Chapter 5

We went back and forth, and front and back until we were tired. Dad and I doubled mom, but Roxy politely refused.

My season averages were 19 Assists, 17 Rebounds, and 44 points ... pretty good, huh?

My ‘35’ is the best-selling jersey in both pro and college basketball. I wear one with my name on the back wherever I travel, and Roxy has pens for me to use, on either the home or away jersey.

I found out online that 171 basketball players have worn the number 35 over the years: (These are a few of the current NBA guys wearing it)

Marvin Bagley
Trevor Booker
Willie Reed
Kevin Durant
Christian Wood

Wearing one in Nebraska isn’t as bad as you would think. K-State seems to have fans everywhere, and any part of that I am part of makes me feel great!

I earn a dollar for each one sold, but that money is held in trust until I am through with college.

Dad is my manager, for now. His personal credibility has gone up where he works. During the day mom works part time at a local area Re-Max

We pulled up to the house on the south end of the 1/3-acre property on 10th Street and Hayward Avenue seeing our mother in short shorts and a bikini top. Wow, lookin good mom!

I honked the horn and she got up and waved, showing what appeared to be a baby belly!

We got out and asked the obvious question-She is quite positive the baby is Dads’!

My next game is against UCLA at the Galen Center in Los Angeles. Coach gave me two days off to rest up before I play opposite Moses Brown who is 7ft1, so I am giving up three inches.

Dad had put up a hoop for me with all the lines of demarcation. Mom told me the ball was in the garage, which is where I found it.

Roxy was cool about it and was my rebounder as I moved around the perimeter of the key making every shot.

I moved to the 3-point line and made 25 consecutive shots starting at one baseline and taking a step to the left with each one.

“FOODS READY!” we heard June say, so I had the ball at the top of the key and tried a real flashy dunk.

“Got it!” dad said having gotten out his iPhone. “Why don’t you do that more often, you could score 50 points a night doing that!”

“Coach Weber wants the forwards to do the primary shooting. I make my shots after taking a rebound and bringing it home with a dunk.”

“Does he know that you can do what you just did?”

Very hesitatingly, I said, “N-No! I really didn’t get as much support from my dad as I had hoped for!”

“What?”

“Dad, you don’t remember when I was eight years old and couldn’t even get the ball up to the hoop. You actually lowered the rim to seven feet so I could get the ball to it. I practically never heard, ‘Attaboy’ or ‘Try again, son.’ You were working so hard 12 hours a day, I never got you to help me get better. It was always Roxanne who ended up helping me out.”

He was sputtering, but not defending himself at all.

“I have an awesome father, who has done a lot for me, maybe I needed a personal coach for basketball, but it didn’t happen.”

“George, let me say something before we end up on TV yelling and screaming at each other.”

“Sure thing, Pops!”

Crickets...

“George, I just left the only employer I ever worked for. It took a lot of personal effort to get the original job, and it sucked the life out of me.”

Mom led the chuckles.

Dad went on to say, “Think of everyone you work for as either Death Eaters or Dementors. That’s how it was when I was first hired at where I just left.”

“Did you hear what I just said? I don’t like even saying the name of the company I left, but I am so happy here in Nebraska, with my wife pregnant again, and my son a likely first round NBA pick in two more years.”

I couldn’t believe it! I saw my dad crying for the first time in much too long. I got up and walked over to him and said, “I love you, Dad! If you want me to be more aggressive as a basketball player, I will do my very best. It’s safer than football or hockey.”

He advanced and gave me a gentle hug, whispering, “You could end up in the NBA Hall of Fame, Georgie-Poo!”

Our hug broke up as we both started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Roxy asked.

“It’s our secret, T-Rox!” I said.

After we had our family meal, Dad got up, took me by the arm and we went to the BB Court. He picked up the ball, spun it on his index finger for a solid sixty seconds then gave me a firm chest pass that caught me off-guard.

After a solid 60-minute workout, that left us both sweating. I was in great shape but needed a shower. Roxy volunteered to wash my back.

Back in Manhattan, during the practice a day before the UCLA game, I asked our forwards to work on blocking me out from the baseline.

I rolled out, made a shot off the glass, rolled the other way, made a 10-footer, nothing but net, finishing with a finger roll shot like Kareen Abdul Jabbar used to make all the time.