Triple Threat (5 page)

“We all face challenges, we all have things that go wrong or go different than the way we'd hoped. You know you only have one life to live. Does anybody know what is the most precious thing you possess?”

People put up their hands or yelled out answers—cars, a house, money.

Johnnie Williams shook his head. “The most precious thing you have is time. You can lose a house or a car and you can get it back. You can lose all your money and you can get it back. But time … once it's
gone, it's gone. It will never come back. That means you can't waste your time. It's too important.

“Now, at this time, I want to introduce you to somebody special … somebody who set many goals and reached those goals. I often say he's my little brother. I can't really say that anymore because he's bigger than me … but he's still one of my younger brothers. Let's put our hands together and welcome my brother … Jerome, Junk Yard Dog!”

Everybody screamed and yelled as JYD bounded onto the stage. There was a huge smile splitting his face and he wore sweats and his trademark red headband. He shook hands with, and hugged, his brother and then QTMC. Johnnie Williams had looked tall until he stood there with JYD—he was big, really big.

“Hello, everybody. I am so pleased to be here today to speak to all of you. You make me feel so welcome the way you cheer and call out.”

Behind me a couple of kids started to bark.

“Did I hear barking?” JYD called out. “Did I?”

A whole bunch of kids, including Kia, started to bark like a pack of dogs.

“Can you bark for us, JYD?” somebody yelled from the crowd.

“You know it! BARK! BARK! BARK!” he called out in a deep, deep voice. The crowd started cheering again.

“I have a question. Can anybody out there tell me what JYD stands for?”

“Junk Yard Dog!” a hundred voices yelled back.

“You're right, it does stand for Junk Yard Dog on the court because I do a little bit of growling when I'm out there. I go chasing that ball like a big old dog trying to get his favorite toy. But JYD also stands for something else when I'm not on the court. I'm going to tell you and I want you to call it out back to me when I tell you. You ready?”

“We're ready!” Kia yelled.

“The J means “Just be yourself.' Everybody repeat, J means … ”

“Just be yourself!” people repeated.

“That's good. The Y stands for “You have to set some goals.' So Y means … ”

“You have to set some goals!” the crowd screamed.

“Excellent. And the D simply means “Do your best.' So D is for … ”

“Do your best!” the entire crowd shouted.

“That's it! Just be yourself. You have to set some goals, and always do your best.”

The crowd began cheering and the music, which was playing quietly in the background, got louder and louder and louder.

QTMC came forward, microphone in one hand, and he and JYD did a high five.

“This song is something special!” QTMC called out. “It's called the JYD song … and if you know the words, you can rap along with me. Here it goes!”

The music got louder and then background singers began singing exactly what JYD had told us—Just be yourself, You have to set some goals, Do your best, JYD.

“No one can take away your education … If your dream gets blocked, what can you fall back on?” QTMC rapped.

“Isn't that what your mother said to you today?” Kia asked.

I shot her a dirty look.

“Next time I'll tell her she should put it in a rap,” Kia kidded.

I leaned close to Kia. “How about you just shut up and listen to the man.”

QTMC kept on rapping, and when the song ended, the crowd cheered out its approval.

“You know, I'm going to be humming that song for the rest of the day,” Kia said.

“Like I said, just shut up.”

Johnnie and JYD came back up to the front of the stage as the cheering died down.

“I hope you're hearing QTMC's words with your ears and your heart,” Johnnie said. “Now we need ourselves a volunteer!”

Hundreds of people raised their hands and voices.

“How about that young lady right there,” JYD said, and to my shock he was pointing at Kia!

She practically jumped up into the air and then made her way through the crowd, up the steps and onto the stage. She shook hands with Johnnie and JYD. Kia looked tiny beside them.

“What's your name?” Johnnie asked.

“Kia.”

“What a pretty name. I'm going to have Kia and my brother demonstrate something very important.”

QTMC tossed Johnnie a basketball.

“When we were growing up, my father and my mother taught us a lot of things about life and about basketball. One day my father took us out to the court and handed me a basketball.”

Johnnie handed the ball to Kia.

“He taught us about something called the triple threat. Does anybody know what the triple threat is?”

“I know!” Kia squealed.

“You do? Tell us then,” Johnnie said.

“Triple threat means you can do three things with the basketball,” Kia said. “You can shoot the ball or you can dribble or you can pass.”

“Excellent!” Johnnie said, and JYD gave her a high five. Actually it was a high five for Kia and a sort of medium five for him.

“The first thing you can do is shoot. Go ahead, Kia, pretend you're going to shoot for a basket behind my brother.”

Kia held the ball up like she was going to shoot. Suddenly JYD put his arms up and moved right in front of her. He was practically blocking the sky! He reached forward and put one hand on the ball so there was no way Kia was going to be able to shoot.

“Can't shoot, so what do you do now?” Johnnie asked.

“Dribble.” Kia began dribbling the ball, moving away from JYD. She did a little crossover move, feeding the ball through her legs, and the crowd roared its approval.

