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The image of Black resurrection through b-ball is at once celebratory, chilling and poignant.

But Thomas had moved on without me, and was getting b-ball lessons from his new friend, Pete.

“Yow are. Even though this building is a wreck, you never gave up on us. You wanted me to learn even when I didn’t. You pushed me to be better at b-ball. It’s like a quote I read on a coffee mug once.”

We played B-ball, caught frogs and fished by the creek, climbed trees and stuff.

God forbid I wear mesh b-ball shorts and a loose T-shirt in the suburbs of Dallas.