Bravado

Earl was a dominating presence. Well over six feet tall with broad shoulders, taut muscles and aggressive tenacity he controlled the lanes of the basketball court. He and I were both in our early twenties with lots of stamina. Our team was sponsored by D & W Billiards Parlor from the wrong side of the tracks in Tracy, California. We took on all comers from the local city league or neighboring small towns and even from Stockton, the county seat.

I don’t quite remember how I got to be asked to play with that particular team. After all, I was the supposedly pious principal of the small Lutheran elementary school and my teammates were not likely to often find themselves in my or any other church.

Earl stood out and sounded out. His oaths were articulate. Highly descriptive threats intimidated many. His after-game relaxation fit right in. Beer was guzzled. Tales of female conquests were recalled. When we drove to some urban sites for games in certain parts of town Earl enjoyed calling the street walking prostitutes by name and telling of their particular skills.

After playing for the Tracy D & W Billiards team for three years I ended my career with them by missing an easy lay-up that would have won the game. A few months later (unconnected with my missed lay-up) I accepted a call to serve in another church and school 500 miles away. A few years after that I was even further away, in Hong Kong, serving as a missionary.

I was stunned the day a letter arrived from Tracy, California, from Earl. In it he recalled our time together. He informed me that his business was doing well. He told me he was a changed man. Christ had entered his life. He had cleaned up his act. He was happily married, the father of two and determined to raise them up properly. He wrote that he thought I might like to know that. So he went to no small pains to get my mailing address. He just wanted to wish me blessings and express the hope that Hong Kong still provided an opportunity for me to shoot a few baskets.