A Brighter Tomorrow: My Journey with Julie

I can’t let Julie down now, and I can’t let this Stinger kid keep on believing that boys are better than girls. So I square my shoulders and say I’m in. Just when we’re about to start, a teenage boy and girl pass the basketball court with their tennis rackets. I recognize the girl from the photo and Julie’s room. It must be her sister, Tracy.

Stinger calls out to the boy, Mike. He asks if they want in on the basketball game. The teenagers turn to each other and say they might as well play. They set down their tennis rackets and say it’ll be like Billie Jean King’s match against Bobby Riggs. I asked who they are. Everybody looks at me. Tracy asks where I’ve been. I’ve never heard of the Battle of the Sexes tennis match? Apparently Bobby Riggs said he could beat any woman on the court and he challenged tennis pro Billie Jean King to a match. Julie adds that she beat him by a long shot and proved to everybody that women athletes could be taken seriously.

Tracy says we’ll play to thirty-five points. No double dribbling, no holding back other players, and if you step out of bounds, you need to step inbounds again before you touch the ball. I asked who’s going to call the fouls. T.J. says that you can only call a foul if other people see the foul happen. Now it’s time to play.

Stinger says that we need a sort of prize for when the boys beat the girls. Tracy rolls her eyes and says the game is just for fun. There is no trophy. Julie says that maybe, if the girls win, we should get to choose something for the boys to do for us. And if the boys win, then the girls have to do something for the boys. The boys and the girls each form their own respective huddle. Julie, smiling mischievously, says if we win, we should make the boys do something embarrassing. Tracy bobs her head in the direction of some high school girls practicing cheers with pom-poms. We giggle.

When we return to the court, the boys confidently say that if they win, then we have to pack up a picnic lunch and serve it to them. Stinger says he wants to see submarine sandwiches, not PB&J. Julie holds back a giggle and says that if the girls win, the boys have to go into the center of the park and do a girl power cheer. With pom-poms. The boys look shocked and Julie and I break into a goofy cheer, mimicking the girls. Stinger is starting to turn red just thinking about having to cheer in public. He gives us a condescending look and joins the boys in a huddle again, before coming back to say that it’s a deal. We all shake on it.

We flip a coin to see who will start the game first. Julie inbounds the ball to me and I drive downcourt to do an easy pass to Tracy who shoots for two points. The boys take it out and drive it back up the court. Mike snaps off a quick corner shot. The game continues back and forth at a steady pace. Much to the boys’ surprise, we’re evenly matched.

Stinger sticks to me like glue, and I have trouble getting around him. He calls me Ponytail. He snags a pass from Mike and manages to twist out of my reach. He jumps and I lean to try to block him, but he fakes and whips the ball at me super hard. It stings off my leg and bounces out of bounds. I call a foul and Stinger taunts me. Apparently, I can’t take it because I’m a girl. He was only trying to pass the ball to T.J. Tracy breaks in and says that I get the foul. T.J. was nowhere near me when he flung that ball in my direction.

I set up to throw two shots at my free-throw line. I’m pleased that I caught Stinger playing dirty, but when I hear Julie and Tracy cheering for me, I’m suddenly nervous. My nerves get the best of me and my first shot bounces off the rim. On the second shot, the ball hits the backboard, circles the rim and falls through the net. The score is now 18-16 in favor of the boys, which means the game is more than halfway over. A small crowd has started to gather on the benches around the court and are cheering for us. This is turned into a serious game, and now that we have an audience, the pressure is on.

We change strategy to man-to-man. I cover Stinger, determined to keep a close eye on him. I’m staying tight when I noticed his shoelace untied, dragging on the ground. I know I shouldn’t, but it’s just too tempting. I step on it and keep my shoe planted in that spot. When he pivots to grab a pass, he falls flat on the ground. I can’t help giggling when he struggles to get up.

He jumps up and spits out that it was a foul. T.J. points to his shoelace and says that that is what tripped him. He needs to tie his shoe and let it go. My face burns in Stinger’s glare at me. I look the other way, feeling a twinge of guilt but also relieved that nobody saw what I did.

The game picks up and we’re drenched in sweat. Both teams score more points, and Stinger becomes more and more frustrated with every basket the girls’ team scores. He seems more focused on keeping me away from the ball than on scoring points for his own team. Mike calls to him to wake up when a pass from Julie zings past his face, and I grab the ball and send it into the basket.

Before we know it, the score is 34-33. It’s game point, and the boys are ahead. Whoever scores next wins the game and the Battle of the Sexes. From across the court, Julie’s eyes meet mine and she gives a huge smile. I feel a rush of excitement.

The boys have the ball, and T.J. is driving down half-court. Julie glides past him, stealing the ball. She dribbles for the basket, but can’t get close. I’m wide open and she passes to me. Out of nowhere, Stinger charges at me. I’m just starting to jump to make my shot when I feel a tug from behind. The ball spills out of my hands and rolls out of bounds as I land with a thunk. When I look up, Stinger is right there, grinning wildly. Didn’t anybody see what he did? That sneaky Stinger came up from behind me and pulled my shirt to keep me from making the shot. I run my fingers on the back of my shirt and feel where the fabric has been stretched out. Even though nobody saw what Stinger did, he won’t be able to deny it once I show them the evidence. I can call foul, and if I make both free-throws, we’ll win the game.

But then I think about when Stinger called the foul on me. I deserved that foul, and if he had made even one of those free-throw shots, the boys would be celebrating a win right now. Plus, everybody thought Stinger was being a sore loser when he called the foul on me because nobody knew I stepped on his shoelace. I already called one foul on Stinger. Will I look like a sore loser for calling another?