that it was stupid. I didn’t care, this is my fantasy. I want it to be romantic. I planned it for last night but that didn’t work, so I want it to work tonight. I sat at the table daydreaming. Would Randle approve of me dating PJ? Would he be mad, or would he be happy? I couldn’t decide which way I wanted. So I quit thinking about it.
A movement across the bar brought me back to attention. PJ walked in behind Ronnie. They stopped for a moment to talk and proceeded to my table.
Ronnie stopped at the table and in his best formal voice said. “Ms. Howard, I would like for you to meet Coach Phillip McCoy. Coach McCoy, I am pleased to introduce Ms. Charlotte Howard, the owner of Jimmy’s.”
And with that Ronnie left.
As Coach walked around the table, I slid out and stood to shake his hand.
As if he was following a script, he responded. “Hello, my name is Phillip McCoy.”
I was thrilled! When he introduced himself, my overly stimulated mind pulled up that distant memory of our very first meeting …
*****
… It was the Boys and Girls Club Annual Gala, years ago in Memphis. We had just eased into the huge ballroom at the Fairmont Hotel. It was our first time to attend the annual fundraising gala for the Boys and Girls Club. Most of the guests were part of the moneyed crowd in the area, and were in cliques talking among themselves, as if this was one of their weekly parties at the Club. We searched for a safe haven for nobodies, or at least for someone we knew. As we scanned the room, a tall friendly smile approached and extended his hand in greeting.
‘Hello, my name is Phillip McCoy,’ he had said.
Randle was startled and reacted nervously.
‘Oh … Hi! I’m Randle Brewster. And this is my wife Charlotte Brewster.’ Randle had extended his hand to shake, and I had a few moments to gather myself.
‘Did you say Phillip McCoy? I replied. “I mean the Memphis Grizzles Phillip McCoy? I mean, you sort of look like him … err … McCoy … err … Phillip McCoy?’ And in an embarrassment I will never live down, I blurted out. ‘Damn, you’re taller in person than on the Court … err … I mean … good to meet you Mr. McCoy.’
McCoy laughed. ‘Good to meet you, Mrs. Brewster, and yes to your question and your observation. Guilty on both accounts. I do play for the Grizzles and I have been told I was tall.’
In a serious tone, he whispered. ‘Do you guys feel as out of place as I do? I’m not used to this kind of attention.’
‘Neither are we,’ Randle answered. ‘But we love the work these guys do so we thought we would support them.’
The shared nervousness and similar interest had loosened the tension surrounding us. For the next ten minutes we talked basketball, the work of the Boys and Girls Club and about our interest in the Club’s work.
Randle interrupted us. ‘Charley, there’s Ralph Delmonico over there. I haven’t seen him in years. Do you mind if I excuse myself and go see him?’
‘Of, course not, honey, I’ll be okay.’
‘Great to meet you Phillip, see you later?’
‘Of course.’
Phillip and I settled back into conversation. ‘Did Randle call you Charley? I thought your name was Charlotte?’
‘Old nickname,’ I said. ‘Charlotte officially, but Charley in the real world.’
‘Oh …’
We continued talking. In a moment, he asked. ‘Charley, it’s getting stuffy in here. Why don’t we get some fresh air?’
With his hand firming on my waist, Phillip guided us through the crowd. I was twenty-five at the time, and the thought of the tall handsome athlete with his hand on my waist was thrilling. I had a wide smile as my youthful imagination kicked in. As we walked towards the balcony, I had to curb my enthusiasm. Was it my imagination, or was he really letting his hand slide lower on my hips? By the time we arrived on the balcony overlooking the hotel’s flower gardens, there was no mistake about it. His hand was on my butt! When we stopped at the
A movement across the bar brought me back to attention. PJ walked in behind Ronnie. They stopped for a moment to talk and proceeded to my table.
Ronnie stopped at the table and in his best formal voice said. “Ms. Howard, I would like for you to meet Coach Phillip McCoy. Coach McCoy, I am pleased to introduce Ms. Charlotte Howard, the owner of Jimmy’s.”
And with that Ronnie left.
As Coach walked around the table, I slid out and stood to shake his hand.
As if he was following a script, he responded. “Hello, my name is Phillip McCoy.”
I was thrilled! When he introduced himself, my overly stimulated mind pulled up that distant memory of our very first meeting …
*****
… It was the Boys and Girls Club Annual Gala, years ago in Memphis. We had just eased into the huge ballroom at the Fairmont Hotel. It was our first time to attend the annual fundraising gala for the Boys and Girls Club. Most of the guests were part of the moneyed crowd in the area, and were in cliques talking among themselves, as if this was one of their weekly parties at the Club. We searched for a safe haven for nobodies, or at least for someone we knew. As we scanned the room, a tall friendly smile approached and extended his hand in greeting.
‘Hello, my name is Phillip McCoy,’ he had said.
Randle was startled and reacted nervously.
‘Oh … Hi! I’m Randle Brewster. And this is my wife Charlotte Brewster.’ Randle had extended his hand to shake, and I had a few moments to gather myself.
‘Did you say Phillip McCoy? I replied. “I mean the Memphis Grizzles Phillip McCoy? I mean, you sort of look like him … err … McCoy … err … Phillip McCoy?’ And in an embarrassment I will never live down, I blurted out. ‘Damn, you’re taller in person than on the Court … err … I mean … good to meet you Mr. McCoy.’
McCoy laughed. ‘Good to meet you, Mrs. Brewster, and yes to your question and your observation. Guilty on both accounts. I do play for the Grizzles and I have been told I was tall.’
In a serious tone, he whispered. ‘Do you guys feel as out of place as I do? I’m not used to this kind of attention.’
‘Neither are we,’ Randle answered. ‘But we love the work these guys do so we thought we would support them.’
The shared nervousness and similar interest had loosened the tension surrounding us. For the next ten minutes we talked basketball, the work of the Boys and Girls Club and about our interest in the Club’s work.
Randle interrupted us. ‘Charley, there’s Ralph Delmonico over there. I haven’t seen him in years. Do you mind if I excuse myself and go see him?’
‘Of, course not, honey, I’ll be okay.’
‘Great to meet you Phillip, see you later?’
‘Of course.’
Phillip and I settled back into conversation. ‘Did Randle call you Charley? I thought your name was Charlotte?’
‘Old nickname,’ I said. ‘Charlotte officially, but Charley in the real world.’
‘Oh …’
We continued talking. In a moment, he asked. ‘Charley, it’s getting stuffy in here. Why don’t we get some fresh air?’
With his hand firming on my waist, Phillip guided us through the crowd. I was twenty-five at the time, and the thought of the tall handsome athlete with his hand on my waist was thrilling. I had a wide smile as my youthful imagination kicked in. As we walked towards the balcony, I had to curb my enthusiasm. Was it my imagination, or was he really letting his hand slide lower on my hips? By the time we arrived on the balcony overlooking the hotel’s flower gardens, there was no mistake about it. His hand was on my butt! When we stopped at the
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