considered himself somewhat of a basketball fanatic. He knew lots of trivia. Perhaps that is what led him to his current bizarre situation. Charles was thinking that finding a door on one of the sides of the building would make for an easier entry than this window. So, he slid down the drainpipe and walked around the north side looking for a door. He found what he thought was the main entrance. A rusty padlock was hanging from two chain links, but it didn’t look too secure.
Charles went back to the car to get a flashlight and something to pry open the lock. He got the tire iron from the trunk and a flashlight he kept in an emergency toolkit. He told Ralph that he would be in the gym looking around and it may be a few minutes before he got back. Ralph told him to wear his headset in case there was any trouble. Ralph could communicate with Charles via the headset they had designed. Charles returned to the front door and pried on the lock. After a big jerk with the tire iron, the lock broke. Charles was able to open the door wide enough to slide in sideways. Ralph asked Charles what all the noise was about and Charles told him he had just opened the door.
“Be careful, boss,” was Ralph’s terse reply, but Charles knew that Ralph was equally excited. This was not part of their usual post-meal routine.
Once inside, Charles could barely see because it was so dark. Only a faint light filtered in from the dirty windows that were located at the top of the gym. He turned on the flashlight, walked inside, and then he could see the gym floor. As he went through the open entry door into the main gym, the wood creaked beneath his feet. He kept walking and figured he must be somewhere near the middle of the gym. Moving the flashlight to his left and right, Charles saw the bleachers. He could almost hear the echo of the fans cheering from all those years ago.
There were ghosts in here (not that Charles believed in ghosts, being the practical attorney that he was). He knew it was just the flashlight beam casting strange shadows. After what seemed like 20 feet or so, he entered a locker room. Metal lockers lined one wall; a long bench the players used to sit on when getting dressed took up the middle.
The room had the familiar scent of a locker room even all these years later. In the hush of the room, he imagined the players who could have been here – what victories and defeats the men must have experienced. Rubbing against a locker, it felt cool to his touch. He could imagine a coach charging up his team, giving instructions, and drawing plays on the old chalkboard. It still had the faint image of XX and OO and a curved line showing the movement for one of the players.
It must have been exciting to be in the locker room as a skilled athlete, sitting on that bench and listening to the coach’s instructions. Charles wondered what color the uniforms would have been. Some were maybe a shade of blue with white numbers. Once again, he thought of himself as a boy, shooting all those free throws. He wished he had been talented enough to make the team so he could have worn a uniform.
Soon Charles was jolted back to reality and he walked toward a shower stall. He moved his flashlight around and saw some names written on some of the shower walls – Clarence “Fats” Jenkins, Wee Willie Smith, Eyre “Bruiser” Saitch. Charles “Tarzan” Cooper was scrawled in one corner. Bill Yancey was by itself written toward the bottom. John Holt and James “Pappy” Ricks were under Cooper’s name on the right side of the shower wall. Now Charles was curious about the other locker room.
He quickly walked out into the hallway and back down the entry that took him back to the gym floor. Crossing the creaky floor, he opened a door that led to a storage room. Rusty buckets and dirty mops were in a pile by a corner. Half-empty bottles of cleaning solutions lined a shelf. Charles closed the door and went down the hallway a little further that led to another locker room. It was a carbon copy of the first one. Charles opened a locker and found a faded jersey, but he could make out the number “19” on it and the word “Celtics.” He could hardly believe he had found a jersey that had been left behind. He took the jersey from the metal hook and grasped it in his left hand. Charles walked into the shower stall and could make out a few names on the wall. It was dark, but he could read some names when he moved the flashlight real close. Joe Lapchick and Davey Banks – the names seemed to glow in the eerie light cast by the dimming flashlight. Charles remembered that Lapchick was a great center and later coach for the Original Celtics. Could he have played in this gym? To the right of those names was Dutch Dehnert. Charles’ interest in basketball trivia clicked, and he knew Dehnert first used the pivot play. Underneath Dehnert’s name was written Nat Holman (a great ball handler), Pete Barry, and Chris Leonard.
As Charles’ fading flashlight beam was scanning another shower wall, Ralph called. Ralph’s jerky, high-pitched voice said, “Officers Lauritsen and Murphy have just arrived. They’re looking at your Porsche.”
Charles knew he didn’t have much time. “I’m coming,” he said, his voice echoing in the almost empty room. He could hear Ralph talking to the officers. Good old Ralph would help buy him time.
“Stall them,” he said to Ralph through his headphone, “for as long as you can. I have to find the front door and get out of here.”
The officers asked Ralph what Charles was doing here. Ralph replied that Charles was interested in seeing what the old gym looked like. Murphy asked where Charles was and Ralph directed the officers to the south side of the building. As they left to go look for Charles, Ralph told Charles to get out of the gym quickly.
Charles now was standing in the middle of the gym floor. When he saw a faint light coming from the windows by the door, he started running across the gym, trying to beat the officers to the front door. He realized he still had the tire iron and he ran toward the bleachers. He placed the flashlight and the tire iron underneath the first row of bleachers and headed toward the main door. Suddenly, he remembered the jersey. He didn’t want to leave it in the gym because it was much too valuable. He stuffed the jersey under his shirt by his back and then retucked his shirt tightly into his slacks.
The officers were still outside the gym and hadn’t turned the corner toward the main entrance. Meanwhile, Charles had made it to the doors, slowly pushed open one side, and glanced outside. Not seeing Murphy and Lauritsen, he squeezed through the opening, pushed the doors together, and put the lock back through two links on the chain. The lock wouldn’t close tightly, so he aligned it to look like no one had tampered with it. It wasn’t the greatest job in the world but maybe it would pass. Charles kept close to the building as he tried to flatten the old jersey that was under his shirt.
Just then Officers Lauritsen and Murphy came around the corner. Charles waved at them, but they just looked irritated.
“What are you doing here?” asked Lauritsen. Charles was thinking of the jersey balled in the back of his shirt, how much it may be worth, and how crazy it had been for him to be walking around a basketball court in the dark.
Charles took the headset off and put it around his neck.
“Uhhh, nothing,” he stammered. “I . . . I just wanted to see what the gym looked like.” He tried to make his voice sound calm and relaxed, but it didn’t help that he was sweating.
“Do you know that you could be arrested for trespassing?” asked Murphy.
“I didn’t see any trespassing signs posted,” Charles said. Being an attorney, Charles knew the law and figured he would have a good case because he was on public property. Murphy started walking toward the door and glanced at the chain and lock. He said it looked like someone had been tampering with it. Charles just knew the officers could hear his heart pounding loudly. They looked at him and Charles thought it was an eternity before Murphy finally said, “You better get out of here. This neighborhood can be pretty rough.”
Charles started walking sideways towards the car, hoping the officers wouldn’t detect the jersey bulging from his back. Luckily, they were examining the front door again. Charles got in the car, put his headset back on, and told Ralph, “Man, that was close.” He then thanked Ralph for giving him the warning to get out of the gym.
“What did you find in there anyway?” asked Ralph, who was always curious.
Charles shrugged and pulled out the balled-up jersey.
“Nice,