“This girl's got game!” JYD called out, and the crowd cheered even louder.

Part of me wished it was me up there dribbling the ball. Part was happy for Kia and just plain glad it wasn't me up there in front of everybody.

“And now what are you going to do?” Johnnie asked as he, JYD and even QTMC closed in on Kia from all sides.

“I'm going to pass!” she yelled.

The ball came rocketing out into the audience, directly at me! I put my hands up just in time to catch the ball before it smashed me in the nose.

Kia raced across the stage, away from the triple coverage. Instinctively I threw the ball back to her.

“Let's have a big hand for our volunteer, Kia!” Johnnie called out as the audience applauded.

JYD motioned for Kia to toss him the ball. He caught it, pulled out a marker and started writing—he was autographing it … that had to mean … He tossed the ball back to Kia. She'd gotten an autographed ball! Now I really wished I had been up there!

Kia came back through the audience, accepting congratulations as she passed.

“What did he write?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I haven't looked.”

I turned the ball over. It read: “Kia, you're a triple threat … JYD, #13.”

“You're so lucky,” I said.

“You want it?”

“Me? You want to give me your personally signed ball?”

“Sure. It'll make up for the one that got destroyed.”

“I can't take your ball,” I said as I tried to press it back into her hands.

“Why not?”

“For one thing, it's yours. Second, it's even got your name on it. You keep it … you deserve it for having the guts to go up there on the stage.”

“I guess you're right. Afterwards we'll get him to sign something for you too.”

“A triple threat isn't only for basketball,” Johnnie Williams said. “Having options is what you need to get through life. Growing up, I thought I was going to be a professional basketball player. One day as I was playing for the school team, a terrible thing happened. I was going up for a dunk, and as I soared up, the man I was trying to beat ducked down. I went up and over, head over heels, landing on my arm. I shattered my elbow. And that ended my career as a ball player.”

“You always need options,” JYD said. “My brother kept his head up. He looked at his options, then adjusted his triple threat. And the option he pursued was what our parents always said. Get an education. And an education isn't something that just happens in school. It can happen every day … every time you pick up a book, you gain knowledge. You learn new things that will help you succeed.

“You have to read to succeed,” JYD continued. “Nobody can ever take that away from you, not ever. Every time you read, you gain something that nobody can ever take away from you. Knowledge helps you rise to the top.”

“JYD is right.” Johnnie added. “And there were lots of people who supported him, who helped him rise to the top to become the person and the player he is today.”

“I want to tell all my fans in the dog pound to keep your heads up and rise to the top. Because all your support has helped me rise, and now my goal is to help you all rise!” JYD said.

“And that sounds like a cue for everyone to point toward your dreams!” Johnnie yelled out.

QTMC came back onto the stage as the music soared. A pounding beat. Everywhere in the audience,
people raised their hands, as JYD and Johnnie were doing on the stage.

“Come on, rise to the top!” QTMC rapped. “Keep rising, growing from boys to men, from girls to women!”

Kia started dancing on the spot, deliberately bumping her hip against me again and again, almost forcing me to move along with her and the music.

As the music faded, the crowd applauded once more. QTMC took a bow, and JYD and Johnnie came forward.

“We want all of you to join us now … join us in our mission,” Johnnie said. “A mission to encourage youth to shoot for their dreams, to dribble around obstacles and to pass on your support to others.”

“And that mission is possible,” JYD said.

“You want to be a carpenter or a lawyer, a teacher, a police officer, or run your own business you can do it.”

“The mission is possible,” JYD repeated.

“Starting today. Focus on your goals. Think of ways to obtain the things you need. Give back to the community. Chill along the journey to enjoy the moments,” Johnnie said.

“Because the mission is possible.”

In the background the music started up again. A beautiful, high-pitched woman's voice started singing over and over again, “The mission is possible!”

“Thank you all for coming today!” Johnnie yelled out to the crowd.

The music surged louder and Johnnie and JYD moved along the whole front of the stage, reaching down, giving hand slaps and handshakes, waving and smiling. They then turned, bowed and left the stage to a final roar of applause.

“This is one long lineup,” Kia said.

We'd been in line for over thirty minutes. We'd already had our program, and Kia's ball, signed by both Johnnie and QTMC.

“I can't believe how long it's taking,” I said.

“We can just go,” Kia said. “I've already got JYD's autograph.”

“I want to get it too.”

“It's a strange concept, all of these people standing here so that they can get some guy to sign his name on a piece of paper.”

“First off, I don't want him to sign a piece of paper,” I said, holding up the basketball that my father had just bought for me. “And second, he isn't ‘some guy'—he's Jerome Williams, the Junk Yard Dog.”

“I know who he is. He's an NBA basketball player.”

“My favorite player.”

“I know he's your favorite. I've just never really understood why he's your favorite,” Kia said.

“He's a great player.”

“There are lots of great players in the NBA. Why is he your favorite?”

“I just like the way he plays. He plays with heart.”