rising dais on the side of the store. After ascending a couple more steps, he could comfortably read the tape measure while taking measurements across Tim’s broad shoulders, around his biceps, and down to his wrists.

“Well, look at that! Your arms are exactly the same size. That is unusual. Not a problem, though.”

Jacob seemed to be deep in thought while working out the measurements. The shop owner was finishing up when he had a thought and brought his thought to words.

“I’ll bet you are having trouble ripping sleeves on t-shirts. Correct?” he challenged, and Tim nodded yes. “Well, no problem. Here, let me measure your biceps at normal, then we shall measure when fully flexed.”

Jacob wrapped the measuring tape around Tim’s bicep and wrote down the number. “Okay, flex.” Jacob nearly dropped the tape and blanched when he uttered, “Oof, that will be a problem. Okay, have a seat, and I’ll be right back. I have to check the inventory to see if I got some sleeved shirts that you can get your impressive arms through without them ripping.”

He tapped Tim on the shoulder and pointed toward one of the empty chairs near his father and the legendary Spurs player. From where Tim was standing, the two men talked like they were long-lost friends. “I’m pretty sure I have the coat, but I’m not so sure about the shirts. Give me a moment, and I’ll be right back.” The tailor descended the steps and promptly disappeared down a darkened hallway at the rear of the store.

When Tim rejoined his dad in a chair, he tried to catch up with their conversation.

“How did you two meet, if you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Robinson?” Raymond asked from his seat.

“Please, call me David.”

Raymond nodded in understanding.

“Actually, it goes back to my first year with the Spurs. After my two years in the navy were finished, I came back to town to take pictures and show the fans that I was finally coming to play. I had an older suit that I had adjusted for a better fit, but it was still a little bit too small ... maybe just a size or so. I wore it, and no one said anything about it. Coach Pop, who was an assistant coach at the time, took me aside after we finished and asked me if I had another suit. I was a little embarrassed and could not say anything. Pop just tapped me on the hand like a grandpa talking to his grandson and told me to come with him. We got into his Cadillac, and Pop brought me here. Met Jacob, who now pretty much makes all the suits for any Spurs player who has ever needed one,” David accounted their history together.

“If it wasn’t for all these tall, skinny basketball players, this place might not have made it. Eventually, I convinced him to let me help him grow the business. So what did he do with the money? Jacob bought the entire little outdoor mall here, and now he collects rent from the other businesses. It doesn’t matter if there are not a lot of suits flying out of this place.

“I know I’ll never go anywhere else to get a suit, that’s for sure. I got everybody who goes through the Spurs organization to come here for suits,” David continued. David raised up a bit from his chair and twisted to shout to the back. “Hey, Jacob, who was it you said didn’t buy a suit from you?”

Jacob came out of another doorway with several white button-down shirts under his arm. “Tony Parker. He was the first one, but he had a good reason. A family acquaintance was also a tailor, and they made him a very good suit. At least he looked good on draft night when he came out of the stands to get his baseball cap,” Jacob illuminated as he placed the shirts on the counter in front of him. “I even made suits for Miss Becky. She had two or three, but when she made it official she was moving on to Las Vegas, she came in, and I made about ten different suits for her. She looks very good for a basketball coach if I do say so myself.

“Now, young man. You have a very difficult problem. Your body is undoubtedly in incredible shape. You should be proud of it, but the only problem I have is the largest shirts I have will fit, but I worry that if you flex your muscles too hard, it could rip the sleeves. I have already put in an order for larger-sized arms-- not longer, wider – just in case.” He mimicked stretching with his hands. “But since your father said this suit is for tonight, I think we can take a chance with the shirts. The blazer will not be a problem. I have several that are the right size, so if you do rip the arm sleeve on the shirt, no real problem! Just put the blazer back on and try not to sweat profusely,” Jacob dryly pointed out, then laughed., and David responded with a deep, resonating chuckle.

“He used to say the same kinda thing to the players I’d bring in for suits. If you rip those shirts, that is all kinds of impressive, in and of itself,” the Spurs legend said from his seat while absentmindedly rifling through swatches of cloth patterns.

Tim went to try on the first shirt. It was a simple, light, nearly pale, blue button-down. The shirt looked like one of Seinfeld’s dreaded puffy pirate shirts. Tim put his left arm through the sleeve, and while he initially felt the coolness of the shirt, he then felt the tightness of the sleeve itself, especially on the shoulders. Tim put his other arm through its sleeve and was again surprised by the build of the shirt. Both sleeves tore, not on the seams but in the middle of the sleeves, after Tim flexed too hard. He didn’t think they would rip, and he could not help himself.

Rip.

“Hmmph. I guess I was smart in giving you the cheaper shirt first,” Jacob jested but leaned over to fake-whisper to his father. “You could see it in his eyes. He needed to test it.”

David was fighting not to burst out laughing with a hand over his mouth.

Jacob picked up a second shirt of the same color. “Here. Trust me. This will hold but do not ‘Hulk’ out,” Jacob directed while Tim tried keeping his blush from enveloping him completely.

After trying a couple of different styles, Tim and his father Raymond left the store with a new suit and shirt for the evening and an appointment to return to the store in three weeks so he could try on the new suit coats and shirts Jacob was making for him. If they fit correctly and comfortably, he will get a couple more made in different colors.

The drive home was energized as the two Murphy men sang along with the radio. They had similar tastes in music since Raymond regularly introduced his son to the music he liked growing up, and they always sang together in the car. The singing brought up a memory for Tim -- the next letter from his older self to his younger self.

Hey there, Tim. I figure you have either just got into the playoffs for the first time or are about to, and you need to fight to the end of the season for that last playoff spot. Either way, you’re running up on having nothing too interesting going on, and you can only chase tail for so long until that becomes boring. Nobody wants that. So why not open your life to some new experiences? Don’t forget! I told you to learn some martial arts. It might be a good time to try that out or maybe even music. Your new friends can certainly help you out with those, for sure.

Anyway, I’m just warning you from the future. Don’t make athletics the end-all-be-all of your life. Open up and try something new. Hell, you might run into something I never even dreamed of back then. That would be very cool, for sure. Until next time!

Tim

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Were the suits my present?”

Raymond turned and smiled at his son briefly. “No, but I was supposed to find a way to surreptitiously find out what else you wanted.”

“I’m thinking my new friends might be able to help me learn how to play a musical instrument of some kind, you know, like a guitar or maybe a piano. Well, I guess a keyboard would be better for that.”

Raymond considered what his son had said. “Yeah, I could see that. Is there any particular reason why you’re thinking this way?”