5.
Jay and his boss, Garrett Avery, lunched periodically at The Camden Club, a hot spot for Baltimore’s executive elite. Located in a renovated brick railroad building next to the Orioles’ baseball park, the club combined wood-paneled elegance with sports nostalgia. Always packed whenever the Yankees or the Red Sox came to town, off-season crowds were more subdued. Patrons were greeted by a “great wall” of period photographs of great athletes, Baltimore’s born or bred, most prominently Babe Ruth and Cal Ripken, Jr.
A Baltimore native, and former University of Maryland basketball star, Garrett’s picture occupied a place on the great wall. A second team All-American as a senior, Garrett left the Terps as a second-round draft choice of the New Jersey Nets. However, a pre-season knee injury on the eve of the last season of his contract ended his pro career. Six-foot-eight, Black, his head a shiny bald dome, Garrett always stood out in the well-dressed lunchtime crowd. Jay often waited patiently while Garrett signed club monogrammed napkins for over-anxious businessmen and women who’d been his "biggest fans."
“There’s a complication,” Jay played with a fork as he sought the right words to explain his new predicament. “The city manager asked for a favor."
"What does he want?" A black-coated waiter appeared with their lunches, roast beef for Jay, cobb salad for Garrett. He nodded recognition-he’d probably served them several times before-and left quietly.
"He wants me to coach up his daughter. Thinks I'm some kind of basketball swami."
Garrett laughed, but not too loudly for other diners to hear. "Weren’t you known as Jumpin' Jay Flash?" A take on the Rolling Stones classic, Jumpin' Jack Flash, the honor was bestowed by friends from the summer leagues when he played during breaks from college.
“Since when is coaching part of my job description?” he asked.
“Never turn down kids in need.” Garrett took the mantra seriously. With the bank’s blessing, he used his local celebrity status to raise money to start an annual summer basketball camp in East Baltimore. Garrett repeatedly asked Jay to volunteer. This past summer, tired of hearing excuses, he really pushed him to help. Jay liked being a camp counselor more than he ever expected. Too young to think about AAU tournaments and travel ball, Jay’s charges, boys ages six and seven, listened as if they’d gotten true life sports lessons from a real coach.
Jay took another bite. “She's sensitive, thinks she’s a year away from playing at Kentucky.”
Garrett smiled. “Teach her, Flash. You really handled the ball in your day. Who knows, it might help us in town.”
Jay laughed. No need to admit that Bonita was a better player than he or his late sister ever hoped to be. “Me? Not like I lit it up in D-1.”
“Who cares? That guy knew a winner when he saw one.”